Blaze's POV
"Did anyone feed from you?" I whispered, voice like death.
She nodded.
Rage flared again—hotter than the fire I'd summoned.
"Who, Clare?" I asked.
Her lips moved. A whisper, broken, but enough.
Red. She
Thelia.
Of course.
I turned, cradling her tighter, and raised my voice. It echoed across the burning chamber like thunder from the grave.
"Defang her. Or I will."
The fire grew in answer.
The vampires went still.
My father stood at the far end, watching me not with fear—but with interest, like I was a wild dog he'd always suspected might bite the hand that raised it.
Let him watch.
Let them all burn.
Because this? This was just the beginning.
That was the moment Clare passed out in my arms.
And I stood, with her cradled against me, and looked around at the vampires who had cheered, who had hooted, who had watched her be torn like prey.
They would burn.
His words slammed into the room like a thunderclap. Chairs cracked. Walls trembled.
