The warehouse reeked of rust, old wood, and something far more metallic—something that made Mia's stomach twist before she even stepped through the door.
Blood.
Not fresh. Not old. Hungry.
She pressed her back against the wall, listening to the static in her earpiece crackle. "I'm inside," she whispered. "No movement yet."
"Stay sharp," came Arabelle's voice. "This one's not like the others."
"This one" had a name: Lucien Vale.
A rival vampire. A predator known for feeding on his own kind. Whispers in Nocturne said he'd been picking off Dusk's allies one by one, leaving messages carved into bone. Arabelle had assigned Mia to observe—not to engage.
But Mia had already learned one thing about vampires.
They didn't wait for you to act.
They came for you.
She stepped deeper into the shadows of the warehouse, past shattered crates and broken chandeliers. The place had once been a ballroom, now hollowed out by time and something colder. Something alive.
Something watching her.
"Little lamb," a voice purred behind her. "All alone in the den of wolves?"
Mia spun, gun drawn—but it was too late.
He moved like smoke, like silk, like death in a velvet coat. His fingers were wrapped around her throat before she could scream. Not choking her—just holding her there. Measuring.
He was beautiful.
Terrible.
His eyes were the same molten silver as Dusk's.
"Ah," he breathed, tilting his head. "So this is the pet my brother's been grooming."
Mia froze. "…Brother?"
Lucien grinned, slow and dangerous. "He didn't tell you? Tsk, tsk. Family secrets, so messy."
Her pulse thundered in her ears. "You're lying."
"I never lie, little lamb. But I do enjoy watching the truth break people."
He let her go, and she stumbled back, gasping, gun still useless in her hand.
"Alexander and I," Lucien said, brushing dust from his coat, "were made the same night. Same ritual. Same hunger. But where he buried his monster under mansions and rules… I fed mine."
"You're not the same," she said.
"No," Lucien agreed. "He loves this city. I want to burn it. And when I do—he'll have to choose between protecting you… or stopping me."
He stepped closer, brushing a knuckle down her cheek.
"I do hope he chooses wrong."
Suddenly, the glass behind them shattered—Alexander Dusk landed in a storm of broken shards and wind, fangs bared.
"Lucien," he said coldly.
"Brother," Lucien purred. "You're late."
"I told you," Dusk growled, "stay away from her."
"And I told you," Lucien replied, "I don't follow dead men's orders."
Mia didn't breathe.
For a second, neither did the city.
Then, Lucien vanished in a blink of black smoke.
Dusk reached her side instantly, gripping her arms, scanning her for wounds. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," she lied. "You didn't tell me you had a brother."
His face darkened. "Lucien is not my brother. Not anymore."
"Then what is he?"
Dusk's eyes burned into hers.
"My mistake."