"Go rest," he tells me without looking over. "That's enough for tonight."
But I don't leave. Instead, I ask the question that's been building since I got here: "How many have you killed this way?"
"Thirty-seven. Over the last five years." He finally looks at me. "The blood crisis is accelerating. It used to be one or two vampires per year. Now it's averaging almost one per month."
"And Konstantin is making it worse."
"Deliberately. The more chaos, the more desperate vampires become. Desperate vampires make poor decisions. Poor decisions create opportunities he can exploit."
"So what do we do?"
"We fight. We protect the network. We find ways to reduce contamination." His voice is tired in a way I haven't heard before. "And we do what needs doing, even when it costs us."
I understand then what Elena meant. Why she believes in what Maximus is building. Because he's not just hoarding power, he's trying to create order in a system that's collapsing. Trying to prevent more deaths like Michael's.
It doesn't make everything okay. Doesn't erase the moral complications. But it makes me understand why people follow him.
"I'm sorry," I say. "For Michael. For having to do that."
"Don't be sorry for me. Be sorry for every vampire who's suffering because our food supply is poisoned. And then help me fix it."
"How?"
"By being what you are. Sharp. Tactical. Unafraid to see things clearly." He meets my eyes. "You solved the Mercer problem in twenty minutes. That kind of thinking is what we need."
"I got lucky."
"You were prepared when luck came." He moves toward the door, then pauses. "Get some rest, Celeste. Tomorrow night, you attend your first inner circle strategy meeting. I want you to see how we actually make decisions."
After he leaves, I stand in the chamber alone for a long moment. The drain in the floor has already been cleaned; there isno evidence of what happened here except the lingering smell of death.
This is my life now. Not just fighting and feeding, but being part of a system that tries to prevent horrors while sometimes perpetuating smaller ones. Not good or evil, just survival with whatever honor can be salvaged.
I think about Michael. About the Mercer problem. About Maximus standing very still while he killed someone he'd known for twenty-three years.
And I think about the fact that Konstantin is out there right now, planning his next move. Building toward something that will force more vampires into Michael's situation.
I'm not naive enough to think I can stop it all. But maybe I can help reduce the body count.
Maybe that's enough.
Chapter
Eight
Istand at the window of my study, staring out at the grounds.
Michael died less than an hour ago. The execution chamber is already cleaned. No blood. No evidence. Just an empty room that will be used again, inevitably, because the contamination crisis isn't slowing down.
Thirty-seven vampires.
That's how many I've killed this way over the last five years. Not in battle. Not in self-defense. Mercy killings, each one a failure of the system I've built to protect our kind.
Michael Torres was the thirty-seventh.
I should feel something. Guilt, perhaps. Regret. But six hundred years has taught me that sentiment is a luxury I can't afford. Michael was suffering. I ended his suffering. That's all there is to it.
Except it'snotall there is to it, and I know that.
