The palace throbbed with opulence, gilded gates yawning wide as a fleet of luxury cars glided in like sleek, polished shadows under the moonlit sky. Engines purred like tamed beasts, tires whispering against the marble driveway. Tonight, the Ravenscroft palace wasn't just a fortress of old power; it was the heartbeat of the nation—alive, decadent, and dripping in silent menace.
Inside, the grand hall transformed into a scene plucked straight from a decadent dream—crystal chandeliers shimmered like frozen stars, catching the light in a thousand fractured glimmers. Golden columns loomed with imperial arrogance, the ceilings kissed by intricate frescos only royalty could afford. Music thrummed low, rich with classical strings, barely veiling the chatter and clink of crystal flutes.
Among the crowd that flowed like a river of diamonds and silk were ministers, moguls, and dignitaries draped in couture, their masks of civility doing little to hide the monsters underneath. Most of them weren't human—and yet, they wore the skin of elegance with unnerving ease.
A sleek black Lamborghini rolled to a stop outside, the engine's growl sharp as a predator's warning. The door opened with a whisper and Amelia stepped out, her stiletto heels clicking against the stones. Her gaze flicked up, her lips parting slightly as awe washed over her. It was her first time at the palace, and even her imagination hadn't dared conjure this level of grandeur.
The smell of roses, old wood, and something darker—older—filled the air. Her parents emerged from another car, and together they moved towards the grand entrance, joining the stream of elite bloodlines and concealed monsters walking into a hall painted in wealth.
Elsewhere in the palace, beyond the reach of flashing cameras and fluttering fans, the atmosphere was decidedly darker.
Leonard adjusted the cuffs of his tailored black suit as he stepped into a chamber tucked behind heavy double doors. His hair, slicked back and styled with precision, gleamed under the soft glow of candlelight. Inside, Damien stood before a full-length mirror, dressed in a black-on-black ensemble that screamed authority and sin in equal measure. The top two buttons of his shirt remained undone, the dip revealing a peek of sculpted chest and a tattoo inked in ancient symbols that glowed faintly beneath the skin.
He didn't look at Leonard.
"Maximilian's feeding again," Leonard muttered, gaze flicking to the vampire crouched near the divan.
Maximilian had his face buried in the curve of a woman's neck. Her body gave a soft shudder, then crumpled like silk. Her blood left a thin trail along her shoulder, glinting like rubies under the light.
With a low hiss, Maximilian licked the corner of his mouth, red eyes glowing. "We investigated what might've attacked Cora's mother," he said, voice still thick with hunger.
Damien turned from the mirror slowly, every motion deliberate, composed, as if the world only rotated on his time. He didn't rush; he never had to.
"What did you find?" he asked, voice smooth as aged whiskey with the bite of command underneath.
Leonard stepped forward. "Doctor Sam confirmed it. The wounds were inflicted by a siren. Long, razor-edged nails. The venom left in the blood matches their species."
A slow smirk curled Damien's lips, the kind of smile that made women ache and men seethe. He turned fully, radiating lethal grace.
"So the sea creatures are getting bold now?" he murmured, the glint in his eye purely amused. "How charming."
Maximilian's brow furrowed. "If Cora is a mermaid, it doesn't add up. Alicia was fully human. I saw it myself, in my past life. She wasn't one of them "
Damien walked past them, picking up his watch from the dresser. "Then either we've been lied to, or fate has a twisted sense of humor." Or their memory aren't serving them right . He clipped it onto his wrist with a snap.
"We don't know enough yet," Leonard added, "but it's only a matter of time before the truth cracks open."
Damien's gaze flicked to the unconscious woman on the floor. "Clean that up," he said, already striding out the door. "And make sure she forgets everything... or dispose of her. I'm not in the mood for witnesses."
Cora stood in front of the tall mirror in her room, the scent of jasmine and sea salt clinging to her skin. The red gown she wore hugged her body like liquid flame, the fabric whispering around her hips with every breath. Her mask rested delicately on her face, accentuating the curve of her cheekbones and the mystery in her eyes.
She hadn't planned to attend. The idea of walking among strangers—predators, many of them—had made her chest tighten. But hiding wouldn't reveal truths. So she allowed herself to be dressed, allowed the servant's hands to pull her into the kind of gown women wore when they wanted to be remembered. Sighing she entered the bathroom.
Turning the faucet on, she watched as her reflection shimmered. The water glowed faintly, and once again, she saw it—the flash of iridescent scales of gold and blue flickering beneath her skin like a secret fighting to surface.
Her heart pounded.
She just hoped she could uncover the truth before the truth stripped her of what little normalcy she had left.
The door creaked open behind her.
Damien stepped in like a storm wrapped in silk, black suit tailored to the curve of his arrogance. He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes roaming—not with lust, but with unspoken possession.
"I came to see if you were still hiding in that little nest of yours," he said lazily, lips quirking. "But it seems you've decided to step out ".
She turned to him, heart skipping. "You expected me not to come?"
"I expected you to be face them," he murmured, walking toward her. "With me by your side you shouldn't be scared ."
He stopped a breath away, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers lingered.
"You look ethereal," he said, voice dropping low, eyes holding hers like a net. "Like something carved out of temptation."
A flush crept up her neck.
He leaned in, but instead of kissing her, he turned slightly, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.
"We found the creature who attacked your mother," he whispered. "She's a siren."
Cora stilled. Her breath caught.
"We don't know yet why she attacked your mother , but I'm sure it'll be associated with you " Damien said simply.
"What if she knows what I am ?"
"Then it means you're not safe," he murmured. " if the sirens know… others will too."
His fingers traced the edge of her mask.
Cora clenched her fist , A siren had attacked her mother?