Serafina, who has been watching quietly, suddenly leans forward. “Honestly? I think knitting’s cool. I always wanted to learn.”
Min’s face softens. Without missing a beat, she pats the seat beside her. “Come here. I’ll show you the basics.”
Serafina hesitates, then slides over, curiosity shining in her eyes. Min presses a pair of needles into her hands, guiding her fingers. “It’s just loops and patience. One stitch at a time.”
Serafina grins, clumsy but eager as she tries. “Okay, but if I stab myself, you’re responsible.”
“Welcome to knitting,” Min teases. “Blood sacrifice is part of the tradition.”
That earns a ripple of laughter through the group, even Victoria covering her mouth to hide a smile.
This time the laughter lingers a beat too long, like we’re afraid to let it go. Even Marcus softens, his mouth twitching at Serafina’s disastrous first attempt at knitting. For a second, it almost feels like we’re just people again—just a mismatched group, wasting hours on yarn and teasing.
But then Belvedere clears his throat. The sound slices through the warmth like a blade. My stomach knots instantly, because I know that tone.
“Enjoy the fun while you can,” he says, eyes sweeping over us, lingering just long enough to shake the smile off my face.“Because the matter at hand hasn’t changed. Your families are still petrified.”
He must see our faces fall because he grins. “I guess I woke up in a mood. Never fear, my sweets. There is a way to break the curse. But it hinges on Maximillian.”
The name alone instantly stains the mood. Leonard goes quiet. Victoria folds her arms like she’s holding herself together. Even Min’s needles pause mid-click.
My pulse kicks up. “You’re telling me we can’t kill him.”
“Not yet,” Belvedere replies smoothly, like the idea doesn’t sting. “The council identified the ingredients in the potion, yes—but not the ratios, not the rites, not the spellwork woven through it. Maximillian is the only one who knows exactly how it was done.”
The words burn going down. “So, he holds the key.”
“And until we have it,” Belvedere says, his gaze cutting to me, “your families stay stone.”
Silence crashes over us. The only sound is Min, clicking her needles again like she can knit away the tension.
Marcus’s jaw tightens, his voice low, dangerous. “Then we keep him alive. But once the curse is broken…”
He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to. I feel the promise in my bones, the echo of it thrumming in my own chest.
“It’s not that easy to kill a vampire.” Belvedere says.
“Oh, I know. If it was, I would pay my entire family’s fortune to hire every assassin there is to take the fucker down. No offense, Victoria.” I add as I realize I might well be making Victoria uncomfortable.
“None taken. If it was that easy, I would too. Lucky for you guys, I happen to know just how to do it.”
Marcus turns to me. “I swear to you on the Benyamina name, I will make sure both our families will be fine.”
The vehemence with which he declares this sits thick in the car. With every fiber in my body, I can feel what he is promising.
I take his hand. “I know.”
His eyes widen for a brief moment as I reassure him that I believe him. The surprise hits me too. Somewhere along the way, my wolf and I stopped measuring and started following. We look to him now, not with suspicion, but with trust. With faith. It feels less like weighing risks and more like recognizing a leader, a mate, someone my bones know will do whatever it takes to keep his word. The knowing is startling and intimate, a thread pulling tight between us.
32
MARCUS
When we get home, I don’t allow myself the luxury of hesitation. The doors barely swing open before I’m moving, each step deliberate, fueled by the weight of what has to be done.
The staff are already assembled in the grand hall—no doubt at Sebastian’s command—their faces pale, eyes darting nervously between one another and me. The air hums with unspoken questions, the kind that crackle like static, restless and searching for answers I can’t afford to give.
“Please, everyone, join me in the living room.” The words leave my mouth before I think, and immediately I feel like a fool. As if they don’t know where the living room is—most of them have served this house for decades. But still, they hesitate, shifting uncertainly. It isn’t formality that holds them back—it’s fear. Fear of being caught in the wrong place if Sebastian disapproves.
