Page 89 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts

“That you plan to use Amelia until she gathers the Sacreds needed for the war you and Callan are waging against the Queen,and then discard her.”

“Callan wants to destroy Ana, and Amelia wants to gather the Sacreds. I don’t see why helping either of them, when it aligns with my own cause, means I’m using anyone,” Mikhail replied calmly.

Viktor’s grey eyes flashed. “And what is your cause?”

It was a loaded question, but Mikhail took the bait. “I need to uncover the truth behind the impaired regeneration.”

His friend got to his feet. “Do you know what I think? You couldn’t care less about the regeneration issue. The only thing you’re looking for is yet another enemy to feed your anger and self-loathing. A reason to keep yourself miserable.”

“I’m not miserable, Viktor. I’mangry,and rightly so. And it seems you are, too.”

Viktor pointed at him. “Years ago, you saved me. I thought I was doing the same for you when I agreed to build the Hospital. But ever since then, all I’ve witnessed is your cold fury. We all have.”

“How could I not be angry when I’ve been stuck in the same place for years, making no progress?” The beast in his heart stirred in protest. What was Viktor trying to provoke?

“You’re stuckinternally. You fight to fix the world outside, but do absolutely nothing for yourself. You give everything to the Hospital, but you’ve never taken anything for yourself – except Amelia.”

“I don’t want to be with her,” Mikhail growled. He was done with this conversation. To avoid saying anything regrettable, he grabbed the beer bottle and took a drink. Damn it. It tasted like witcher’s sweat. He set the bottle down and stood up. “At last, I have a direction. A tangible enemy – not just some vague regeneration issue that I’ve spent years questioning as divine punishment, reversed evolution, or something else. The Oracle is my ally, and I will treat her with the utmost respect her titledeserves, but don’t ask me to declare love for a woman I don’t even know.”

Viktor froze as the hum of an engine sliced through the night without warning. “Someone’s coming! We need to hide!”

Mikhail placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t panic. I’ve been expecting them.”

***

Amelia

Amelia stepped out of the forest at dawn, her muscles tense. An unfamiliar car was parked next to Viktor’s old Volvo. Proceeding with caution, she slipped through the shadows. Who could have arrived? Could Constantine have somehow tracked them down?

She was only a few metres away when Alex appeared from within the house.

“Alex!” Amelia whispered to catch her attention.

“Oh, there you are!”

“What’s going on?”

Alex beckoned her inside. “Come on, hurry up!”

Amelia followed her into the main room. Mikhail’s gold-green eyes greeted her from the far side, where he stood with his arms crossed. Viktor and Callan sat in armchairs facing each other; between them, on the sofa, were two strange men and a woman.

Amelia observed the newcomers. The man closest to her had gentle features, dark, expressive eyebrows, and striking silver-toned eyes. Her attention shifted from hisMetallicaT-shirt to his ripped blue jeans, paired with white trainers.

“This is Amelia,” Mikhail introduced her to the strangers before gesturing towards the man in theMetallicaT-shirt. “Amelia, this is Mor.”

Mor greeted her with a shy smile, but Amelia had met enough immortals to recognise that he was far more than just a bashful, pretty face with a romantic aura.

“Mor?” she repeated. “As in ‘plague’ in Bulgarian?”

He shrugged. “My parents had certain expectations for me.”

“Or perhaps they were overly enthusiastic about impending parenthood,” the blonde woman seated beside him said. Her sharp grey irises gleamed, matching the severity of her cheekbones. An olive-green tank top and black trousers accentuated her feminine but athletic build. A holster with a weapon was strapped to her waist. “Jasmina,” she introduced herself.

Amelia nodded, her gaze following the woman’s hand, which the man beside her clasped. In his chiselled features, she recognised a lycanthrope. His animalistic nature was so vivid that not even his attractiveness could mask the predatory aura he radiated. Dressed in black, he exuded a mix of Callan’s elegance and Mikhail’s rugged masculinity.

He released Jasmina’s hand and stood, a tight-lipped smile playing on his lips. Was it an attempt at friendliness or mockery?

“The Oracle.” His deep, commanding voice seeped into Amelia’s skin. There was something vaguely familiar about it. She resisted the urge to step back.