Page 24

I have searched endlessly. The necromancer must be here.

He must. But as the days rot and stretch into weeks, I begin to question: what if there is no necromancer?

What if all the stories I heard were lies?

What if I crossed the ocean, dug up the dead, buried sacred bones in foreign soil. .. for nothing?

If Cyrus ever finds out what I’ve done—what I stole—he will not stop at death. He will unravel me. Piece by piece. I’ve seen what becomes of traitors. There is no mercy there. No end to his rage.

But I cannot turn back now. I only need one more month. One more month to find what I need and complete what I began.

Just one more month. Please."

“I think that’s the last entry,” I say as I nod to the next page. Ares hands me the journal, and I take a breath.

“January 29, 1927

I cannot beg any longer. I’ve pawned everything I brought across the sea. The bones are still safe—still retrievable. The building is nearly finished. I carved the markers myself, laid stone over them so they will remain untouched. Only I know where they lie.

But I cannot starve. I heard whispers today about an underground fighting ring—a place where rich men bet on bloodshed. They pit men against each other for sport. What they don’t know is that I am no man. I may not look it, but I am stronger. I am faster. And no human can stand against me.

They gave me the name of my opponent: Sebastian Vincent. American, I think. They say he’s brutal, undefeated. That he breaks jaws and ribs without blinking. But I will snap his spine like twine. I will take his blood if I must.

When I win, I’ll have enough to survive one more month. One more month to complete what I began.

The Blood Father waits."

“Holy fuck.”

My eyes rise from the page to meet Juliet’s. She’s pale as a ghost. Her chest rises and falls in short, fast bursts. “Sebastian,” she whispers.

“Juliet?” I question, my brows furrowing.

She’s gone pale. Her mouth opens, then shuts again. Her eyes are fixed on the journal in my lap like it just whispered something only she could hear.

“Juliet?” I ask again gently, my voice tight with concern.

Her hands tremble as she reaches up and presses her fingers against her mouth. Her chest rises sharply. “Sebastian,” she says, barely above a whisper.

Roman straightens beside her, every muscle in his body going taut.

“You knew him?” Ares asks carefully.

Juliet closes her eyes. Shakes her head, but not in denial—more like she’s trying to dislodge something heavy and sharp inside her skull. “I didn’t just know him. He was… he was my fiancé.”

The words hit me like a punch. The psychopath. She mentioned him. “What?”

“I loved him.” Her voice cracks. “Before Roman. Before everything. Sebastian and I were engaged.” She exhales shakily, eyes glassing over.

My heart twists. I haven’t known her that long, but I’ve never heard her voice like this—so raw, so scraped down to the bones.

Juliet continues, her breath picking up. “He had a temper. He could be… controlling. But I didn’t see it at first. I thought he was like me, that he understood what it meant to live a hard life.” She blinks rapidly and shakes her head. She takes in a shaky breath.

Roman doesn’t bristle. He doesn’t look jealous or angry. He simply keeps a steadying hand on her arm, a look of complex understanding in his eyes.

“Sebastian had a rough start at life, and then horrible circumstances after he Resurrected,” Juliet explains, even with moisture pooling in her eyes.

“He hated himself. I think he was punishing himself. He didn’t really care if he died.

He told me about the fights in New York.

He did it for several years. It was guaranteed money because no one else knew what he truly was.

“Shit,” I whisper. “Thaddeus thought he was fighting a human.”

Juliet lets out a sound between a laugh and a sob. “Sebastian wouldn’t have held back. Not even for a second.”

Ares leans forward, elbows on his knees, his brow drawn tight. “That means Thaddeus was killed in that fight. Which explains why the journal ends there.”

Juliet’s whole body is trembling now. Roman pulls her against him, wrapping her in his arms. She buries her face into his chest, and for a long moment, the only sound is her quiet, broken crying.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I didn’t know.”

Juliet shakes her head without looking up. “He’s dead. Long gone. But this just… it’s like the past is hunting me again.”

Roman kisses the top of her head. “You’ve already survived the worst of it, amor. This is just an echo.”

Juliet curses and presses her forehead into Roman’s chest.

This feels too intimate. I feel like I shouldn’t be here.

There’s obviously so much painful history here.

I can feel the agony radiating off Juliet right now.

Juliet did love Sebastian. I can feel it without even trying.

But her pain, her anguish—Sebastian also hurt Juliet in the deepest way possible.

What happened to Sebastian? What did he do to her? Juliet said she and Roman had been together for ten years. I can see the love between them in such an obvious way. But this reaction? Juliet obviously wasn’t expecting the past to rear its ugly head on something so seemingly unrelated.

Damn. Poor Juliet.

Ares and I glance at each other, and though it’s unspoken, I see it in his eyes. A moment of gratitude. It’s me and him. There hasn’t been a moment of harshness or betrayal. There’s never been anything that’s made me question him. He’s never once hurt me.

He is my person from now until time ceases.

And I’m so fucking grateful that I’ve never had to go through the kind of heartache Juliet has.

As Ares offers me a small smile, a look in his eyes that just screams I love you , I think maybe the same thoughts are rolling through his head.

Juliet takes in a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. I glance down at the journal still clutched in my hand, and that’s when I notice it.

There’s one last page. The ink is different. The paper less stained, the scrawl more controlled. It isn’t Thaddeus’ frantic, blood-rushed handwriting.

This is neater. Sharper. Calculated.

“There’s one more entry,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. It comes out hoarse, like it’s scraped over gravel. “Guys, there’s one more entry!”

The atmosphere shifts instantly. Tension thickens in the air like smoke.

I clear my throat and begin to read.

“Entry by James St. Claire – August 23

I’ve read every word he left behind. Thaddeus St. Claire. My father’s uncle. A fanatic, yes—but he wasn’t wrong. The Blood Father was left to rot with no respect. Left to be forgotten.

It took me years. Decades. I tracked his steps through rumors, dust, and dead ends. I followed him through the web of history, and eventually, the truth clawed its way up from the dirt.

I narrowed down the buildings. There were five under construction in that year. And I’ve narrowed it down to only two possibilities. I tracked down the blueprints. And then I tracked down the owners.

Ares Hunt. Augustus Lonan.

Father and son.

Now, I’ve made sure I have access to both.

Thaddeus failed because he only had rumors to go on. Because he ran out of time.

I won’t.

I found a necromancer before I even came searching for the bones.

Markus arrives tomorrow.

The rightful ruler of vampires sleeps beneath our feet.

Soon, he will rise.”

I close the journal softly.

No one says a word. The only sound is the faint hum of the city bleeding in through the penthouse windows.

Juliet is the one to break the silence.

Her voice is low. Distant. “He did it.”

Roman looks over at her, brow furrowed.

She clarifies, still stunned. “James accomplished what Thaddeus couldn’t. He actually found a necromancer.”

Ares rises slowly to his feet. His jaw is tight, the veins in his forearms standing out like cords, he’s wound so tight.

“And now that necromancer is in my city,” he says darkly. “Working with someone who knows every corner of my life.”

The weight in the room shifts again.

It’s not just betrayal anymore.

It feels like… prophecy.

And we’re standing in the middle of it.

“That last entry, it was only four days ago,” Roman says, scrubbing a hand over his face in disbelief.

“What a fucking disaster,” I say, shaking my head.

“I mean, the whole origins, the lore, everything to do with how vampires came to be, is so wild. But this? Taking it all the way back to where all of you came from? His name is the Blood Father , for fuck’s sake.

Do things ever get quiet and easy in this world? ”

“Not really, no,” Juliet says at the same time Roman smirks like what I just asked is cute.

I shake my head again. “At least my life will never be boring again.”

Juliet sniffs, wiping at her face. “Unlikely.” She tries to laugh about it, but what she just learned has obviously still got her in a chokehold.

“Look, we need to get on this shit, but I could kind of use a minute. So, we’re going to go back to our hotel for a bit.

We’ll call you when we’re ready to head out again, if that’s alright. ”

“Of course,” I say, nodding my head. Hell, I wouldn’t blame her if she needed a whole week instead of a minute.

“See you soon,” Roman says, taking his wife’s hand and walking to the door with her. Ares and I watch as they walk out and close the door behind them.

Ares slides his hands around my hips from behind, pulling me into him. The movement is wildly comforting in a moment when I’m feeling… overwhelmed? Scared? It’s all so crazy I don’t really even know.

“We need to update the Barons,” Ares says. The rumble in his chest as he speaks is one of my favorite feelings in the world.

“Oh yeah,” I say, chucking, because, of course, there is one more thing. “Harry and Sysco made me a Baron while you… weren’t you.”

“Of course they did,” Ares says without even a hint of surprise. He presses a kiss to the hollow behind my ear. “You’re Lana fucking Kincade.”