The gates of the Knight mansion creaked open under the weight of another blood-soaked night. Alaric rode in with the wind behind him and vengeance still wet on his boots. The scent of ash and steel clung to his coat as he dismounted, tossing the reins to a silent guard without a glance.
Inside, the mansion pulsed with quiet unrest.
Elizabeth leaned casually against the marble pillar near the foyer, arms crossed, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief and calculation. Beside her, Acantha sat perched on the staircase railing like a cat who'd grown tired of waiting.
"You're late," Acantha said with mock sweetness. "Let me guess—you were out adding more heads to your collection?"
Alaric pulled off his gloves, his expression unreadable. "Actually, yes. Quite a few of your vampires, I believe."
Acantha gave a dramatic sigh and pushed herself upright. "How charming. I'll make sure to light candles for their burnt corpses."
