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Instead, Katya leans forward, capturing Lena’s lips in a kiss that’s both violent and invasive. I start to intervene, but Lena handles it herself, breaking free with enough force to send Katya’s chair skidding back several inches.

“Don’t touch me,” Lena hisses, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Katya only smiles, running her tongue across her own lips. “Funny, you loved it before,” she says. Her eyes glitter with malevolent joy. “Luckily I don’t take rejection to heart.”

My hand moves toward my holstered gun, but I freeze at the sensation of cool metal pressing against my ribs. Tatiana has materialized beside our table, a blue dagger in her hand, positioned perfectly to slip between my ribs and into my heart.

“I wouldn’t,” she murmurs, her breath cold against my ear. “This death is so very painful for our kind. For anyone, really.”

Movement at the club’s entrance draws my attention—Konstantin entering, flanked by two shorter vampires. His face shows no surprise at seeing us, only grim satisfaction.

“I told you they’d come,” he says to Katya. “So predictable, these two.”

I practically snarl at him. “This about Marco?” I say to Konstantin. “Or this about Elizabeth Short?” I eye the girls.

“Neither,” Katya says.

“Then what the fuck do you want from us?” I demand, keeping my voice low despite the anger surging through me.

“From you?” Katya shrugs elegantly. “Nothing at the moment. But you see, Victor Callahan, you’ve been looking for us. You’ve been looking for Elizabeth’s killer. And Evelyn Winters’. And Jeanne French’s. And so, here we are.”

I’m not surprised to hear the truth, but I am disturbed by how easily she says it, flashing white fangs at me in a proud smile. She murdered those girls and she doesn’t even care.

“I should arrest you,” I growl at her. “You’ll get the gas chamber.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re a PI, Callahan. You don’t have the jurisdiction. You have no power at all, actually. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Why’d you do it?” Lena asks her, the anger visible in her trembling voice. “Why kill her? What did Betty ever do to you?”

“Betty was a lovely girl,” Katya says. “Kind. Generous. Maybe if we had given her a choice, she would have volunteered. But alas, she was a sacrifice we had to make.”

“Sacrifice to what?” I ask.

“To a better world,” Tatiana says. “Surely you can appreciate that.”

“Nothing wrong with the world we got,” I tell her.

Katya lets out a caustic laugh. “Oh, Callahan. We know you better than that. We know you think this world is rotten, just like we do. I mean, just look at this city, this shining example of all that’s gone wrong. The war stripped away illusions. Everyone’s chasing something—money, fame, oblivion—anything to fill the emptiness the war left behind. The humans won the peace but lost their innocence in return. And so, Daddy found a way to make it all better.” She smiles at Lena. “With your help.”

“Me?” Lena asks, her composure remarkable despite the danger. And it is dangerous. Konstantin, Katya, and Tatiana surround us, their ability to compel ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice, making the two of us do anything. Then there’re the others in the club, the vampires who watch us with the interest. I wouldn’t be surprised if many of them were at the pool party, ready to do the Ivanov’s bidding. Would Lena and I win in a fight against all of this?

But just as I’m calculating our odds, a disturbance ripples through the club. Heads turn toward the entrance, conversations falter, music dies mid-note.

Four figures stand in the doorway, silhouetted against the light from the stairwell. Abe, Ezra, Adonis, and Valtu, each emanating the unmistakable power of the most notorious vampires around.

“The cavalry has arrived,” Lena murmurs, relief evident in her voice.

Katya’s expression sours. “Valtu and Van Helsing,” she spits. “Always interfering where you’re not wanted.”

“On the contrary,” Abe replies, his voice carrying clearly across the now-silent club. “I think we’re exactly where we need to be.”

The tension in the room shifts tangibly, the air itself seeming to thicken with potential violence. Vampires throughout the club rise from their seats, some moving toward the newcomers, others backing away from the impending conflict.

Tatiana’s dagger presses harder against my ribs. “This changes nothing,” she whispers. “You’re still coming with us.”

I meet Lena’s eyes across the table, a silent communication passing between us. Whatever happens next, we face it together.

The two vampire factions stare each other down across the length of the club, centuries of enmity condensed into this moment of confrontation. The humans, drugged and oblivious,continue to sit passively, unaware of the war about to erupt around them.