I should turn off the feed. Give her privacy. But I keep watching, fascinated by the small details. The way she absently tucks her hair behind her ear. The way her shoulders tense when she's thinking hard about something. The way she finally closes the notebook and sets it aside with a sigh.
"You're obsessing."
I don't turn around. Marcellus moves silently, but I felt him enter my study. He has a key.
"I'm strategizing," I say.
"You're watching her sleep."
"She's not sleeping. She's writing."
"That's somehow less concerning?" Marcellus moves to stand beside me. He glances at the screen, then back at me. "You need to rest. Dawn's coming."
"Soon."
He's quiet for a moment. Then: "Konstantin's message. You think he'll actually attack in two weeks?"
"No." I finally look away from the feed, meeting Marcellus's eyes. "I think he'll attack sooner. He wants me off-balance, reactive. The two-week timeline is bait. He'll strike within the week, probably in the next few days."
"Which means we need to accelerate everything."
"Yes." I pull up a tactical map on my tablet, showing the compound and surrounding territory. "Double the perimeter guards. I want eyes on every approach. Implement the rotation schedule we discussed; no one works more than four-hour shifts. Tired guards make mistakes."
Marcellus nods, making notes on his own device. "What aboutthe donors? If he's planning something big, he might target them directly."
"Move the high-value donors to the safe house in Decatur. The rest can shelter here if needed; we have space in the residential wing." I mark several locations on the map. "And I want Celeste trained on defensive positions. She needs to know where to fall back if we're breached."
"You really think she'll fall back?" Marcellus raises an eyebrow. "She's a fighter. She'll go toward the threat, not away from it."
He's right, and I know it. The thought makes my chest tight.
"Then make sure she knows how to survive going toward the threat," I say. "I want you taking lead on her combat training. More time with you, less with me."
Marcellus raises an eyebrow. "We've been training her together. Why the change?"
"She needs to adapt to fighting without me. You have a different style, more aggressive, less controlled. If I'm engaged elsewhere during an attack, she needs to be able to work with you seamlessly."
"That's a tactical reason." His tone suggests he doesn't believe it's the only reason.
He's right. The truth is, I can't watch her fight anymore without cataloging every vulnerability, every opening an opponent could exploit, every way she could get hurt. It's compromising my ability to train her effectively.
Marcellus studies me for a long moment. "You care about her."
"She's a valuable asset."
"You're lying to yourself again."
I turn to face him fully. "And what would you have me say?" The words come out sharper than I intend. "That I've been watching her? That I can't stop cataloging every vulnerability,every way she could get hurt? That I've spent six hundred years building walls and she's dismantling them without even trying?"
Marcellus is quiet. Then: "I'd have you say you're in trouble."
"I know." I close the security feed. "I know."
The words hang in the air between us. Heavy. True.
I've spent six hundred years building walls. Keeping everyone at a distance. Telling myself that attachment is weakness, that caring leads to pain, that love is a luxury I can't afford.
Three hundred years ago, I loved someone. Turned her to save her life. Watched her go feral. Killed her myself when she attacked innocent humans.
