Page 24

Dead by Dawn

Secession Studios, Greg Dombrowski

I had a problem. They all expected me to become the next Alpha. But what none of them knew was that this would never happen.

If I'd had the choice, I would have walked away from the beginning, but here I was, sitting in my father's study, staring at the old painting of Jeremiah Copeland posing with his fiancée, Tayen, about two centuries ago.

Even a blind man could see how deeply in love they must have been.

Jeremiah had found the woman of his dreams and, with her, ensured that this bloodline existed. A bloodline of creatures whose task was to prevent the misery-spreading Ruisangors from breeding and leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. At least, that was what Father liked to tell us at dinner, ever since I could remember.

Even though a lot had changed over the last century, the Senseque still hated these dark creatures.

I wondered what hatred felt like. Whether I would ever be capable of hating someone so deeply.

Loud footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Hastily, I got up and pushed the paperback behind my back, tucking it into the waistband of my pants under my loose shirt, suppressing a quiet curse.

“I can't believe she's supposed to be the daughter of a witch!”

The double door flew open and Dimitrio Rolanow – who had recently been acting like my father's closest advisor and walking in and out of this house as if he were the Pasha himself – stormed past me, beside himself with rage, as if I didn't exist.

Father hurried after him with an exhausted expression, gave me a brief, scrutinizing look, and then sat down at his desk.

“She didn't even know,” came the reply from the doorway as Alarik rushed in.

“Close the door,” my father ordered, more a sigh than a command, and Alarik obeyed.

I looked at my distracted uncle, who had just brought the strangely smelling girl onto our property.

Something was wrong with her.

I had already encountered her twice. Once, when she had watched Emely's transformation, and the second time, when she had been on campus with Bardot.

Alarik turned to us, and for a brief moment, his gaze lingered on me.

I knew he didn't like me being present. He thought I was too young for these matters. And I would never admit to him how right he was.

“Your brother is acting behind your back!” Dimitrio growled, forcing me to look at his menacing appearance.

When he caught me staring, I quickly looked back at my father, who, as so often, was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“Our guest is right,” he finally began, looking up from his desk at Alarik with a stiff expression. “This should have been discussed.”

Alarik pointed at the door.

“We can't punish her for her mother's mistakes. She knows nothing about herself.”

My father seemed to be contemplating.

No one knew the man behind the mahogany desk as well as I did, not even Alarik.

I knew that he agreed with his younger brother but was afraid to go against Dimitrio.

How could he?

Father sighed.