Cassian's POV
The great hall was a slaughterhouse. The polished stone floors were already slick with blood, crimson and black pooling together until you couldn't tell hunter from vampire. The clash of steel and the hiss of fangs filled the air, drowning out even the cries of the dying.
I swung my blade in a wide arc, cleaving through a hunter who had lunged too close. His body collapsed at my feet, twitching, and I barely had a second to brace as two more charged. Their axes rose high, gleaming with silver edges that burned at the sight alone.
I ducked, muscles screaming, and drove my dagger up into one man's ribs, wrenching it free just in time to parry the other's strike. His blade nicked my cheek, searing like fire, but pain was fuel. I grabbed him by the throat, slammed him into a pillar, and sank my fangs deep until the spray of blood ran hot down my throat.
The moment his body dropped, another hunter took his place. They kept coming. Wave after wave.
