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“Your federal friend was lucky,” she continued, studying me over the rim of her glass. “Brooklyn's court is getting bold. Something's got them spooked enough to risk my wrath.”

I ignored her obvious attempt to draw me out about Cade. “Phoenix Pharmaceuticals ring any bells?”

Her expression shifted slightly—barely perceptible, but I'd spent enough years hunting with Juno to recognize when she was hiding something.

“Upstairs,” she said, nodding toward the VIP section. “This conversation requires privacy.”

I followed her through the writhing crowd, feeling countless eyes track our movement. My hand instinctively drifted toward my blade. The weight of it was reassuring, familiar. The only constant in a world gone mad.

“I swear, if your bloodsucking friends are behind these killings—” I started as we climbed the stairs.

Juno's laugh echoed off the walls, sharp enough to make my teeth ache. “My friends? Please. Working with that pretty fed has made you sloppy, Sean. You're seeing fangs where there aren't any.”

“Five bodies drained completely? No visible wounds?” I countered as we reached the VIP section. “Sounds like your kind's signature move.”

“Give me some credit.” She sprawled across a leather couch, all predatory grace and deadly confidence. “You think we'd be this obvious? This messy?” She scoffed, gesturing for me to sit. “Even a rookie could tell the difference between a feeding and ritual draining. Those bodies weren't our handiwork.” Her smirk widened. “Speaking of rookies, how's your babysitting gig? That fed's quite the pretty boy.”

I remained standing, jaw clenched. “Cade can handle himself.”

“Oh, I bet he can.” Her eyes glittered with dangerous amusement. “But we're not here to discuss your questionable taste in partners.”

“Then get to the point,” I growled, patience wearing thin. “What do you know about Phoenix?”

Juno leaned forward, suddenly serious. “You're in way over your head this time. This isn't some run-of-the-mill monster hunt. We're talking old-school horror show.”

“Cut the cryptic crap and tell me what you know.”

“Phoenix is playing with fire,” she said, voice dropping. “They're bringing in specialists—humans, monsters, beings that don't play well together—all working toward something big. And trust me, it's not a company picnic.”

“What kind of big are we talking? Apocalypse big? Tuesday big?” I asked, thinking of all the end-of-the-world scenarios I'd already lived through.

“The kind of big that has thousand-year-old vampires stockpiling weapons.” Her eyes met mine, dead serious now. “The kind of big that has ancient beings making alliances they'd normally rather die than consider. When immortals start prepping for doomsday? That's when you know we're screwed.”

I ran a hand through my hair, already feeling the weight of another world-ending crisis landing squarely on my shoulders. “Any connection to the marked bodies?”

“Those kills were calculated,” she said, setting her glass down with a decisive click. “Each victim was chosen for a specific reason. Something about their energy signatures being compatible for what they called 'Ascension.'”

The word sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. I'd heard it before, in contexts that never ended well for anyone involved.

Juno tilted her head, studying me with unnerving intensity. “Didn't think you played well with others, especially government types.”

“I don't,” I snapped, suddenly defensive. “But this case... it's messed up. Wrong in ways that make my skin crawl.”

“Hmm.” She gave me a knowing look that made me want to stab something. “Must be serious if you're working with a fed. Unless there's another reason you're keeping him close?”

“Don't start.”

“What? I'm dead, not blind. He's exactly your type: righteous, damaged, probably hiding something interesting under that federal facade.” Her smile turned wicked. “Plus, the way he moves? Definitely trained in something besides standard law enforcement. Might be fun to?—”

“Finish that sentence and I'll stake you myself,” I cut her off, hand instinctively moving to my blade.

She laughed, the sound carrying just enough of an inhuman edge to make nearby patrons shift uncomfortably. “Some thingsnever change, do they? Still so serious, so focused on the mission.” Her expression sobered. “But Sean? Phoenix isn't just playing with power—they're trying to rewrite the rulebook.”

“What do you mean?”

“They're trying to create permanent doorways,” she said bluntly. “Not just summoning or bringing things through temporarily. We're talking about tearing holes in reality that don't close. Ever.”

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, mind already racing through the implications. Permanent breaches meant constant incursions, an endless flood of nightmares pouring into our world.