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His shoulder twitched beneath her grip, and a cynical laugh clawed its way out of his chest. His expression warped into something between amusement and panic, like we were the ones mistaken, like he still believed he held the upper hand. His body jerked once against Arianna’s grasp before settling into a rigid, manufactured calm. “You’re all so dramatic,” he sneered. “What’s got a bunch of purebloods so worked up about my Elguto family? Hm?” His gaze dragged across us, eyes glittering with suspicion and spite. “Afraid? Nervous?”

“You sound insane, Mark,” I said coldly.

“No Dad?” he snapped back, teeth bared. “Oh, the power’s already gone to your head, hasn’t it?” His stare locked onto mine, wild, sharp, like I’d become the villain in whatever fractured story he’d built to survive this moment. A smile tugged at his mouth, wrong and knowing. “I’m glad I told William exactly where to go if these fuckers ever came near our turf,” he said lightly. “They should be arriving… any minute now.”

That was enough.

Kleitos and Lord Draco stormed through the barrier at once, boots crunching against the snow as they closed in. They didn’t hesitate, only assessed Mark the way one evaluates a weapon that’s already been fired.

“Who did you call here?” Lord Draco thundered. “That man who sired you?” His fury was lethal, every word hurled with precision. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Are you trying to sabotage your own son?” His eyes burned. “I should kill you where you stand.”

Kleitos scoffed beside him, his voice calm but edged with warning. “His ego’s going to undo everything. Plans set in motion long before he ever imagined becoming one of us.”

Then he turned to me. His hand settled on my shoulder, warm, steady.

I hadn’t realized I was trembling until that touch anchored me.

My eyes slipped shut for half a heartbeat, drinking in the reassurance. Gods, how many times had I needed something like this growing up? Needed steadiness instead of lectures. Comfort instead of commands to be strong. Tears were weaknesses. Feelings inconveniences. Mark never carried his share, he just piled it onto my back and called it character.

And here he was again. Still hiding behind blame. Still twisting consequence into persecution. Even with immortality coursing through his veins, he hadn’t grown an inch. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Mark taunted.

From the tree line came the crunch of boots, six heavy pairs carving through waist-deep snow toward us. The wind carried their stink: burning cedar, spoiled wood… and beneath it, the copper sting of human blood, long dried but never washed away.

He was testing us. Testing me.

As the footsteps closed in, my pulse drummed in my ears. Heat flared beneath my tunic, right over the mark on my chest, until the skin itched and burned like live coal. Pressure built behind my eyes, a molten throb that tilted the world off its axis.

Arianna’s eyes widened. Even Mark flinched.

The sigil beneath my shirt began to glow, radiance bleeding through the fabric like sunlight through parchment. And in that blaze of heat, one truth burned clear: if Mark’s “family” meant us harm, I was done forgiving. The next mistake would be his last.

There were seven of us if Mark chose to stand with them. I wouldn’t stop him. If this was the path he wanted, then so be it. Inhaling slowly and I stepped closer, my gaze dragging over every feature I had once loved without question. Those big, hopeful chocolate eyes from my childhood had darkened into something murky, blackened by mania and resentment. “You’d rather stand against me,” I asked quietly, “than beside me?”

The space between us crackled with tension. I let the silence stretch, let our breaths mingle, this was the final chance. A last offering of grace. One final moment to honor a bond he had never truly earned. For a heartbeat, his face softened, like he might take it. Then stone settled back into place.

“I could ask you the same,” Mark replied, bitterness fraying his voice. “I raised you. I’ve known you your whole life. And now I’m standing here, surrounded by people who threw you away, and you look at them like they’re your salvation.” His voice cracked. “You have no idea how many nights I stayed up, obsessing over when Lord Draco would come back for you. Now you welcome him like he always belonged.” His eyes burned. “You look at me with pity. Like I’m a mistake you’re trying to forget. You forget the years I poured into you.”

I shook my head once. Final.

“No. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t walk into it with a plan.” My voice stayed steady, sharp. “But you did. You came here wanting something. You didn’t help me grow, even when you knew the truth.” My gaze hardened. “So tell me, Mark. What was the plan? What were you really hoping to gain?”

The crunch of boots on ice grew louder, skirting the edge of Arianna’s land. I couldn’t see them yet, hidden by snowbanks and heavy branches, but their scent hit the wind full force. Bitter. Metallic. Rotten beneath the surface.

Unknown vampires.

My mark answered instantly, searing hot against my chest. It pulsed like a warning. Like a plea.

Let go.

Kleitos and Lord Draco flanked me, bodies lowering into battle stance on either side. Eyes sharp. Shoulders taut. Silent, but ready. I dropped with them, scanning the ice-laced woods, every movement calculated.

Then Mark laughed again. The sound split the air, harsh, ragged. “They’re here. I feel it,” he shouted, voice fraying like a man unmoored. “William!” He called the name like a child lost in a crowded store, desperation cracking through every syllable.

Footsteps crunched behind me.

Valentina. My mother.

They crossed the threshold of Arianna’s dome, light, deliberate steps cutting through the snow. I whipped around, fury flaring. “Go back inside,” I hissed.