"I'm moving to the northern gothic castle."

I announced it at the breakfast table.

Lucius froze, his knife hovering over a slab of blood-seared steak.

His brow furrowed—the tell-tale sign of a displeased Lord.

"Why? The manor has the best blood-servants and physicians."

"My bloodline is restless," I said, letting a hint of fragility into my eyes. "It's too loud here. Lilith's piano playing, all the parties… I'm worried it's not good for the heir."

The word "heir" changed everything.

It was the most important piece in his game—the scapegoat.

"Very well," he said, his tone softening. He even placed his hand over mine, the cold of his skin making me sick. "You are my Lady, Rhiannon. You require absolute tranquility. I'll have a guard detail escort you."

He was lying.

I saw the relief in his eyes.

Sending me away meant he could be with Lilith without any pretense.

He wouldn't have to worry about me hearing her moans from the room next door.

I moved into the northern castle.

It was remote, surrounded by a dense, dark forest. The perfect hiding place, and the perfect training ground.

I ordered the blood-servants to spray high-concentration scent-blockers around the castle grounds.

The excuse: my pregnancy made me hypersensitive to smells.

The truth: I needed to cover up the fact that I didn't smell like milk and honey.

The next few months were a grotesque one-woman show.

Lucius visited every fortnight, playing the part of the "devoted mate."

But his gifts betrayed him.

For me, cheap blood-plasma products.

But according to the Covenant blood bank records I'd hacked, he'd been withdrawing "First Blood."

A sacred relic that could bring the dying back from the brink of final death.

Its destination? Lilith's apartment, of course.

It was clear the werewolf mongrel was draining the life from her. Lilith was weakening fast.

Staring at the massive expenditure on the screen, I thought of my last life.

I had been on the verge of death, begging him for a single drop of First Blood.

What did he say then?

"It's a strategic reserve for the Covenant. It cannot be wasted on a woman who might be carrying another's bastard."

And now, he was giving it freely to the woman carrying a monster.

I sneered and finished painting the final blood-rune.

A single drop of my essence fell from my fingertip, sinking into the complex circle drawn on the floor with ancient dust.

My body was lighter, my skin paler, almost translucent. But a cold, ancient power was surging through my veins once more.

I was once the Covenant's deadliest Bloodsworn Champion, the only one with the right to challenge the Lord's seat.

For Lucius, I had sheathed my fangs and played the part of a graceful vampire Lady.

Now, the predator I once was had finally awakened.

"My Lady, you're looking radiant these days," said Marcus, the Covenant's physician, during a routine check-up.

He was an old, experienced vampire with sharp eyes.

"Thank you," I replied coldly.

Marcus hesitated, then lowered his voice. "I saw the Lord take Lady Lilith to the Sacred Springs again yesterday. The whispers in the Covenant… they say Lilith is the one carrying the true pureblood heir, and that you…"

He trailed off, his eyes full of pity.

"My Lady, your mother once did me a great service. I only trust what I see. If you ever need anything, I will always be on your side."

He thought I was the poor, clueless wife.

I stood up from the ritual circle, pulling on a silk robe to cover my illusory belly.

"Let them talk, Marcus," I said, picking up a goblet of blood wine. "Lucius is the Lord. He knows what he's doing. As long as my heir is born safely, I am content."

Marcus looked like he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue.

If he knew what I was really planning, his heart would probably stop on the spot and send him into torpor.

I didn't care about Lucius and Lilith.

In fact, his obsession with her was my greatest advantage. It kept him too distracted to check on me with his heightened Lord's senses.

Otherwise, even with the amulet, his Lord's senses might have pierced the illusion and discovered the truth: the heir in my womb was nothing but a phantom.

Six months flew by.

As my "due date" approached, Lilith's desperation became palpable.

That night, the castle doors burst open.

Lucius stormed in, drenched from the rain, his face pale and radiating a sick, frantic energy.

He was in a hurry.

My informant had told me Lilith's water had broken half an hour ago.

The half-breed monster was tearing her womb apart, the pain was killing her.

Lucius needed my "heir" to swap with hers. Now.

"Rhiannon!" Lucius strode into the bedroom, holding a crystal goblet.

The liquid inside was an eerie dark red and gave off a cold vapor.

"My Rhiannon, I know you haven't been well," he said, his voice trembling—not with concern, but with nerves. "Drink this," he urged. "It will ensure our heir has the strongest bloodline."

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him.

My sense of smell was sharper than ever.

It wasn't a tonic.

It was a mixture of Powdered Holy Light, high-concentration birthing inducers, and Quietus Flower.

It would force violent contractions in a vampire and leave her weak and helpless afterward—a puppet in his hands.

Last time, I drank it. I passed out on the ritual bed, letting him swap my child.

“It’s for the heir, right?” I purred, taking the goblet.

My fingers traced its cold rim, a silent promise of the chill to come.

He swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the cup as if it held his salvation.

“Yes,” he croaked. “For our heir. Drink it. Fulfill your purpose.”

His fear was a palpable stench in the air, thicker than the storm outside.

Without me, his precious Lilith was dead.

I raised the goblet, the acrid smell of betrayal stinging my nostrils.

I met his gaze over the rim, and for a split second, I saw it: the raw, ugly flash of triumph in his eyes.

He wanted this. He wanted me weak and broken.

“Lucius,” I repeated, my voice a blade wrapped in silk. “Are you sure this is for our heir?”

Lucius's pupils contracted. The hand holding the goblet trembled almost imperceptibly.

He masked it quickly, fear replaced by the typical, offended pride of a Lord.

"Rhiannon, what is that look?" he snarled, using his aura to suppress his own guilt. "I am your mate! Your Lord! Would I harm you? Would I harm my own heir?"

I could smell the reek of desperation on him.

Mate?

I laughed silently.

In my last life, this "fated mate" was the one who plunged the blessed silver dagger into my heart.

The one who hurt me most was never my enemy.

It was you, Lucius.

But I didn't call his bluff.

I knew this poison wouldn't cause permanent harm to a healthy vampire.

It would only induce severe, muscle-tearing cramps.

The perfect prop for my performance.

"Of course not," I said softly. "I'm just nervous."

I tilted my head back and drank it all.

Lucius let out a breath of relief, a savage victory in his eyes.

The poison worked faster than I expected.

Five minutes later, a violent, burning cramp seized my abdomen.

The pain was real. A cold sweat broke out across my skin, soaking my silk nightgown.

I collapsed onto the sofa, letting out a pained groan. "Ah… it hurts…"

Just then, the color drained from Lucius's face.

He clutched his temples—a sign of the old emotional link.

"Damn it! Lilith's in labor too!"

He roared in panic, completely forgetting about me writhing in "agony," and dematerialized into a black mist, rushing out of the castle.

The rain was coming down in sheets.

Lucius’s car tore out of the castle like a beast. In the back seat, drenched, was Lilith.

We'd picked her up.

Her screams nearly shattered the car windows.

"Lucius! Save me! Something is clawing at me from the inside!" She dug her nails deep into his arm. "It hurts! Our baby… we're going to die!"

"Don't be afraid, Lilith, don't be afraid!" Lucius yelled, one hand on the wheel, turning to soothe her, his eyes filled with heartbreak. "I'm here! I swear I would trade my immortal life for yours and the child's!"

And what about me?

I was curled up in the corner of the spacious back seat, pretending to be pale with pain. Lucius didn't even glance at me.

I was just cargo he’d thrown in the back.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the Covenant's private clinic.

Blood-servants were already waiting.

"Quick! Get Lilith first! She's critical!" Lucius roared, shoving away a servant who rushed to help me.

He swept Lilith into his arms and bolted for the emergency entrance.

As she moaned weakly in his embrace, Lilith shot me a triumphant smirk over his shoulder.

I was left alone in the downpour.

The icy rain lashed down, plastering my hair to my face, but I felt nothing.

This cold was a pale imitation of the one that had settled in my soul the day he killed me.

A few minutes later, two servants finally rushed out with a wheelchair. "My Lady, hold on!"

I was wheeled into the Ritual Chamber.

The moment the cold steel door slammed shut, my act was over.

Standing before the ritual table was my physician—Marcus.

He had already sent everyone else away, leaving only his two most trusted servants.

Our eyes met.

Marcus glanced at my swollen belly, his expression a mix of awe and fear.

He gave a silent, firm nod.

Everything was in place.

The minutes ticked by.

The thunder outside masked all the dirty deeds taking place.

Hours later, in the dead of night.

My ward was silent except for the steady beep… beep… of a heart monitor.

I lay in bed, eyes closed, breathing evenly, as if I had passed out from "ritual exhaustion."

But every muscle in my body was coiled, my senses on high alert.

The lock clicked. Someone slipped in.

An instant, nauseating stench hit me.

Wet earth, wild beast, and old blood.

The reek of a werewolf.

The footsteps were light and hesitant, filled with guilt, as they approached my bed.

It was Lucius.

He was carrying a tightly wrapped bundle.

Even through the thick blanket, I could hear a sound that was half-growl, half-whimper.

It was the monster Lilith had birthed.

Lucius held his breath, tiptoeing to my bedside.

His hands were trembling as he prepared to swap this reeking infant for the pureblood heir that never existed.

He leaned in, the monster's face just inches from my neck.

In that exact moment…

My eyes snapped open.

In the dim glow of the nightlight, my gaze, sharp and cold, locked onto his terrified, twisted face.

"My Lord," my voice cut through the darkness. "What are you doing?"

My voice made Lucius jolt so hard he almost dropped the bundle.

The movement angered the thing in his arms.

The infant let out a piercing sound, something between a cry and a snarl.

It wasn't the sound of a vampire fledgling, but something far more feral.

A corner of the blanket came loose. I saw a pair of eyes flash with a wild, gold light.

And two small, sharp canines.

The half-breed mongrel was starving, eager to sink its teeth into the nearest living thing.

Lucius's expression shifted rapidly—from terror to guilt, and finally, to cold resolve.

He took a sharp step back and threw the snarling monster onto my bed!

"Gods! Rhiannon!"

Lucius let out a deafening roar, his performance hitting its climax. "Look what you've done! You've birthed… a monster!"

The creature landed at my feet and immediately began crawling toward me, trying to get a taste of my blood.

I calmly lifted my foot and pinned it to the sheets by its chest with the tip of my boot, immobilizing it.

"Nice acting, my Lord," I said softly.

But my voice was drowned out.

The door burst open.

Lilith, who had been waiting outside, rushed in.

She was in a thin hospital gown, looking pale and weak, but her voice was surprisingly loud.

"What is it? Lucius, what's happened?"

Lilith ran to the bedside and let out a theatrical scream at the sight of the half-breed pinned under my foot.

She clapped a hand over her mouth as fake blood-tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Oh, by the First Sire… Lady Rhiannon…"

She pointed a trembling finger at me, her eyes full of fake disbelief and hurt. "How could you? For power… you betrayed our kind and consorted with those filthy werewolves?"

The hallway was instantly crowded.

Physicians, servants, and several Covenant Elders and Knights.

It was obvious they had all been invited by Lilith to watch this "show."

Everyone saw the canine-toothed infant struggling and snarling at my feet.

Shock.

Then, overwhelming fury.

"A werewolf mongrel!"

"We're bleeding for the Covenant on the front lines, and our Lady is sleeping with the enemy behind our backs!"

"Kill the monster! Kill the traitor!" The crowd was a sea of rage.

The Knights' eyes glowed red, low growls rumbling in their chests.

In a time of war, there is no greater treason than tainting the bloodline.

Lucius stood in the center of it all, his back ramrod straight.

He looked at me with a mask of anguish, even managing to squeeze out a few blood-tears.

"Rhiannon, I loved you, I trusted you… and you bring me this shame."

He took a deep breath, his Lord's aura washing over the room, silencing the chaos.

"As Lord of the Shadow-Crest Covenant, I will not tolerate this betrayal that defiles our blood!"

Lucius raised his right hand, pointing his finger at my nose, his voice cold and merciless.

"I hereby strip Rhiannon of all her titles! She is no longer our Lady! She is no longer under the protection of this Covenant!"

Lilith, hiding behind him with a smirk on her lips, was still crying out, "Lucius, she must have been confused… can't you spare her?"

"Traitors don't deserve to live!" Lucius cut her off righteously, then roared at the doorway, "Temple Knights! Seize this traitor and throw her into the Sun-Scorched Dungeon!"

The death sentence was passed.

Everyone expected me to cry, to beg.

I didn't.

I sat on the bed, my foot still pinning Lilith's monster.

Then, Lilith's gaze darted to my bed.

To the slight bulge under the covers.

As if she realized her little charade was missing something.

A new mother needed a baby in her arms.

The perfect prop for a devastating accusation.

She sucked in a breath, her face contorting into a perfect mask of victimhood.

"No! That under the blankets is my child!" Lilith shrieked, her voice hoarse with a chillingly real panic.

She pointed a trembling finger at me, her performance reaching its peak, scarlet tears streaming down her face.

"She took my baby! Lucius! She swapped our children! She's jealous that I gave you a pureblood heir!"

The sudden accusation stunned everyone into silence.

"She's hiding him! Give me back my son!"

Like a madwoman, Lilith lunged for my bed. She shoved past the servants trying to stop her and scrambled for the bundle under the sheets, her hands reaching out in desperation.

"My heir…" she murmured, her hands closing around the swaddled form.

But the moment she lifted the bundle—

She froze.