Page 27 of The Vampire's Storm

Nikolay Mikhailov had crossed the line.

Vincent knew he’d have to call POTUS at some point. But not now. He wasn’t asking for permission.

His job as king was to protect his family and race.

His army would show the crime world just how powerful the Moretti vampire race was.

Once and for all.

If that meant all of humanity learning they existed, then so be it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Hi Mom,” Brooklyn answered groggily. It was early in the morning, and she’d forgotten to put her phone on silent.

“I was hoping to catch you before work,” her mom said.

She wasn’t going to explain she didn’t start work until the afternoon. That would just bring up questions she couldn’t answer.

“You sound like you are asleep.”

“I’m just”—Brooklyn cleared her throat and sat up, rubbing her forehead—“tired. We had a late night.”

“On a Wednesday?”

Jesus Christ.

“Yes, I went out with some new work friends.”

She didn’t. She went straight home and watched a Netflix show, then crashed.

That was four hours ago.

“Well, that’s nice. Are you liking the new job?” her mom asked. “It’s a shame it’s on the East Coast.”

Not really.

“Were you calling for a reason, Mom?” Brooklyn asked, desperate to get more sleep.

“Yes. I have a surprise for you. Your father and I were thinking we would get a place in New York. A condo. Then we could see you more often. Dad’s found a place and if you wanted, we could fly you in this weekend to look at it with us.”

Oh god.

Her parents were loaded. She might have forgotten to mention that.

Having them move to NYC was the last thing Brooklyn wanted. Next minute, they’d want to see where she worked and that was impossible.

Completely impossible.

Vincent Moretti, who she’d met as part of her induction, had been very clear she had to keep what she was doing confidential. She had signed the NDA (non-disclosure agreement), but it was his words as he slid the cosigned copy across the desk that would keep her lips closed.

“This piece of paper is useless, but its meaning is not. The consequences of you telling a single soul about my race of vampires would be deadly.” Vincent held her eyes firmly that day.

“I understand,” Brooklyn had replied, swallowing loudly.

So no, she had to talk her parents out of this.

“I have to work this weekend,” Brooklyn replied, reaching for the glass of water beside her bed and sipping it.