Peace lasted exactly one night.
Honestly, that was better than expected.
The morning after the first night of jealous queens should have felt calmer.
Instead—
I woke up to the smell of blood.
Not fresh.
Old.
Silver.
Hunter blood.
My eyes opened instantly.
Every instinct sharpened.
The room was dark, the early sunrise barely touching the curtains.
The bite marks on my neck pulsed faintly.
The vampire blood inside me was already awake.
Waiting.
Listening.
Something was wrong.
I stood silently.
No wasted movement.
No hesitation.
Old assassin habits returned like breathing.
The silver dagger Father had given me rested beneath the pillow.
I took it.
Cold.
Familiar.
Comforting.
Then—
a sound.
Outside the house.
One heartbeat.
Slow.
Controlled.
Human.
But not weak.
Interesting.
I walked to the window and looked down.
A man stood near the front gate.
Black coat.
Broad shoulders.
Scar across the jaw.
And eyes that had learned what fear really looked like.
Damien Cross.
The hunter who should have stayed broken.
Apparently disappointment was harder to kill than expected.
I almost smiled.
Good.
I disliked unfinished business.
He looked up.
Straight at my window.
Of course he knew.
Hunters and assassins shared the same disease—
pattern recognition.
I quietly opened the bedroom door.
The house was still asleep.
Good.
No need for family drama before sunrise.
As I reached the stairs, a soft voice came from the darkness.
"Going somewhere?"
Seraphina.
Of course.
She stood leaning against the wall like elegant trouble.
Black silk.
Barefoot.
Crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
And clearly not asleep.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Do vampire women not believe in privacy?"
She crossed her arms.
"Not when hunters stand outside your house before sunrise."
Fair.
From the opposite hallway—
another voice.
"Also, your heartbeat changed."
Selene.
Silver hair loose over her shoulders.
Calm.
Moonlight and judgement.
Wonderful.
Apparently privacy had officially died.
I sighed.
"Do either of you sleep?"
Valeria's voice came from downstairs.
"No."
Of course.
Why was I even surprised anymore?
She walked into view, looking entirely too comfortable in my home for someone who had basically declared war through flirting.
Crimson hair.
Dangerous smile.
Lilith appeared last.
Because apparently if disaster was happening, full attendance was required.
She looked at me once.
Then toward the gate.
"Damien Cross."
Not a question.
Interesting.
"You know him."
Lilith nodded.
"The Silver Fang Order reports upward."
Her expression cooled.
"He should not be alive."
I smiled faintly.
"I'm starting to take that personally."
Father's voice came from behind us.
"You should."
We all turned.
He stood there holding a cup of tea like this was a perfectly normal family sunrise.
Legend.
Absolute legend.
He looked at me.
"If a hunter returns after losing…"
He took a slow sip.
"He either wants revenge or he brings a message."
I looked toward the gate again.
"Knowing my luck, probably both."
Father nodded.
"Go find out."
Mother's voice immediately came from the kitchen—
"And no fighting before breakfast!"
Silence.
Then all five of us answered at once.
"No promises."
Honestly, this family adapted disturbingly fast.
The morning air was cold.
Still.
Damien stood at the gate like a man arriving at his own funeral.
Maybe he was.
I stepped outside alone.
The others watched from inside.
Not because they feared him.
Because they wanted to see what kind of idiot returned voluntarily.
Reasonable.
I stopped a few feet away.
He looked worse.
Older somehow.
People changed after surviving monsters.
I had that effect on people.
He studied me carefully.
Then his gaze moved to the house behind me.
At the windows.
At the hidden watching eyes.
At the monsters pretending to be guests.
His expression became complicated.
Almost pity.
Interesting.
He spoke first.
"I should have stayed away."
I nodded.
"Yes."
He almost smiled.
"At least we agree on something."
I folded my arms.
"You're alive. That suggests either incompetence or determination."
His scar pulled slightly.
"Mostly professional embarrassment."
Fair.
Very fair.
He reached into his coat.
My body reacted instantly.
Silver dagger ready.
Shadow beneath my feet moving.
Assassin and vampire together.
Damien stopped.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Then pulled out—
a letter.
Sealed.
Black wax.
Ancient symbol.
Not Silver Fang.
Something older.
Much older.
He held it out.
"I'm not here to fight."
Disappointing.
He continued.
"I'm here because someone higher than my Order asked me to deliver this personally."
I didn't take it immediately.
"Why?"
His eyes held mine.
"Because she said if anyone else carried it…"
A pause.
Interesting.
"…they would die before reaching your door."
Well.
That was dramatic.
Which was important.
I took the letter.
The moment my fingers touched the seal—
The bloodline inside me reacted.
Ancient recognition.
Power.
Cold.
Royal.
Not one of the wives.
Something older.
Something above clans.
I looked at Damien.
"Who sent this?"
He answered quietly.
And for the first time—
There was real fear in a hunter's voice.
"The Crimson Church."
Silence.
Even the morning air felt heavier.
I knew the name without knowing why.
Memory from the bloodline.
Old enemies.
Ancient judges.
Not hunters.
Something worse.
The people who decided whether monsters deserved to exist.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I broke the seal.
Opened the letter.
One sentence.
Only one.
Written in elegant crimson ink.
The King has awakened.Heaven would like to disagree.
I read it twice.
Then smiled.
Slowly.
Honestly.
Because finally—
Someone had sent a proper challenge.
I looked up at Damien.
"And?"
His voice remained calm.
"They're coming."
Behind me, I could feel it.
Seraphina's killing intent.
Selene's cold silence.
Valeria's excitement.
Lilith's dangerous calm.
Inside the house—
The queens had heard enough.
Good.
Because this was no longer about politics.
This was war.
I folded the letter carefully.
Put it inside my jacket.
And looked at Damien.
"Tell them something for me."
He waited.
I smiled.
Cold.
Sharp.
The smile of the assassin king.
"If Heaven wants a disagreement…"
Shadow moved beneath my feet.
The vampire king answered.
"…it should come prepared to lose."
Damien stared for a second.
Then—
for the first time—
The hunter laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because he finally understood.
Good.
He turned and walked away.
No threats.
No final words.
Just the quiet understanding that next time—
It would not be a conversation.
I stood there watching sunrise touch the city.
Beautiful.
Calm.
Lying.
Because beneath it—
The world had already chosen violence.
And honestly?
So had I.