Chapter 21 · Purge Night

The council chamber smelled like old blood and older money. Vivian could taste both on her tongue as she walked in behind Lucas, her hand locked around his arm like they were still playing bride and groom. The marble floor was cold enough to feel through her heels. Every elder in the room turned to look at them, and none of them were smiling.

She'd had twelve hours to figure out how to get that ledger onto the floor before Elliot started killing people. Twelve hours, and the best plan she had was walk in and don't die.

Cyrus sat at the head of the oval table, fingers steepled like he was posing for a portrait. Elliot stood three feet to his right, arms crossed, face blank. The execution blade—silver-edged, six feet long—leaned against the wall behind him. Vivian made herself look at it. Made herself not look away.

"Lord Croft," Cyrus said. His voice filled the room without getting louder. "And the bride. How lovely. We were just discussing your absence last week."

Lucas didn't let go of her arm. "I was dealing with a blood poisoning attempt in my own home. I assumed the council would understand.