Page 5

"The Crowe family."

My stomach clenches, turning into a cold knot that sinks through my core. The name jolts through my entire system and drags memories to the surface that I've spent years burying. I recall screams echoing in the darkness and the heavy odor of burning flesh. The image of lifeless eyes staring at nothing while spell-fire consumed everything I had sworn to protect remains seared into my mind.

"No."

"Darius, just listen⁠—"

"I said no, Kellan. Find them someone else." My voice drops to a low warning that sends smart people backing toward the nearest exit.

"I wish it were that easy. They specifically requested Morvane Protective Solutions. Something about a supernatural incident involving ritual murders and⁠—"

"The chaos they’ve created is entirely their own affair. Witches made their choice a long time ago. They can endure the consequences."

Kellan's sigh crackles through the phone's speaker. "This isn't about the pack, is it? Because last I checked, we never actually proved⁠—"

I kick a piece of broken wood across the warehouse floor, watching it shatter against the far wall. "Our experience is proof enough. We offered them our trust, and we carry the permanent lessons of that choice."

"That was seven years ago, Morvane. Different people, different circumstances."

"Same magic. Same lies wrapped in pretty promises." The vampire at my feet stirs, the restraints clinking against concrete. I press my boot against his throat until he stops moving, channeling frustration into controlled violence.

"The Crowes are offering triple our usual rate. Emergency contract, full discretion, and they're willing to pay hazard compensation for the entire team."

"Money doesn't resurrect the dead."

"No, but it keeps us operational. And it might give you a chance to⁠—"

"To what? Forgive and forget?" I laugh, but there's no humor in the sound. "Some wounds can never heal, Ro. Some betrayals leave scars that never close."

The warehouse falls silent except for the distant buzz of traffic and the shallow breathing of unconscious vampires. Chicago sprawls beyond these walls, its residents sleeping soundly because monsters like these stay locked away. But witches—witches smile and shake hands while sliding knives between your ribs.

"Just think about it. I'll be there in twenty for pickup."

The line goes dead, and I’m alone with three unconscious bloodsuckers and memories that refuse to stay buried.

However, the silence is short-lived when my phone buzzes again before I can pocket it. The screen shows an unknown number, but the Chicago area code on the caller ID sends a cold spike straight to my stomach. I almost let it go to voicemail, but something about the timing feels too purposive to ignore.

"Morvane."

"Mr. Morvane." The voice has decades of authority wrapped in silk and steel. Her tone is cultured and refined, harboring simply enough warmth to suggest she's accustomed to getting what she wants. "This is Estella Crowe."

I nearly hang up. My finger hovers over the disconnect button while every instinct screams to end this conversation before it begins. "Your associate mentioned you declined our request."

"That's right."

"I understand your...reservations about working with witches." Her tone remains perfectly controlled, but I catch the slight pause that suggests she knows more about my history than I'm comfortable with. "However, the situation has escalated beyond personal grievances."

"Lady, I don't care if your entire bloodline is⁠—"

"A lunar cult has marked my niece for death. They are organized and practice blood magic forbidden by every governing body in the paranormal world."

The description sends a paralyzing spike straight through my veins. I've heard whispers about extremist covens operating beneath the city—practitioners so far gone into forbidden blood magic that even the most corrupt covens exile them on sight.

"You're lying."

"I wish I were." Papers rustle in the background, followed by the soft clink of what sounds like ritual implements. "They've already attempted three kidnappings in the past week. Serenity barely escaped the last one, and only because she's more resourceful than they anticipated."

I lean against a support beam to process this information. This cult bypasses simple revenge in favor of raw power that marks specific bloodlines to drain their magical essence until nothing remains but empty husks.