Isobel had spent the last two days moving through the city like a shadow, slipping in and out of hospitals under different names, always wearing a calm smile that concealed the urgency in her chest. One after another, she collected crates of blood bags—more than a thousand in total. Each was for the newly turned vampires still locked inside the association building.
They wouldn't feed on people. Not on her watch. Not yet.
She remembered her own first drink—how the scent of blood had swallowed her mind, how her hands had trembled as instinct drowned every shred of reason. She had nearly killed someone that night. The memory still tightened her throat.
Now, standing on the balcony of the grand staircase, she leaned lazily against the rail and looked down at the figures beginning to stir.
"You guys are finally awake. Was thinking you'd stay dead the entire day," she said, her tone light but carrying the weight of authority.
