Page 1 of Property of Mako (Kings of Anarchy MC: Louisiana #1)

The Night the Stars Fell

Three hundred fifty-seven years ago in a crumbling chateau in the Carpathians…

The stars bled that night.

It was midnight and a red moon hung heavy over the ancient stone walls of Chateau D’Aragon, casting a rust-hued glow over its frostbitten towers. Snowflakes drifted like ashes as the night wind howled through shattered stained glass. I stood at the gates, breathless and bloodied, too late.

Again.

My boots crunched over the corpses of my own kind—lesser vampires, house guards, and loyal thralls—slain by silver, ashwood, and cruel precision.

People I’d grown up with, people I’d cared for.

The scent of death thickened with every step toward the great hall, where firelight flickered behind fractured doors.

Though I prayed to a god that had forsaken me, I knew what I’d find. My heart had been warning me for hours.

“Calla,” I whispered, the name a pleading and a curse.

Inside, the marble was smeared with blood, and the tapestry of our family crest—a raven encircled by a wreath of thorns—had been torn from the wall and burned.

And at the base of the throne my father had loved and I had reluctantly inherited, draped across the cracked stone like a fallen angel, lay Calla D’Aragon.

My sister. My heart.

She was still alive—barely. Her white dress was soaked crimson at the hem, her skin pale as the snow outside.

Around her neck was a deep red ribbon, once a symbol of courtly grace.

Now it was stained obsidian, drawn tight against her straining tendons.

A silver dagger protruded from her chest. The ruby embedded in the hilt told me exactly what it was.

A vampire killer.

Devastation washed over me like a cold rain as I dropped to my knees. My hands shook as I cradled her broken form. When I saw the extent of her injuries, I knew I’d never get her to safety in time, and there wasn’t a living soul left for her to feed on.

“Who did this to you?”

Lashes fluttering for a moment, she opened her eyes. Gray, like mine and our mother’s. Soft and storm-filled, despite the pain.

“He wanted you,” she rasped. “But I wouldn’t trade your soul for safety.”

My throat closed. “Thane?”

She nodded once, slowly. “He has no crown, but he wants one. And he thought I was the key.”

I clenched my jaw. Rage burned through my veins. “You should have sent for me. He wouldn’t have beat me—I would’ve ripped his fucking heart from his chest.”

Sorrow filled her soft gaze as she swept the room, taking in the utter devastation. “You wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

I refused to admit she was likely correct. Instead, I stoked the flame of my fury. “He’ll die for this. I swear it.”

But she shook her head weakly, brushing her blood-streaked fingers across my cheek. My chest ached like someone had punched through it and seized my lungs.

“No vengeance. Just remember this—” Her hand moved to the ribbon at her throat. With trembling fingers, she untied it and pressed it into my palm. “When you see it again… you’ll know.”

I froze. “Know what?”

Her lips trembled, her voice a mere whisper. “The prophecy. It wasn’t just myth.”

“What are you talking about?” I demanded, confused.

“A god sleeps beneath the Veil. And she—” Her eyes fluttered. “She’ll wake him…”

Her voice broke off.

“No, no, no—Calla.” I gently shook her before I pressed my forehead to hers, desperate to keep her here. “Don’t leave me. Please?—”

A breath, then none.

The stillness that followed was thick and hollow. A silence that echoed across centuries.

* * *

I buried her in secret beneath the chapel, away from the prying eyes of the courts and the blood-drunk royals who would twist her death for their own gain. The prophecy meant dick shit to me. I didn’t care about sleeping gods because as far as I was concerned, there was no god.

As I stood over her grave with hands fisted, the points of the gold pendant dug into my palm.

Trying desperately to swallow the lump in my throat, I opened my hand and stared at the sun-shaped design.

There was a silver crescent moon that overlaid the left side of the sun.

In the center of the moon was a blood-red ruby.

My mother had worn it.

After she was murdered, I had given it to my sister. It had only seemed right—it had been passed down through my mother’s family for years. Now it seemed darkly symbolic of death—brutal, untimely death. Both my mother and my sister—slain like cattle.

After tucking it into my inside pocket, I pulled off the signet ring I wore with our family crest. With one last kiss to the raven, I tossed it into the open grave before grabbing the shovel and covering what was left of my family.

And when the blood moon passed, Calix D’Aragon vanished from the world he once ruled. In my heart, he no longer existed. Nor did the compassion and humanity I had fought so hard to cling to as the ruler of the D’Aragon empire.

On an icy winter night years later, I exacted my vengeance on Thane. I slaughtered everyone in his camp. My only regret was that he hadn’t been there.

Then I traded a throne for the road. A name for a patch.

And a heart for a curse.