Don't panic. Do not panic, Evelyn thought to herself over and over, standing at the top of the front steps of what used to be the La Chapelle mansion. Now it belonged to her brother, but he refused to move in. He kept saying that if he lived in the biggest house of the entire pack when it was just him and a mate that couldn't have his children, he would be no better than any of the alphas they just killed.

For now, they were using the ballroom as a war room to plan the attack on the vampiric military base. First, they had to figure out the best way to infiltrate with the wolves before the full moon hit. Then how to get Raphaël and Cyrille's horde of blood- and pleasure-starved vampires in to overrun the base. So far, their best plan was to rig the doors of a convoy of semi-trucks to explode open, then ram the gates and see how far they could get before the drivers were killed and the hordes were released.

It was a terrible plan, and they were working on solutions before Aarón left with Danika to say goodbye to Kate before she went down to the catacombs. That left Evelyn to ponder their many dilemmas, including what the hell to do with the massive house.

But any thoughts of that were wiped away when Miguel came running back, his eyes wide in panic, confusion, and fear, and said those eight words. "The Counsel is coming! Constantine is with them!"

Constantine Moureaux... was coming here?!

She barely had the time to call Raphaël and tell him to be prepared but not do anything stupid until he got the signal from either her or Aarón. If Constantine had come alone, then fine, kill him. But Aarón had been adamant about keeping good relations with the Counsel. Their current representative, Nikolai Jorelle, was a good man and had been working with Aarón and Evelyn to unite the packs since the very beginning.

They were prepared to deal with the consequences of hunting Nolan Wes and his bloodline. Sacrifices always had to be made for victory. But threatening the other Counsel members was stupid, reckless, and counterproductive.

Evelyn shouldn't have to explain any of that to Raphaël. But there had been a change in the vampire lately. His contributions to the attack plan were wild, dangerous, and would have resulted in nearly everyone dying. It would get the job done, but what was the point if everyone was dead? She used to trust him explicitly. Now she wasn't so sure, and this was the worst time to find out!

She managed to give Miguel similar orders to pass around to the wolves. Be ready, but don't do anything. Keep their eyes open for any vampires they don't know. There was no way Constantine was coming here unprotected, and she did not trust that Nolan Wes wouldn't be waiting on the sidelines.

So, she watched nervously as the armored SUVs with the Counsel logo emblazoned on the door came slowly up the drive. Deep breaths. Calm your heart. Don't panic.

Jorelle was the first to step out of the car, and she tried so hard to keep her attention on him. But when Constantine Moureaux appeared next, she couldn't tear her eyes away. He was everything the legends, stories, and recon reports claimed. But the pictures did not do him justice. White as snow skin with black cracks extending from his eyes. Equally white hair was tied back in a knot at the back of his head. Persistently glowing red eyes trailed up the stairs and met hers.

It didn't matter how many times she told herself to calm down then. She had looked into the eyes of vampires and werewolves alike, and none of them had eyes like his. He was the first vampire. The first of their kind. As Eve had been for the werewolves.

Emotion welled up in Evelyn's throat. The Guerrero's had nothing against this man. Constantine had actually advocated for the lycans in protest of Nolan Wes's vendetta. They had only agreed to help Raphaël kill him in return for hunting Wes. It made no difference to them whether he lived or died before, but now... A shudder made its way through her spine. She did not want those eyes hunting her.

"Evelyn," Jorelle's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she turned to accept the shifter's hand. "I apologize for not calling ahead. I didn't think you would see us if you knew we were coming."

His head tilted meaningfully towards Constantine. The vampire had not looked away once, and there was an unreadable expression on his face. Evelyn swallowed and cleared her throat. "It's no problem, Lord Jorelle. Unfortunately, my brother is-"

"Incredible," Constantine whispered, and a chill settled over her. He walked up the final step and was suddenly intimately close. He was only a few inches taller, but Evelyn felt like a child under his stare. "You look exactly like her."

"Who?" her throat felt too tight to say anything louder than a whisper.

"Eve."

A thick, oppressive silence hung between them as the vampire stared intently at her. The only sign that he hadn't turned to stone was the slow glide of his eyes as he committed every inch of her to memory and compared them to the ones he had of her ancestor. She was a perfect replica, ignoring the modern tattoo styles. He'd think she was her reincarnation if he believed in such things.

Constantine wondered if Nolan knew about her or if he was committing all of his attention to her brother. It was very likely intentional. Maybe they should have insisted he come. Even Nolan would have had a hard time ignoring their likeness. Could he continue holding such animosity towards the breed if he were forced to see her face again? Or would it only make things worse?

A loose thread of magic hung in the air between them. He wondered if the girl... Evelyn... could feel it too. The power that sustained both their kinds. Luna's blood. Sibling breeds separated by the hatred of two families.

Jorelle cleared his throat. "Constantine. Do you mind?"

"Apologies," he purred and finally stepped back out of her space.

Evelyn tore her eyes away from the vampire's again and forced herself to look at the shifters. Along with Jorelle, there was another shifter representative she didn't recognize. "Evelyn Guerrero, this is Lord Warren Bray. He is here on behalf of Lady Delana."

"It's an honor," she said, managing to keep her tone steady as she shook his hand. "But I must apologize. Unfortunately, my brother is not here to receive you. He is out on other business, and I'm not sure when he is expected back."

"Bad timing on our part," Jorelle shrugged. "Could we come in? We need to discuss some things with you, even without Aarón."

Evelyn just nodded, unsure what else she should do or say, and backed up to open the door again. Constantine's smile turned into a smirk as he stepped over the threshold. "La Chapelle has no issues allowing other breeds into his home now?" he asked with a hint of arrogant laughter in his tone.

"La Chapelle doesn't have issues with anything anymore," Evelyn answered without looking back. She pushed open the doors to the den, the room furthest away from their makeshift war room, and stepped back to let them in first. But, before following them in, she caught the arm of another female walking by. "Can I ask a huge favor?"

"Tea or coffee?" Evelyn's eyebrows shot up, and the woman explained. "Do you think Alpha La Chapelle made refreshments for his guests himself?"

"Both? To be sure? Thank you, thank you, I owe you one!"

"You don't owe me anything, Beta. I'll be back in a few moments."

The girl bounced away, and Evelyn stared at her back for a moment. No one had ever addressed her as Beta before. Technically it was true, she was Aarón's second hand... but it still felt weird. She wanted to steer the females away from being so compliant and submissive and end that cycle of abuse.

Later. She had more important things to think about right now, and she sent a frantic SOS CALL ME NOW text to Aarón before following them into the den. Jorelle and Bray had taken out documents and perched on the edge of a couch. At the same time, Constantine perused the line of expensive alcohols along the far wall. "By your words," Jorelle said slowly as Evelyn closed the doors behind her. "I assume Jean-Claude La Chapelle is dead?"

"Yes. As are the others who claimed to be alphas and many of their betas."

Jorelle looked shocked. "What happened? The last I spoke with Aarón, he was going to try to make it work with the established hierarchy!"

"He was. But then they threatened his mate. You know my brother. He is an extremely tolerant man. But the second they put their hands on the woman he loves, they signed their own death warrants."

"I see. I didn't realize he was mated. He never mentioned her."

"Aarón would prefer to keep her out of the political drama as much as possible. As would I.

"Of course. Let's move on to what we came here for," Jorelle stood up again and handed her a copy of the documents. "Evelyn, we would like to formally offer you a seat on the Ancient Counsel."

Evelyn's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and gaped at the two shifters. Slowly, she looked down at the papers to read the words on the cover of the documents that confirmed his statement. She groped for a chair before her knees gave out. Flipping to the next page, she stared at the offer letter, barely able to take in what she was reading. "Me?" she asked in barely a whisper, reading her name written all over the document instead of her brother's. "Why... me?"

"The offer is extended to either you or Aarón. But, Lord Moureaux, here, suggested that you may be the better candidate for your breed."

An instinctive growl bubbled deep in her throat as she met those red eyes again. She didn't like how she couldn't read his expression. No one looked at her the way he did—like he was looking through her to something else—and she didn't like it. "What does a vampire know about my breed?"

"Your brother's reputation and strength will be needed to bring the rest of them in line. He cannot do both," Constantine said simply.

"And you think I do not have the strength to do that?" she snarled and shot up to meet the vampire head-on, but he met her head one without even a twitch of fear.

"In the current pack structure, in order to challenge the alpha, a lycan must go through their betas. If they cannot get through the beta, they have no chance of defeating the alpha."

"We are trying to break out of that structure, not reinforce it!"

"Right now, the majority of your people see you as a weak female good for nothing but incubating spawn. A seat on the Counsel would place you above all others, including your brother. It re-establishes the matriarchy your breed was founded on." His head tilted slightly, but otherwise, there was no change to his expression. "Change is slow for all breeds, and it starts at the top. Is that not why your brother has been at the head of the unification efforts?"

He was right. Damnit. Evelyn's growling got louder in her frustration. "Give me one good reason I should even consider this if a vampire thinks it's a good idea?!" she snapped her head back at the shifters. "Vampires are the reason my breed is in this mess!"

"Nolan Wes is the reason your breed is in this mess," Constantine corrected.

The sound of his name sent chills down her spine. "So, you admit that he has been openly interfering in our politics?"

"I never denied it."

"Miss Guerrero," Lord Bray cut in. "This deal is dependent on your and Lord Moureaux's willingness to commit to peace. The feud between your family and Lord Wes must come to an end. Rest assured, if he were to take any action against you while you sit on the Counsel, you would have the entirety of the Ancient world on your side."

"But he will not be punished for all he has done before this? Will he not face trial for murdering my people? Do you really expect us to forget the reparations my family is owed?!"

The slight warmth in Constantine's gaze vanished, and the room went ice cold. He took a step closer to Evelyn, and she had to fight to keep her feet planted firmly in the face of the threat. The two shifter representatives stood as well, prepared to get between the two if needed.

"I have accompanied Lords Jorelle and Bray as a sign of good faith. In memory of your ancestor, you and your brethren do have the support of the vampiric kingdom. I do this in spite of Lord Wes's personal feelings. I will not allow him to interfere. However," his eyes flared, fangs extended, and the lights above them flickered in response to his power. "You would do well not to mistake my loyalty for weakness or hesitation. Suppose you, or your brother or any of your flea-bitten mutts, take any action against Nolan Wes in the name of retribution. In that case, you will lose the protections I have provided over the last five thousand years."

"What protections?" She scoffed. "You are as responsible for Eve's death as he is."

"I was the one who nursed Eve's dying son back to health after Nolan tried to kill him. I was the one who pulled her surviving grandchildren from the ruins of her village. I was the one who hid them in the mountains and jungles of Colombia. You think your people have seen Nolan Wes off his leash, but I assure you, girl, you have seen nothing."

The silence hung between them, and Evelyn struggled to keep a straight face. It couldn't be true. Darius would have told them if he, if Constantine fucking Moureaux, had been the one to save him and his nephews, her and Aarón's own predecessors. He had always been vague about what happened, but...

Her phone rang, and she was grateful for a reason to turn her back and storm out of the room to answer it. Thank the gods it was Aarón. "Hey, you need to get back here," she hissed, skipping the pleasantries of a greeting. "Lord Jorelle is here with another shifter counselor and the fucking vampire king. They're offering us a seat in return for peace of all things. I can't do this. I need you to come back and tell me what the hell to do!"

He didn't answer. She couldn't even hear him on the other end. Then, before she could call his name to make sure this wasn't an accidental call, her brother spoke. She almost didn't recognize his voice, as she had never heard him so cold and angry before. "Darius is dead. Do it now."

Evelyn stood frozen in the hallway, staring at the wall without really seeing it. Decades of planning, of carefully considering every single move... none of it mattered. They were going to war right here, right now, with the vampire king in the room behind her. Her hands felt numb as she tapped out the kill order and sent out the mass text. Confirmation messages were already coming in by the time she dialed Miguel's number. "It's time," she whispered. "Evacuate the non-combatants. Tell Raphaël to-"

She froze, feeling breath on the back of her neck. Turning her head just a fraction, those blood-red eyes bore into her very soul. She hadn't even heard him approach. Her stomach twisted in pure terror as she felt the cold of his magic sink ever deeper into her. Constantine wasn't like any vampire she had ever met, fought, or killed. This was the power of the first vampire. Sustained by a never-ending supply of fresh blood from the dragon that saved both his and Eve's life.

"Go on," the steadiness in his low voice was as terrifying as the look in his eyes and the chill of his power. "Tell Raphaël... what?"

Constantine knew he had the upper hand. Even if they were at the peak of the full moon, they would be idiots to think they could take on this monster and survive. The two shifters behind them looked uncomfortable but weren't making a move to stop him. Constantine was the king for better or worse, and Raphaël was a wanted criminal. A terrorist in the eyes of the vampires. Speaking his name aloud just doomed her species' one chance at freedom.

I'm going to die, she thought as he raised a hand to pluck the phone from her ear and crushed it to dust. Yet, she couldn't move. Not even to turn around to face him fully. She tried to channel her brother. The man she looked up to all her life. Her rock. What would he think of her trembling and quaking beneath the stare of this parasite?

Aarón... without her or Darius, he would be alone. Even Danika wouldn't be able to fill that hole.

Danika...

Adrenaline suddenly flooded Evelyn's veins. She got it now. The reason why Templars treated every fight like their last. Fear was a powerful tool. And no one had a stronger will to survive than the lycanthrope. Her shift came faster than it ever had before. Whirling around, she swiped deadly talons at the vampire. Constantine stepped back smoothly out of reach, grabbed her by the wrist, and flung her like a doll out the window.

She must have flown halfway down the drive before hitting the ground and rolled several times before digging her claws into the concrete and dragging herself to a stop. Then, raising her head to the sky, she howled, calling for her wolves to attack.

The sound lasted barely a second. Constantine was there again, hand at her throat, and flinging her again, this time into a lamp post. Something in her back popped ominously as she wrapped painfully around the metal beam and crumpled to the ground. Snarling rose around her, followed by the clattering of several guns being loaded and aimed.

Evelyn blinked through the fog of pain and looked around the pack neighborhood. At least a hundred vampiric soldiers, all dressed in the same body armor with the same military insignia, had come from nowhere. They formed a tight circle around her and Constantine, their guns facing out at the other werewolves. Of course, he hadn't come alone. Of course, they were ready to fight.

Constantine's foot slammed onto her spine, right over the spot that hit the pole, and she screamed. Under the pressure, her legs felt watery and weak. "I am going to give you one chance," Constantine said in a deadly calm voice. He wasn't even looking at her. Instead, he stared up at the half-moon above them, his hands in his pockets like he was out for a midnight stroll. "Reject your allegiance to Raphaël. Accept the offer from the Counsel. Live to see your people breathe as an independent and free breed."

"And if we don't?" she snarled back.

Constantine lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. "Then you are proving Nolan right. That you are savage and have no place in a civilized society. That you cannot be trusted and that you are better off in the grave with the rest of your bloodline. Believe it or not, Evelyn, I am trying to help you. But I am nothing if not a man of my word. No matter my love for your ancestor, I stand with my own kind."

Her snarl turned into another yelp when he pressed harder into her spine.

"Don't be stupid," he insisted. "The packs need you. What good does it do them if you die here?"

She stilled, hesitation and doubt creeping into her heart. Revenge was all she had been taught. It was everything she and her brother had been raised for. But the last few decades, the years she traveled with him, uniting the packs first through South America, then North America, now Europe... She had fallen in love with her people. The vision of revenge grew blurry while the needs of the lycans sharpened.

"We need... time..." she managed a quiet growl.

"You cut your timeline short when you called on your wolves to attack. You will decide now. With or without your brother. Live to be the queen your people need. Or die a worthless death. It's up to you."

Her duty to her ancestor screamed for death over compliance.

Her own sense of self-preservation begged to live.

Aarón would hate her. Darius would never forgive her, dead or alive. The elders back in Colombia would cast her out as a rogue. She would be alive, and the lycanthrope would be free. Evelyn closed her eyes and let her body go limp. She always knew freedom would come at a price. She just never expected what that cost would be.

Before she could announce her decision, a chorus of semi-automatic gun firing rang out. A couple of the vampire soldiers stumbled back but quickly recovered. Six of them stepped back, closing ranks around their king and deploying ballistic shields they were wearing on their backs. The rest of the soldiers tightened the line to make up for the personal guard, becoming a wall of black armor.

The firing stopped, and there was silence for a moment. Then the roar of five semi-trucks tearing down the street before rounding the corning into the lycan community so fast they nearly tipped over. Several spearhead wolves started barking out orders in Spanish, and the lycans scattered. They knew what was in those trucks.

Constantine turned his head to lock eyes with the first truck driver as they stepped out and strode forward. "Raphaël Laurent," his voice went from cold to subzero. He looked to the closest soldier. "Kill him. End this."

They all raised their weapons, but not a shot was fired. The sides of the trailers blew open, debris flying into the other trailers and the things inside. Curiosity and apprehension made the soldiers hesitate. Then, out of the cloud of dust, a young man stumbled forward. His skin was sallow and pale from starvation. There was a yellow-ish gleam to his eyes as they slowly looked up at the soldiers ahead of him. "Hungry..." he groaned. "I'm so... hungry..."

His eyes flared red, along with three hundred other starving vampires behind him. There was no screaming. There was no order. There was fresh blood directly in front of them, so they attacked.

This was their only purpose. This was what he asked Cyrille to do. For two hundred years, they coaxed in young humans to turn or freshly-turned vampires and drove them to heights of pleasure before flooding their systems with Cyrille's magic. The combination mutated their souls to crave that pleasure again. Pleasure they only received through blood. Then, to remove what remained of their rationality, they were only fed enough to keep them from fading. Unfeeling, uncaring, starving vampires.

"If you value your life, run. If you raise a hand to me or my men, I will kill every wolf on this compound, starting with you," Constantine spat down at Evelyn and stepped off her spine. He raised his voice to carry over the rapid gunfire. "Vampires! Eliminate the threat!"

Constantine's soldiers had already opened fire on the horde, but their doubts vanished with the order from their king. Bodies started to fall, but there were simply too many, and Raphaël's people were shooting back from the rooftops. The whole time, Raphaël stood at the center, eyes focused on Constantine while the rabid vampires ignored him.

"Your majesty, back away!" shouted one of the guards, throwing out his hand to stop him.

Constantine snarled and shoved him back. He'd let Raphaël run around for too long, causing too much damage. This stopped being fun when Raphaël started taking his tantrum seriously. It was time for this to end. "Is that it?" he snapped, throwing out his arms.

He stepped passed the line of soldiers. The rabid vampires split around him like they did for Raphaël, and he continued to walk forward, as calm as ever. Raphaël pulled his gun from his waistband, aimed carefully at the open target, and fired.

He missed.

He fired again. Again, he missed. Another shot, and another, but every time he missed. What was happening? He was a trained sniper, for fuck's sake, he didn't miss!

Click. The clip was empty, and Raphaël was frozen to the ground. Constantine stopped directly in front of him, barely a foot away. His eyes burned in a mix of power and amusement. "Come on," he taunted. "Really, Raphaël? You can do better than that. I'm right here."

Abandoning the gun, Raphaël ripped the silver knife from his belt and thrust it toward Constantine's heart. Instead of sinking into the vampire king's chest, the tip of the blade hit an invisible force and came to a stop an inch away from his flesh. "What's... happening..." he grunted in the effort, trying to force the toxic metal into his enemy's heart.

As easily as swatting a fly, Constantine batted away the knife, gripped Raphaël's throat, and slammed him into the hood of the truck. The king leaned in uncomfortably close until his nose touched Raphaël's cheek and inhaled deeply. "Where," he hissed. "Did you get dragon blood?"

"You're not the only one with a dragon up your sleeves!" Raphaël spat back, sucking gasps of air when he could.

"I can see that. But who?"

"Maybe I had a taste of your whore!"

"Did she taste as sweet for you as she does for me?" Constantine chuckled. "And when you satisfied her, did she reward you with a little story about how I was able to turn people into vampires? No, I doubt it. It took me longer than you've ever lived to learn how to please her. Dragons are picky that way. Well, let's just cut to the good part then. The combination of blood and venom turns humans into vampires and mimics the bond between dragon and kin. You are bound to me. You cannot harm me, Raphaël. None of your freaks can even touch me."

There was the sound of sheering metal as Constantine ripped a piece off the hood and ran it through Raphaël's abdomen. It wasn't enough to kill him, but it sliced through his lower spine and lodged in the engine. Everything below his naval went numb and limp. But the king wasn't done. He pushed his hand slowly into the wound, worked his way up under the ribs, and curled his fingers around the heart. Blazing red eyes watched Raphaël's expression turn from shock, to pain, to pure terror.

And he felt nothing. No excitement, no anticipation... not even relief that it was over. He held a man's heart in his hands and felt it pumping once every few seconds. As with everything else... he just felt empty. The only time he felt anything was when he was with Luna. And since Nekros came back, he'd hardly seen her.

"You have made it this far because I have allowed it. You played a good game. It's fun seeing how far the little pawn will go when they think they can harm a god," Constantine let out a heavy sigh. "But now the game is over. Hopefully, those who come next will be more fun."

"N-now," Raphaël gasped, digging his nails into the arm in his chest.

Constantine raised an eyebrow and barked out a laugh. "What do you think your creatures can do? They can't do any more harm to me than you can!"

"She... c-can..."

Constantine frowned, then realized too late what he was talking about. Evelyn roared a mixed sound of pain and anguish and was much closer than was comfortable. He tried to pull his arm free from the other vampire's chest, but Raphaël was holding him still at the awkward angle. No matter. He released Raphaël's throat, drew the gun on his own belt, turned to the lycan, and fired.

Eight silver bullets hit her square in the chest, and every one of them made her stumble, but she kept coming. Too close, she was too-

Evelyn sank her fangs into Constantine's throat, locked her jaw, and speared her claws through his heart. Slowly, the wolf shrank back into the young woman, keeping her hands buried in the vampire's chest. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at her friend. Raphaël had died with a smile on his face. He had been content in the end, knowing that he'd won. But what about her? She was never going to see her brother again. Or see Danika truly come into her own. Carmen, Miguel, Rose...

"Evie," Constantine's voice rattled in her ear, and she tilted her head to meet his eyes. They, too, were glistening with tears. "I never understood... until now..."

"Understood what?" she whimpered, struggling to keep conscious.

"Why... you stopped fighting... why you never challenged the... the Counsel's decision..." he closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hers. "I am just... so... tired..."

"It's okay," Evelyn said through her tears, not sure if she was crying for him or herself. "We can rest now."

His mouth curled up in a genuine, peaceful smile. "Tell... Luna..."

He never finished, and Evelyn wouldn't have heard it anyway. She didn't hear the outcry of the lycans, nor did she hear the screaming of the vampires as their king, their connection to the magic that made them what they were, shattered.

~

Man, I never thought I would cry for Constantine, but I bawled my eyes out when I wrote this chapter 😭

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