The betrayal among us

 (Chapter 37:Lorenzo's Pov) 

 I smelled the blood before I saw the letter.

 The scent was faint but unmistakable—old iron laced with something darker, something wrong. It clung to the edges of the small parchment, staining the fragile fibers like a wound that refused to heal.

The old woman was gone.

 I stood in the doorway of her abandoned chamber, the dim candlelight flickering against the stone walls. The place was eerily silent, empty. No signs of struggle, no broken furniture—just that damn letter, folded neatly on the wooden table, as if she had left it willingly.

 But the blood told another story.

 I unfolded the parchment, my fingers barely trembling. I had seen enough betrayals, enough horrors, to know better than to hope for anything less than the worst.

 "She was never meant to stay. The past will always claim what belongs to it. Do not look for me. You will not find me."

 There was no signature. No seal. Just words soaked in dried blood.

A calculated message.

A warning.

A lie.

 My jaw tightened as I read it again. The old woman had been more than a shelter for Mira—she had been a guide, an anchor to her past. And now, she was gone.

 I exhaled slowly, pushing down the growing rage twisting inside me.

 Mira stood behind me, silent, waiting. When I turned, her eyes were unreadable, but I saw the questions burning there.

"She didn't leave willingly," I said.

 Mira's lips parted slightly, as if she had already known but wanted me to deny it. When I didn't, she straightened her shoulders. "Then she was taken."

 I nodded. "Or she was never on our side to begin with."

 Mira flinched. Just barely, but I caught it.

 I stepped closer. "She knew too much, Mira. About you. About your past. If she was working with the Abyss Order, we should have seen the signs."

 Mira shook her head. "She helped me."

 I didn't argue, but I didn't agree either. Help didn't always mean loyalty.

 I glanced back at the letter, at the way the blood had dried in smudged streaks, as if the writer had hesitated. If she had been forced to leave, why would they let her write a message at all?

 No, this wasn't about escape.

 This was about misdirection.

 I folded the letter and slid it into my coat. "I'll look into it."

 Mira's brows furrowed. "Alone?"

 I met her gaze. "I need to check something first."

 She didn't argue, but I could tell she wanted to. Instead, she gave a small nod, the worry in her eyes something she wasn't ready to say aloud.

 I left the chamber without another word, the weight of suspicion pressing heavy against my chest.

 And I knew exactly where to start.

 The vampire citadel was eerily quiet when I arrived. It was always like this in the hours before dawn—a fortress bathed in shadows, the air thick with the scent of old stone and older blood.

 The council chambers were empty, but I wasn't looking for them.

 I was looking for him.

 Cassian.

 I found him where I expected—on the upper terrace, overlooking the darkened city below. He turned when he sensed my presence, his sharp features illuminated by the distant glow of torches.

 "Lorenzo," he greeted, his voice smooth, as if we were nothing more than two old friends meeting by chance.

 I wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. "How long have you been feeding information to Callidus?"

Cassian stilled.

 The silence stretched, long and suffocating.

 Then, he smirked. "You should be careful with accusations like that."

 I didn't blink. "I don't make accusations. I state facts."

 Cassian exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You always were quick to turn on your own."

 I took a slow step closer. "I don't turn on my own. I turn on traitors."

 His eyes darkened. "And what proof do you have?"

 I reached into my coat and tossed the letter onto the stone railing between us. The bloodstains stood stark against the pale parchment.

 Cassian barely glanced at it. "This proves nothing."

 "No?" I tilted my head. "Then why did you flinch the second you saw it?"

His jaw tightened.

 I knew Cassian. I had fought beside him, bled beside him. And now, I was watching him fall apart under my gaze.

 "You underestimated me," I said softly. "That was your first mistake."

 His smirk returned, but it was weaker this time. "And my second?"

 I didn't hesitate. "Letting me find out."

 Faster than breath, I had him by the throat, slamming him against the cold stone wall. He gasped, not out of pain but surprise. He had expected hesitation.

 He had forgotten who I was.

 "Tell me," I said, voice low, dangerous. "Did Callidus promise you something? Power? Immunity? Or did you simply want me dead?"

 Cassian's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "You think this war is so simple, Lorenzo?"

 I tightened my grip. "I think it ends with you telling me what I need to know."

His smirk faded. And for the first time, there was something close to regret in his eyes.

"He's coming," Cassian whispered.

 A chill ran down my spine. "Who?"

 Cassian's gaze locked onto mine. "The one who started all of this. The one who made her what she was before."

My breath stalled.

 Before I could speak, a sudden gust of unnatural wind howled through the terrace, carrying with it a thick scent of decay.

 Cassian's body convulsed, his eyes rolling back as dark veins spread across his skin.

And then, before my grip could tighten, his body crumbled—ash scattering into the night like whispers lost in the wind.

 I stood frozen, my hands still reaching for something that no longer existed.

No blood. No body.

Just emptiness.

And a warning.

He's coming.

The war wasn't just against Callidus anymore.

Something older, something far worse, had just entered the game.