Chapter 19 · Reserved Blood

The ledger's in my hands when the door blows open.

Not unlocked. Not pushed. The iron buckles inward like something hit it from the outside with the force of a siege engine. The sound rips through the cell—metal screaming, stone cracking—and I'm already on my feet, ledger pressed against my ribs, heart trying to punch through bone.

A figure steps through the smoke.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Moving wrong—too smooth, like his joints are oiled, like gravity doesn't pull at him the same way it pulls at everyone else. His face is in shadow but I see his hands. Clawed. Not vampire claws. These are thicker, dark as burnt iron, and they're still dripping.

Not water.

"Vivi."

The air goes out of my lungs.

That voice. I know that voice. I used to hear it every morning across the breakfast table, every night when he'd knock on my door and ask if I wanted to sneak down to the kitchens for leftover cake.