I study Raleigh. He looks honest and open, but he’s smart and looks can lie.
If the Rogues and Lucian have had some kind of agreement to stay civil for years, and he wants to solidify the truce, why would Santiago claim the Rogues want Lucian out?
“And that truce has nothing to do with expanding into de Santis’s territory?” Lucian asks.
“Not unless you’re offering,” he replies. “But no, we don’t mind our little underground slice of heaven.”
I lean closer to Lucian. “I think he’s telling the truth.”
“You do?” he whispers back.
“If he wanted to kill us, he would’ve done it by now.” This entire thing smells like a power play. Lucian nods.
“There have been rumors,” Raleigh goes on as though he doesn’t hear us, “that you’ve been looking to snuff us out.”
Lucian glances at me briefly. “Who told you this?”
“Santiago,” I reply before Raleigh can.
“Exactly, yes,” he agrees. “I’d rather cut through the bullshit and lay all cards on the table. And if you’re not against us, that means Santiago is the one making moves.”
“He was hoping you two would take each other out,” I say.
“He did seem annoyed that we had this meeting scheduled,” Lucian says to Raleigh. “He didn’t expect us to talk, just to fight.”
“Fighting isn’t really our thing. We take in lost vampires, the ones abandoned by their masters who need help navigating through the change. Sure, we like to dabble in some…illicit things to survive, but the big bad mafia lifestyle—nah. No thanks.”
A vampire orphanage, of sorts. It’s kind of…sweet.
“If Santiago is the one trying to sweep Tenebris clean, we’re going to need to team up,” he goes on. “Show him he can’t just take our city.”
The other vampires cheer loudly.
The air shifts suddenly. Raleigh looks around.
Something’s wrong.
Everyone in the room freezes as the same knowing feeling overcomes us all.
Then glass explodes from above.
A shriek of shattering sound tears through the basement as the window bursts inward, raining shards. A dark shape sails through the opening, spinning end over end.
Raleigh dives. Lucian’s hand clamps around my wrist as we hit the ground, and the world erupts in chaos.
Light detonates across the room. Not just light—heat. Fire blooms on impact, racing across the floor in hungry orange tongues. Flames lick up the walls, swallowing shadows, devouring oxygen. Smoke surges thick and choking, the stench of burning alcohol clawing into my lungs.
A Molotov cocktail.
The realization slams into me as the fire spreads with terrifying speed. Someone threw it from outside. This had been the plan all along. Get us all in the same place to eliminate us.
“Elliot!” Lucian bellows beside me.
He hauls me back as the flames crawl closer, heat searing my calves. His eyes are a wild, glacial blue.
I see it then, the narrow row of windows near the ceiling. Street level. The point of entry.
Lucian follows my gaze. “Go. Get yourself out.”
