Kieran moved through Viktor's camp like a ghost.
He'd waited exactly long enough for Viktor to pull most of his forces away, leaving only a skeleton crew guarding the hostages. Marcus took the left flank while Kieran approached from the right.
The humans were bound in a cave, terrified and crying. Two vampire guards stood watch, bored and confident.
They never saw Kieran coming.
One moment, they were complaining about missing the action. The next, they were ash.
"It's okay," Kieran said softly, his hands working quickly through the ropes. "I'm here to help. My associate has vehicles waiting at the base of the mountain. Go quietly, go quickly, and don't look back."
A young woman—couldn't be more than twenty-five—stared at him with wide eyes. "Are you... are you like them?"
"Yes," Kieran said honestly. "But not all monsters are the same."
She nodded slowly, then helped him free the others.
As the last hostage disappeared down the mountain path, Marcus appeared, blood on his clothes but alive.
"Viktor's taken Adrian to the old temple ruins," Marcus reported. "The one where they burned witches during the purges."
Kieran's blood ran cold. "The ritual site."
"He's preparing the ceremony now. We have maybe twenty minutes before he starts."
Twenty minutes to cross five miles of mountain terrain and fight through Viktor's remaining forces.
"Then we'd better hurry," Kieran said, and ran.
He'd spent a thousand years being careful, controlled, measured. But as he raced through the forest with Marcus at his heels, Kieran let himself be what he'd been suppressing for centuries.
A monster.
Trees blurred past. Vampires who tried to stop him died before they could scream. His fangs were fully extended, his eyes blazing crimson, his hands coated in blood and ash.
I'm coming, Adrian. Hold on.
Meanwhile, Adrian was having regrets.
The temple ruins were exactly as creepy as they sounded—crumbling stone covered in moss, ancient symbols carved into every surface, and a distinctly ominous altar in the center.
They'd strapped him to said altar, because of course they had. Very dramatic. Very cliché. Adrian would have complained more if there weren't approximately thirty vampires surrounding him.
Viktor stood over him, holding a ceremonial dagger that looked very sharp and very silver.
"Nothing personal," Viktor said, almost apologetically. "But your death will birth a new age."
"Wait," Adrian said quickly, because stalling was all he had left. "Don't you want to monologue first? Explain your evil plan? That's what bad guys do, right?"
Viktor laughed. "You've watched too many movies. But fine. I'll humor you in your last moments."
He launched into a speech about vampire supremacy, about the old ways, about how humans had grown too numerous and too bold. Adrian listened with half an ear, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond the torchlight.
Where are you, Kieran?
"—and once the old lords return, we'll—"
Viktor stopped mid-sentence. His head tilted, listening.
Then chaos erupted.
Kieran burst through the circle of vampires like an avenging angel, his sword singing as it cut through three vampires in one stroke. Marcus came from the other direction, providing cover fire with guns loaded with wooden bullets.
"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" Kieran roared, and his voice carried a compulsion that made even Viktor stumble back.
The fight was brutal and beautiful. Kieran moved with a grace and violence that shouldn't coexist, every motion purposeful, every strike lethal. This was what he'd been suppressing, Adrian realized. This was the monster that had slaughtered his way through a century of grief.
And he was using every ounce of that power to reach Adrian.
Viktor recovered from his surprise and engaged Kieran directly. Their swords clashed, sending sparks flying. They were evenly matched—both ancient, both powerful, both absolutely unwilling to lose.
"You can't protect him forever!" Viktor snarled.
"Watch me," Kieran shot back, driving him away from the altar.
A vampire slipped past the fight, heading for Adrian with the ceremonial dagger.
"Oh, hell no," Adrian muttered. He'd been working at the ropes since they tied him down, and finally—finally—his right hand came free.
The vampire lunged.
Adrian grabbed the silver knife from his boot and thrust upward.
The vampire exploded into ash, and Adrian immediately started working on his other bonds.
"That's my boy!" Kieran shouted, grinning even as he fought for their lives.
"Less talking, more stabbing!" Adrian yelled back.
He got his other hand free just as another vampire reached him. This one was smarter, knocking the knife away. Adrian did the only thing he could think of—he headbutted the vampire as hard as he could.
Pain exploded through his skull, but the vampire stumbled back, and Adrian scrambled off the altar.
"The dagger!" Marcus shouted. "Don't let them get the dagger!"
Adrian spotted it on the altar and grabbed it. The ceremonial blade burned his hand—apparently silver didn't like him either—but he held on.
"Viktor!" he called. "Looking for this?"
The Russian vampire's eyes widened. "You fool! If you damage that blade, the ritual—"
"Yeah, that's the idea," Adrian said, and threw the dagger as hard as he could into the darkness beyond the ruins.
Viktor screamed in rage and launched himself at Adrian.
He didn't make it.
Kieran intercepted him mid-lunge, driving his sword through Viktor's chest and pinning him to a stone pillar.
"You lose," Kieran said coldly.
Viktor laughed, blood bubbling from his lips. "Do I? Look around, Ashford. My followers are everywhere. Kill me, and ten more will rise. The movement won't die with me."
"Maybe not," Kieran said. "But it'll slow down considerably."
He twisted the sword, and Viktor screamed. Then, with a sound like breaking glass, the Russian vampire crumbled to ash.
Silence fell over the ruins.
The remaining vampires, seeing their leader dead, fled into the darkness. Marcus started to chase them, but Kieran stopped him.
"Let them go. We have what we came for."
He turned to Adrian, his eyes scanning for injuries. "Are you hurt?"
"Just my pride," Adrian said. "And my hand. Turns out silver doesn't like anyone."
Kieran was there in an instant, examining Adrian's burned palm with gentle fingers. "I'm sorry. I should have been faster."
"You were exactly fast enough. We won, didn't we?"
"We won," Kieran agreed. Then, unable to help himself, he pulled Adrian into a crushing embrace. "Don't ever do that again."
"Make suicidal plans to save hostages?"
"Put yourself in danger. Use yourself as bait. Make me watch you almost die." Kieran's voice broke. "My heart only just started working again. I can't go back to the pain."
Adrian hugged him back, feeling the coldness of Kieran's body, the impossible strength in his arms, the trembling that
betrayed just how terrified he'd been.
"I'm okay," Adrian murmured. "We're okay."
Kieran pulled back just enough to cup Adrian's face, his thumbs brushing away dirt and blood. Then he kissed him, desperate and claiming and full of relief.
"Let's go home," he said when they finally broke apart.
Adrian smiled. "Which home? The penthouse is kind of destroyed."
"I have others. I've had a thousand years to acquire real estate." Kieran kept one arm around Adrian's waist, unwilling to let him go. "But first, we need to tend to that burn."
As they walked away from the ruins, Marcus fell into step beside them. "What about Viktor's followers? The ones who escaped?"
"We'll deal with them," Kieran said. "But not tonight. Tonight, I just want to exist in the same space as the person I love without someone trying to kill us."
Adrian's heart stuttered at the casual way Kieran said love, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe, after a thousand years, it was.