Eve
The name rang out like a thunderclap.
They stiffened. One choked on his breath.
"Vassir?" someone repeated, disbelieving. "The vampire prince?"
"That's impossible," Gallinti said. "He was slain. Devoured during Malrik's reaping. Even his horn was taken. That was over ten centuries ago."
"And yet," Montegue said, pacing now, slow and measured, "here he is—living off the bones of a man stronger than any of us. Biding his time. Feeding off grief, trauma, and bloodlines long forgotten."
Silas stared at him. "You're telling us that our Alpha, our sovereign, is host to the spirit of a dead vampire tyrant?"
"Yes," Montegue said.
"And that we're supposed to believe you can just—what? Pluck him out like a splinter?"
Montegue's voice dropped into steel. "No. We carve him out. And possibly only one person can do that."
He turned to me, they all did.
I took a deep breath. "We will go with the Fenrir's Chain rite. I will bind myself to it, to them."
