Page 98 of Let Sleeping Vampires Lie

It would have fooled anyone else.

Not us.

“This is the place,” I said quietly.

“Yes.”

A guard stepped into view as the limo parked. He wore a black suit that hid reinforced plating along his chest and arms. His eyes were wrong. Too sharp. Too smooth. Enhanced.

He leaned toward the window and scanned the verification code on my phone. The device in his hand glowed green.

“Ms. James,” he said. “Welcome.”

Con stepped out first, then helped me from the vehicle. The guard’s gaze slid over me, taking in the dress, the posture, the confidence.

He did not know I could kill him in two seconds.

Perfect.

Inside, the warehouse was unrecognizable.

The exterior was dull industrial brick. The interior was an opulent contradiction. Crystal chandeliers. Velvet wall hangings. Marble floors. Artifacts displayed behind glass with spell-like energy fields.

Buyers moved through the space in tailored attire. I recognized faces. Criminals who trafficked in power. Sorcerers who bought cursed relics like trinkets. Vampires who built fortunes through blood and betrayal.

The air smelled of money and danger.

Con stayed close behind me, every inch of him coiled and ready even in a suit that made him look carved from shadow.

As we walked deeper into the main floor, something cold brushed the back of my neck.

Not wind.

Not magic.

Something worse.

Presence.

Familiar and unwelcome.

My steps slowed.

Con noticed.

“What is it?” he murmured.

I scanned the crowd, the balconies, the curtained private boxes above. I did not see him. But I felt him.

Valerian.

He was here.

His presence seeped through the crowd like oil through water. It brushed my spine, slithered across my nerves, whispered in the places he once scarred.

I forced myself to breathe evenly.

“He is close,” I whispered.