43. Damien

Right after Ilower my wind shield, Viktor lunges forward, dagger aimed for my heart.

But I’m prepared. Because when I lowered my shield, I held on to the exact amount of magic I need for my next move. It’s an advanced move—one I’ll need precise control to execute—but it’s one I’ve spent centuries honing.

Viktor’s midair when I release my magic in his direction.

Not to attack, but to bind.

The air wraps around his wrists and ankles like chains, forcing him off balance, knocking his weapon out of his hand and bringing him to his knees before me.

He tries to fight it, but it’s futile.

“Damien,” he growls like a feral animal, giving another unsuccessful tug at the invisible cuffs holding him in place. “Release me.”

“Hand over the compass,” I say, my voice steady despite the chaos in my heart. “Do it, and I’ll let you live.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Let me live?” he says. “You still don’t understand, Damien. Handing over the compass means death for us all. Even without the potion added to it, the compass can lead us to the shadow souls. Sure, we can’t call the shadow souls to us like we would have been able to if it was merged with the potion, but we can find them. To win this war against them, the compass needs to be in the right hands. In our hands.”

Our hands.

“Our” was always me and Viktor. Together.

Not anymore. It’s now him and Lucas.

And he’s not simply going to hand over the compass. Which means it’s time to get him to answer the question that has the potential to seal his fate.

So, as I look down into his sharp green eyes, it’s with the knowledge that this might be the last time I’ll ever see them.

My chest is hollow. My blood is ice. My ears are ringing with a pressure that fills my head, making it feel like my brain’s about to explode.

I’m an outsider looking in, and as I speak, it feels like it’s coming from someone else and not from me.

“Tell me,” I finally say, using my magic to keep Viktor’s restraints in place. “On the night of Lucas’s attack, did you kill any of those humans on my territory?”

At the mention of humans, I glance over to the bed to check on Eliza. She’s breathing, but still unconscious.

Viktor must have drained more of her blood that I realized.

Now, the silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. I can almost hear his thoughts whirling, deciding how much to reveal, weighing the consequences of his next words.

“Yes,” he finally admits, the word striking me like a physical blow.

Part of me had hoped, foolishly, for a different answer. An indication that the Viktor I knew was still there beneath the layers of darkness Lucas and his clan had draped over him.

Now that he’s said it, there’s no taking it back.

And now, he must pay the price.

Before I can speak another word, the connecting door between this one and the one next to it bursts open.

Maria stands there, her expression fierce, eyes blazing with a mix of anger and determination.

As per the plan, she was waiting on the other side of the door the entire time, listening to our conversation, ready to strike when she received confirmation that Viktor had broken supernatural law.

Now that he’s admitted to the crime of killing a human, she leaps into action, her form blurring as she shifts into a wolf and launches herself at him with lethal precision.

He struggles against the magical restraints, but it’s no use. Her attack catches him off guard, her claws raking deep across his chest.

His scream gets caught in his throat.

Blood—dark and thick—flows from the wounds. The beige carpet is already stained with it.

They’re the type of wounds that would be fatal to a human.

For a vampire, they’re enough to send him into shock.

He flails against my restraints, but I hold them strong, watching as the wounds start to mend themselves. Time slows, and it’s all I can do to hold on. To not let the sight of him like this knock me down as well.

Maria’s next blow is a vicious one, aimed at his throat.

With a desperate gasp, he looks at me, and in his eyes, I see a flicker of the man he used to be. The friend—the brother—I once knew.

I’m frozen. Shellshocked. This is a nightmare.

One from which I know I’ll never be able to wake up.

He tries to speak my name, but it’s so gargled that I can barely make it out. The blood continues to flow out of his wounds. The ones on his chest are healing slower now, since his body is fighting against the slash on his neck, too.

I’ve lessened my hold on the restraints slightly. Not enough to release him, but enough to allow him to sink to the bloodstained carpet.

All it will take is one targeted blow to his heart to end this. To put him out of his misery. To stop him from embracing the darkness and becoming another one of Lucas’s brainwashed minions.

To stop him from having another chance to kill the woman I’m falling in love with. The woman who, if all goes well, will soon be my queen.

Maria growls and opens her mouth, sharp teeth gleaming, ready to strike.

“Wait!” I call out, and miraculously, she pulls back.

She tilts her head, unable to communicate in wolf form, but her eyes say everything.

There’s no stopping this now.

“I’m going to do it,” I tell her.

I can’t give Viktor much anymore, but I can give him the dignity of death by my hand instead of the hand of a Guardian.

Maria takes a few respectful steps back, but she stays in wolf form, ready to strike if it becomes necessary. As she does, she holds my gaze, the challenge in her eyes clear.

Do this now, or I’ll do it for you.

The room is silent except for the sound of Viktor’s labored breathing and the distant echo of our past. Of memories filled with laughter, battles, and the brotherhood that once defined us.

“I’m sorry, Viktor.” I kneel next to him and draw my dagger—forged from the same steel as his—steady my hand, and brace myself.

This is the weight of leadership, I remind myself. It’s the harsh reality of our world where mercy and justice can blur into indistinguishable shades of grey.

I am a predator. A warrior. A king.

The most I can do for Viktor now is to make his death as quick and painless as possible.

And then, with a swift, precise movement, I drive my dagger through his chest.

I keep my eyes locked on his the entire time.

When my blade reaches his heart, I realize there’s no longer any anger in mine. Only a profound sadness for the path he chose, and the one I must now walk alone.

And I think, in those final seconds, he gives me a look of forgiveness.

His body jerks once, a final gasp escaping his lips. Then, he’s still, the life fading from his eyes until there’s nothing left but a haunting emptiness.

Slowly, I slide the dagger out of his chest.

The moment it’s out, his body disintegrates into ash.

My blood runs cold. My chest hollows. I don’t feel like I’m actually here—that this is truly happening. It’s like I’m stuck in a nightmare and will never be able to wake up.

Before, I told myself I was doing something good. For my kingdom, for the city, and for the world.

Now, I fear that if I die, I’ll be sent to the deepest, darkest part of Hell for this.

Maria shifts back into her human form, her expression somber. “The Guardians will know of your actions, Damien,” she says. “They’ll be pleased to learn about your commitment to upholding supernatural law, no matter the personal cost.”

“See that they do.” I give her a curt nod, then return my focus to Viktor’s charred remains.

My heart aches as I gaze down at what used to be my closest friend.

Then, I notice silver gleaming in the ash.

I reach for it, clean off its surface, and uncover the Astral Compass. As assumed, Viktor had it on him this entire time. Its intricate carvings shimmer in the dim light of the room, a reminder of the power it holds, and the hope it represents.

Maria watches me silently, her presence a comforting yet solemn reminder of the alliance between our kinds. “What will you do now?” she asks.

For a second, words don’t come. I can’t focus. Can’t think.

Can’t see anything other than Viktor’s ashes on the bloodstained floor.

But Maria’s waiting for my answer. I have to snap out of it. To think of the future. Of what’s coming next.

And so, I look back up at her, pushing whatever humanity was left in me down and letting the deadly predator reign.

“Morgan’s searching for a way to get the potion out of Amber and into the compass,” I tell her, each word sharp and precise. “She has a lead, and she’ll be back soon. After the potion is combined with the compass, it will be able to locate shadow souls and call them to us when we want it to.”

“They’ll catch on sooner or later,” she says, and then she clarifies, “that you’re leading them into a trap.”

“Which means we have to succeed the first time we use it.”

She nods, saying nothing, then looks to Eliza, who’s starting to stir.

Moving swiftly, she heads to the mini fridge tucked in the corner of the room, scans the contents, selects a bottle of orange juice, and brings it to Eliza.

The human girl is trying to push herself up in bed, but she’s weak.

I could help her. Offer her comfort and thanks for what she did.

But I’m glued to the floor, unable to move away from Viktor’s ashes.

After all, the girl is merely a human. Frail. Confused. A pawn in our deadly game. She’ll be taken care of at the Fairmont, and in exchange, she’ll provide blood when needed and entertainment when asked. Beyond that, her existence is irrelevant.

Maria, however, is helping her sit up and lean against the pillow. “You’re safe,” she says gently, unscrewing the bottle’s cap and holding it out for the girl to take. “Drink this. It’ll help with the lightheadedness from the blood loss.”

Eliza nods and accepts Maria’s help with a trembling hand, bringing the bottle to her lips and starting to drink. She barely pauses to breathe, and before long, the juice is gone.

“Another?” Maria asks.

“Yes,” she says, color already returning to her cheeks. “Please.”

Maria brings it over, and Eliza drinks it at a more normal pace. As she does, she gazes around at the mess around us—the destruction caused by my and Viktor’s brawl. The lamp shattered on the ground, the pictures hanging at awkward angles, and the crack in the wall where Viktor slammed into it.

Eventually, she zeroes in on his ashes.

“What happened?” she asks.

“The mission was successful.” Maria keeps the explanation short, and it’s all Eliza needs for understanding to cross her eyes. “You did well. We’ll bring you to the Fairmont when you’re recovered enough to stand up and walk, which shouldn’t be long, thanks to the sugar in the juice.”

“What will you tell the hotel?” she asks.

The question is so human. Many of them focus on the practical when they go into shock. Their brains are too simple to manage anything more.

“Witches will handle the fallout,” Maria says. “Theyll employ magic to obscure our tracks, shaping human beliefs to our advantage.”

“Okay.” Eliza takes a few more sips of her drink, lost in thought.

While she processes everything, I slip the compass into my pocket, taking a moment to regain my composure. To push down the sorrow and guilt that threaten to overwhelm me as I kneel before Viktor’s ashes.

His death will not be in vain. We’ll find a way to defeat the shadow souls, and to protect our world from the darkness that seeks to destroy it.

I won’t accept anything else.