Chapter 3 A dead heart beat.

The doors burst open. Silas rushed in. At the sight of Dmitri’s mangled body fear gripped him. He pulled out his phone with trembling hands.

“Chief,” Silas choked into the receiver. “Touch down at Ravnehall. Right now. He killed the Winter Heir.”

Five minutes later the air in the room shifted as Halloway blurred through the doorway. As the Chief Security Officer nothing normally rattled him. But Halloway took one look at the carnage and froze. His eyes locked on the signet ring glinting on Dmitri’s bloodied finger.

“You fool,” Halloway breathed. “This is not a murder. This is a declaration of war.”

He quickly took out his phone from his jacket and dialed 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 swirled a crystal tumbler of warm blood. His sharp eyes locked 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 the tumbler down and picked up the receiver. “Speak.”

Through the static Halloway’s voice trembled. Unsteady in a way Alaric had not heard from him in a century.

“My Lord…” Halloway choked out. “The Prince has murdered the Winter Heir.”

“Which Winter Heir and which Prince?” Alaric asked. Refusing to believe what he had just heard.

“Malakai has killed the son of Lord Nikolai Volkov.”

“What!” Alaric roared.

He snatched the tumbler off 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 did not look down.

“Burn the room,” he commanded. His voice carried the lethal calm of an execution order.

“Yes my Lord,” Halloway crackled through the speaker.

“Leave no witnesses breathing in that building. Do whatever it takes even if it incurs a blood debt to ensure everything is perfectly covered.” Alaric stepped over the broken glass walking toward the tall window.

“Should I burn the boy’s body with it to look like an accident?” Halloway asked.

“No. If fragments of the Volkov boy are found and an autopsy is done it traces back to us. Bury the corpse where the earth will never give it back.” Alaric stared out into the dark London streets. “And Malakai?”

“Here my Lord.”

“Get him out of Oslo immediately,” Alaric ordered. “Put him on the next flight before dawn. Do not let him pack a bag. Just get him in the air. Whatever it takes. Whatever it costs.”

“Understood,” Halloway replied. The line went dead.

Alaric set the phone down slowly. He reached for a fresh glass poured a second round of blood and took a sip. His face gave nothing away. But his fingers tightened around the stem. His son had just started a war. And he would be the one to pay for it.

MALAKAI

“You heard your father.”

The words cut through the freezing air of the VIP suite. Halloway slid his phone back into his pocket. His eyes settled into cold focus. He reached into his jacket pulled out a set of car keys and threw them across the room.

The metal slapped into my palm.

“Get out of Norway tonight. Be on the very next flight to London,” Halloway ordered. “Silas and I will handle the cover up.”

Arguing was pointless. My gaze drifted back to the floor. Sienna lay in the center of the room. Her dark hair sprawled across the ruined floorboards. Her lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling. I should have said something. I should have knelt. But there was no time for grief. Not here. Not now.

I turned my back and walked out.

Minutes later the engine of the car roared tearing through the vacant streets and leaving the city lights far behind in the thick Norwegian fog. The wheels hissed on wet asphalt.

The crunch of Dmitri’s neck twisting in my hands played over and over in my mind. He had been a constant source of stress for months. Taunting me at the academy. Pushing boundaries to see if I would snap. Tonight he found his answer.

Sienna was just collateral damage in a brutal game of egos. The reality of her death stung. Sharp and cold. She was human. She was not my blood host. She had given me everything she had. Her loyalty. Her warmth. Her love. And I could not give her a single heartbeat in return. A vampire’s heart only beats for its true blood host. And after a long silence I had accepted that maybe, mine did not exist.

I slammed my foot harder on the pedal. The car surged forward rocketing deeper into the winding mountain roads.

Between the thick mist and the adrenaline still burning in my veins I did not see the piercing headlights cutting through the fog until they were directly in front of the hood.

The impact sounded like a detonating bomb.

Tons of metal crushed together at breakneck speed. The force of the collision launched my car into the air. It flipped capsized and skidded across the icy asphalt in a shower of violent sparks before slamming upside down into the guardrail.

My body was thrown against the interior. Shattered glass pierced my skin. Warm blood rushed from a dozen deep wounds. The pain was blinding.

With the last ounce of available strength I kicked upward snapping the metal hinges of the crumpled door off. I dragged my battered body out into the frigid rain. Blood poured down my forehead covering my left eye as the world spun in dark circles.

Forcing my legs to stand took immense effort. Every movement sent a fresh wave of agony through my ribs. I limped slowly toward the second vehicle.

It was severely damaged. The bonnet crumpled upward like crushed paper. Through the shattered windshield I saw a girl trapped inside. She was bruised. Bleeding from a cut on her forehead. Struggling to push her jammed door open.

I took another painful step closer.

The girl stopped struggling. She looked up through the broken glass.

Our eyes met.

My breath caught in my throat. The world stopped spinning. The rain stopped falling. Everything just stopped.

Then something impossible happened.

Thump.

An agonizing spasm ripped through my chest. A sharp gasp escaped my lips. My hand clamped over my heart.

Thump. Thump.

It beat again. Faster. Relentless. I could feel it hammering against my ribs like a caged thing trying to break free.

My eyes went wide. My dead heart was beating.

The realization hit me instantly. The Vorago.

But how? Why her? Why now?

Staring at the girl in the trapped car my mind rejected the reality of what was happening. I had spent months protecting Sienna. I had waged war for her tonight. Yet my heart had never offered a single flutter for her or any other person.

But now a complete stranger bleeding in a wrecked car the rhythm thumped so hard it hurt.

Immediately, My legs gave out.

The asphalt rushed up to meet my face. The last thing I heard was the distant wail of an ambulance siren followed by her scream right before everything went black.