Chapter 3 Chaos and cover up.

"Finally." Dmitri smirked, pulling her head backwards until she gasped.

"I was starting to think the untouchable London Prince wouldn't show up."

Malakai stare at Sienna on the floor. Her face was bruised and tear-stained, and blood had dried in a thin line along her temple.

"Let her go, Dmitri."

Malakai's voice remained calm. His eyes stayed on Sienna.

"Whatever this is, it has nothing to do with her. Name your price. I'll pay it, and we'll walk out."

Dmitri laughed.

Then he kicked Sienna hard in the ribs.

She let out a sharp cry.

"We are not in London, Malakai, and we are certainly not in Russia," Dmitri spat. "This academy answers to no Council and no treaty. Everyone here bows to me except you. I control the air they breathe and the blood they drink."

He tightened his grip on Sienna's hair, forcing her head backwards.

"I took her because I want to see the icy Prince break. If you want her out of here alive, Get on your knees and beg me." He boasted with a wicked grin on his face. He took both hands and place them on Sienna head.

Malakai looked at Sienna again.

Her eyes found his.

She wasn't asking him to save her.

She was begging him to run.

"I will never bow to you". Malakai replied. " Let her go and face me if you are man enough." He challenged.

"Wrong answer." Dmitri snapped and before Malakai could make any move he

twisted his wrist cracking her neck.

Sienna let out a loud painful wail that cut through the silent room before she gave up the ghost.

He released her, allowing her lifeless body to fall to the floor like a piece of garbage.

"Oops," Dmitri mocked. "Guess you should have—"

The restraint inside Malakai snapped.

He crossed the room faster than Dmitri could react, slamming him against the concrete wall.

Before the vampire could raise his hands, Malakai sank his fangs into his throat and tore into his flesh.

Blood sprayed across the glass table.

Dmitri gasped, his hands scrabbling uselessly against Malakai's grip. The arrogance vanished from his face, replaced by raw terror.

He opened his mouth to speak.

Malakai seized his jaw and tore it into two.

He stared at his bloody hands and then to Sienna lifeless body on the floor. His eyes moved to Dmitri body and his separated jaws on the floor.

Dmitri Volkov, the winter sovereign heir was dead.

As he stood there reminiscing On what he had done, The doors burst open.

Silas rushed into the room, only to freeze at the sight of Dmitri's mangled body. For a moment, he couldn't move. His gaze travelled from the blood splattered across the walls to the lifeless figure on the floor.

Fear gripped him.

He fumbled for his phone, his trembling fingers struggling to unlock the screen. The moment the call connected, he pressed the receiver against his ear.

"Chief," Silas choked out. "Get to Ravnehall. Right now. Prince Malakai has killed Dmitri Volkov"

From where Malakai stood he could hear the scream from the other end of the call.

Five minutes later, the doors slammed open again.

Halloway stepped inside.

As Chief Security Officer, very little could rattle him. He had witnessed enough violence and political disasters to remain composed in situations that would send others into panic.

But the sight before him brought him to a halt.

His eyes moved across the carnage before settling on the body. Then he noticed the signet ring glinting on Dmitri's bloodied finger.

His expression changed.

"You fool," he breathed. "This is not a murder. This is a declaration of war."

He reached into his jacket, retrieved his phone and dialled a number.

---

BLOODGATE MANOR, LONDON

The fire crackled in the grand study of the Von Voss manor.

Lord Alaric, the undisputed ruler of the London vampires, stood beside his desk, swirling a crystal tumbler of warm blood. His sharp eyes remained fixed on the rain lashing against the glass windows.

The silence of the manor was absolute.

Then the phone on his desk began to ring.

Alaric set down his tumbler and picked up the receiver.

"Speak."

Static crackled through the line before Halloway's voice emerged.

"My Lord..."

There was something unsteady in his tone, something Alaric had not heard from him in years.

"The Prince has murdered the Winter Heir."

Alaric's expression remained unchanged.

"Which Winter Heir, and which prince?"

For a moment, he seemed unwilling to accept the possibility.

"Malakai has killed the son of Lord Nikolai Volkov."

"What!"

The roar tore through the study.

Alaric snatched the tumbler from the desk. His grip tightened until the crystal shattered in his hand. Dark blood poured over his knuckles and spread across the polished wood. Glass scattered at his feet.

He didn't look down.

"Burn the room," he commanded.

His voice had dropped into the lethal calm of an execution order.

"Yes, my lord," Halloway replied.

"Leave no witnesses breathing in that building. Do whatever it takes to ensure everything is covered."

Alaric stepped over the broken glass and walked towards the tall window.

"Should I burn the boy's body with the room and make it look like an accident?" Halloway asked.

"No. If fragments of the Volkov boy are recovered and an autopsy is performed, the evidence could lead back to us. Remove the corpse and bury it somewhere the earth will never give it back."

Alaric stared out at the dark London streets.

"And Malakai?"

"He's here, my lord."

"Get him out of Oslo immediately. Put him on the next flight to London before dawn. Do not let him pack a bag. Just get him in the air. Whatever it takes. Whatever it costs."

"Understood, my lord."

The line went dead.

Alaric slowly lowered the phone.

He reached for a fresh glass, poured himself another measure of blood and took a sip. His expression revealed nothing, but his fingers tightened around the stem.

His son had just started a war.

---

NORWAY - MALAKAI

"You heard your father."

Halloway's voice cut through the freezing air of the room.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket, his expression settling into cold determination. Reaching into his jacket, he retrieved a set of car keys and threw them across the room.

The metal slapped against Malakai's palm.

"Get out of Norway tonight. Be on the very next flight to London. Silas and I will handle the cover-up."

Malakai caught the keys without responding.

Arguing would accomplish nothing.

His gaze drifted back towards the floor.

Sienna lay in the centre of the room, her dark hair spread across the ruined floorboards. Her lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling.

For a moment, he remained where he stood.

He should have said something. He should have knelt beside her, perhaps even closed her eyes.

But there was no time for grief. Not here. Not now.

He turned his back and walked out.

Minutes later, the engine roared to life as he drove through the vacant streets, leaving the city lights behind in the thick Norwegian fog. The wheels hissed against the wet asphalt.

The sound of Dmitri's neck snapping beneath his hands played over and over in his mind.

The bastard had been a constant source of trouble for months, taunting him at the academy and pushing boundaries simply to see how far he could go before Malakai snapped.

Tonight, he had finally found his answer.

But then, Sienna ended up becoming a collateral damage in a brutal game of royal egos.