"Plan. Prepare. Figure out how to respond to Konstantin's ultimatum without getting more people killed."
"That's not what I meant." She steps closer, lowering her voice. "What are you going to do right now? Tonight? For the next few hours?"
I don't have an answer. The honest truth is that I'll probably stand here running scenarios until dawn, trying to find a path forward that doesn't end in disaster.
"I don't know," I admit.
"Then let me stay." Her hand finds mine again, a small gesture, hidden from anyone who might be watching. "You don't have to do this alone anymore."
The words crack something in my chest that I didn't know was still intact.
"Celeste."
"I know the timing is terrible. But you just found out someone you trusted for years betrayed you, and I'm not leaving you alone with that."
She's not offering passion. Not offering distraction. She's offering presence. The same thing I offered her when she was grieving Clara.
Learning from each other. Growing together.
"Okay," I say quietly. "Stay."
We stand there in the security center, hands clasped, watching the screens track the search for a man who used to be my friend.
Dawn is coming. Konstantin's deadline approaches. And everything I've built is more fragile than I knew.
But for the first time in a very long while, I don’t feel I’m facing it alone.
Chapter
Twenty-One
Dawn approaches like a held breath.
We've been in the security center for hours; Maximus coordinating the search for Cyrus, Marcellus managing compound lockdown, Julian and Nadia running communications with our remaining donors. I've done what I can, which isn't much. Mostly I watch. Learn. Try to be useful without getting in the way.
The screens show the city lightening from black to gray. Konstantin's deadline expires with the sunrise.
"Nothing," Julian reports, frustration bleeding through his professional tone. "Cyrus knows our search patterns. He's avoiding them."
"Keep looking," Maximus says. His voice is steady, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes. He hasn't rested. Neither have I.
"Sir." Nadia looks up from her console. "Dawn in four minutes. We need to seal the compound."
The blackout protocols. Vampires can't function in daylight;we go dormant whether we want to or not. The compound will lock down, and whatever happens next will have to wait until sunset.
Maximus nods. "Seal it. Skeleton crew on monitoring, humans only. Everyone else, rest while you can."
The others move to execute his orders. The screens flicker as external cameras switch to automated recording. Heavy shutters begin closing over windows throughout the compound.
I feel the pull of dawn like a weight settling into my bones. Eight months of this, and I still hate the loss of control, my body deciding when I sleep, whether I agree or not.
"You should rest," Maximus says. He's beside me suddenly, close enough that I can smell him. "Tomorrow will be worse."
"You keep saying that."
"It keeps being true."
I want to argue. Want to insist I can push through, stay awake, be useful. But the dawn pull is already dragging at me, making my thoughts sluggish.
