The blood-red moon still hung over Draven Estate when the first body was discovered.
Selene stood on the eastern balcony, the taste of victory still sharp on her tongue, when Darius Vale’s urgent voice cut through the night like a blade.
My king!!!
come now.
Viktor’s arm tightened around her waist.
One moment earlier he had been murmuring promises against her throat.
Now his entire body went rigid.
They followed Darius down the stone corridor at a near run.
The mate bond between Selene and Viktor pulsed with sudden, cold dread.
In the lower courtyard, beneath the shadow of a scorched rose trellis, lay the body of one of Viktor’s most trusted human guards.
His throat had been opened with surgical precision.
No struggle.
No warning.
A single black rose had been placed on his chest, its petals still wet with blood.
Pinned beneath the rose was a note written in elegant, unfamiliar handwriting:
The king’s victory is incomplete.
The queen’s blood will finish what the Volkovs began.
She dies before the next full moon.
Selene’s breath left her in a sharp exhale.
Viktor’s fangs lengthened instantly.
The air around him dropped several degrees.
Darius spoke in a low, controlled voice.
The wards were not breached from the outside.
Whoever did this was already inside the estate.
A traitor still walked among them.
The celebration that should have followed their hard-won victory never came.
Instead, the estate locked down.
Every servant, every soldier, every council member was questioned under Viktor’s cold gaze.
Lady Irina stood with her arms crossed, crimson hair gleaming under torchlight, her expression unreadable.
Lord Cassian was already dead, Selene herself had driven the blade into his heart only nights earlier.
Yet the threat had not died with him.
Someone else remained.
Viktor refused to let Selene leave his sight.
He moved her into the highest tower chamber, the one with the thickest walls and the oldest blood wards.
Even there, the tension was a living thing.
Every shadow seemed to breathe.
Every footstep in the corridor below made her pulse jump.
He stood at the window, shirt discarded, the muscles of his back rigid with barely contained rage.
I will find them, he said without turning.
And when I do, I will take my time.
Selene crossed the room and pressed herself against his back, her cheek resting between his shoulder blades.
We will find them.
He turned then, eyes glowing pure crimson.
In one motion he lifted her, carried her to the massive bed, and laid her down with a control that trembled on the edge of violence.
There was nothing gentle in the way he undressed her.
Buttons tore.
Fabric ripped.
His mouth claimed hers with a hunger sharpened by fear, fear of losing her.
He entered her hard and deep, pinning her wrists above her head.
Each thrust was a declaration.
Mine.
Still mine.
Selene met him with equal intensity, legs locked around his waist, nails scoring his back.
The bond between them flared so brightly it almost hurt.
When she came, it was with a broken cry that sounded too close to a sob.
Viktor followed moments later, burying his face in her neck as he pulsed inside her, fangs grazing but not quite breaking skin.
Afterward they lay tangled and silent, listening to the distant sounds of the estate still on high alert.
A soft knock came just before dawn.
Darius entered without waiting for permission, face grim.
We found something in the east wing servant quarters.
A hidden communication crystal.
Still active.
The last transmission was sent less than an hour ago.
Viktor sat up slowly.
“Show me.”
The crystal was small, black, and cold to the touch.
When activated, a distorted voice whispered a single sentence before the connection died:
The queen is weaker when she bleeds.
Wait for the moment she is alone.
Selene felt ice slide down her spine.
Viktor crushed the crystal in his fist until it powdered.
No one enters this tower without my direct order.
No one.
Darius, double the guard rotations.
I want every name who had access to the east wing in the last three days.
Now.
When they were alone again, Viktor pulled Selene into his lap, wrapping the sheets around them both.
His voice was low and lethal.
They will not touch you.
I will burn the entire clan to the ground before I allow it.
But even as he spoke the vow, a new unease settled over Selene.
The note had been precise.
The crystal had known she would eventually be left alone.
Someone close, someone who understood the rhythms of the estate and the patterns of their private hours, was feeding information to the remaining Volkov loyalists.
That evening, under the cover of a staged council meeting, Viktor deliberately left the tower for thirty minutes, giving the traitor the opening they had been waiting for.
Selene remained behind, pacing the chamber, every sense stretched thin by the bond.
The fire crackled.
The wards hummed.
Then the smallest sound, a soft scrape against stone outside the high window.
She turned just as a figure in dark clothing slipped over the sill.
The assassin moved with trained speed, silver dagger already drawn.
Selene barely had time to seize the blade Viktor had left on the bedside table.
Steel rang against steel.
The force of the first blow drove her back against the bedpost.
The attacker’s face was hidden by a black mask, but the eyes that locked onto hers were familiar.
Too familiar.
Lady Irina’s voice, cold and almost regretful, came from behind the mask.
You should have remained a pretty distraction, little mortal.
The old bloodlines will never accept a human queen.
Better you die cleanly than drag the Draven name into ruin.
Selene’s shock cost her a second.
She cried out, the pain sharp enough to white out her vision for a heartbeat.
Irina pressed the advantage, driving her toward the window.
The mate bond roared.
Somewhere below, Viktor felt her pain like a brand.
His answering rage flooded the connection so violently that Selene staggered.
She used the surge.
When Irina lunged again, Selene dropped low, swept the other woman’s legs, and drove her own blade upward into the soft space beneath the ribs.
Irina hissed, the mask slipping.
Blood, dark and ancient, spilled down her side.
She staggered back toward the open window, eyes wide with disbelief.
You were never meant to survive the first night, she whispered.
The Volkovs paid well.
And Cassian was only the beginning.
Before Selene could strike again, Irina threw herself backward into the night.
A grappling line caught her fall.
By the time Selene reached the window, the traitor was already vanishing into the shadowed gardens below.
Viktor burst through the chamber doors seconds later, eyes pure blood-red, claws extended.
He took one look at the blood on Selene’s arm and the open window, and a sound left his throat that was barely human.
Irina, Selene gasped, clutching the wound.
It was Irina.
She’s working with what’s left of the Volkovs.
She said Cassian was only the beginning.
Viktor crossed the room in two strides, gathering her against him with careful, shaking hands.
His tongue sealed the silver burn on her arm even as his mind reached outward through the estate’s blood wards, hunting.
Darius appeared in the doorway, face pale.
My king, Lady Irina’s private quarters.
We found more crystals.
And letters.
She has been feeding information to the Volkov remnants for months.
There is a secondary force gathering in the mountains.
Larger than the last.
They plan to strike the moment the queen is turned… or the moment she is isolated again.
Viktor’s arms tightened around Selene until she could feel the thunder of his heart.
They will not get another chance, he said, voice flat with lethal promise.
We end this.
Completely.
He looked down at Selene, the crimson in his eyes slowly banked but not gone.
You are bleeding.
You are marked.
And now the entire court knows there is still a knife at our throats.
Outside, the first distant howls rose from the mountain ridges, too coordinated to be ordinary wolves.
Selene met Viktor’s gaze, her own resolve hardening even as blood still welled slowly from the sealed wound on her arm.
Then we don’t wait for the next full moon, she said.
We hunt them first.
Viktor’s smile was a dark, beautiful thing, full of teeth and ancient fury.
“As my queen commands.”
But even as he spoke, a second black rose was delivered to the base of the tower stairs, this one without a note.
Only a single drop of fresh blood on its petals.
Someone else was still inside the walls.
And they were no longer content to wait.