The call comes at two in the morning. Unknown number.
I answer on the second ring.
"Is this Nora Hart?" A woman's voice. Professional. Tired.
"Yes."
"This is Mount Sinai. June Park was brought in an hour ago. She's asking for you."
My phone drops. I'm out the door before the nurse finishes giving the room number. Dorian appears in the hallway, keys already in hand.
"Go," he says.
The drive takes twelve minutes. Dorian runs two red lights. Doesn't speak. Just drives.
The ICU smells like disinfectant and fear. White walls. Beeping machines. A nurse points me toward the end of the hall. Room 412.
June lies unconscious in the bed. Her face is bruised purple, swollen beyond recognition. Ribs wrapped in white bandages. Monitors track her vitals in green lines across black screens.
A doctor intercepts me at the door. Young. Indian. Exhausted.
"Are you family?"
"Yes." The lie comes easy.
"She's stable. But it was close." He flips through a chart. "Broken ribs punctured a lung. Severe concussion. We had to drain fluid from around her brain."
"What happened?"
"Hit by a car. Someone shoved her into traffic outside a bar. Witnesses saw a figure but couldn't give a description."
The words hit like fists. I push past him into the room. Stand at the bedside. Take June's hand. Her fingers are cold. Her pulse is weak under my thumb.
Then I smell it.
Perfume. Concentrated in her hair. Floral and sweet with something sharper underneath. I lean closer. The scent is everywhere. Sabine's scent. I know it from The Vesper. From Lucien's loft. From silk dresses and expensive skin.
I lift a section of June's hair. Find the puncture marks at the base of her skull. Two small wounds. Already healing but unmistakable.
Sabine.
She bit her before pushing her.
My vision goes red at the edges. Everything narrows to a single point. A single target.
The doctor's voice filters through the rage. He's still talking. Something about observation periods and follow-up scans.
I turn to him. Lock eyes. Let my focus sharpen the way Dorian taught me. Find the thread of his will and pull it taut.
"You saw nothing unusual," I say. My voice is calm. Level. "No bite marks. No signs of assault beyond the car accident. You'll mark her charts as a simple hit and run."
His pupils dilate. The resistance drains from his face.
"No bite marks," he repeats. "Simple hit and run."
"Good. Now leave."
He walks out without another word. The door closes behind him.
I turn. Dorian stands in the doorway watching me. Reading my face.
"I want her dead."
His jaw tightens. He steps into the room. Closes the door.
"Not without proof. There are rules."
"Fuck your rules."
I drop June's hand. Push past him into the hallway. The elevator takes too long. I hit the stairs. Take them three at a time. Burst into the parking lot.
Dorian catches my arm.
"Nora, stop."
I yank free. "I'm going to The Vesper. I'm going to find Sabine. And I'm going to end this."
He moves in front of me. Blocks my path.
"Going after her without evidence is suicide. The other vampires will turn on you. You'll be the one who broke protocol."
"I don't care."
"You should."
I stare at him. At the careful logic. The calculated restraint.
"You're right." The words taste like sand. "You're absolutely right. We should wait. Gather evidence. Follow protocol."
His shoulders drop slightly. Relief flickers across his face.
"But I'm not going to." My hands shake from the effort of standing still. "Because that's June upstairs. And Sabine put her there."
"Nora—"
"Move."
"No."
I walk around him. A cab idles at the curb, driver scrolling his phone. I yank the door open. Slide in.
"The Vesper," I tell him.
Dorian stands in the parking lot watching me go. He doesn't follow. Doesn't try to stop me again. Just watches with something like resignation.
The Vesper is packed when I arrive.
I walk through the crowd. Vampires step aside. They can smell it. The rage coming off me in waves. The violence barely leashed.
Sabine sits on the upper level surrounded by her usual entourage. Three vampires I don't recognize. All young. All beautiful. All watching her like she's the sun.
She sees me coming. Smiles.
I don't slow down. Don't stop. Walk right up to the table and slam both palms down hard enough to crack the wood. Splinters bite into my skin.
"You touched what's mine."
Sabine's smile widens. She leans back in her seat. Utterly relaxed.
"Prove it, fledgling."
The room goes quiet. Conversations die. Heads turn. Every vampire in the club is watching now.
My voice carries across the sudden silence.
"Trial by combat. Three nights from now. You and me."
Sabine laughs. The sound is bright and delighted. She stands. Walks around the table until she's face to face with me. Close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes. Close enough that our breath mingles.
"Accepted."
The crowd erupts. Voices rising. Bets being placed. The energy shifts from curiosity to bloodlust. Vampires press closer. Feeding on the violence before it even starts.
Dorian appears at the top of the stairs. Jett behind him. He takes in the scene. The challenge issued. The challenge accepted. Me and Sabine locked in each other's gaze.
His face goes carefully blank.
He walks to me. Doesn't touch. Just stands close enough that I can feel his presence. A wall at my back.
Sabine looks between us. Her smile turns sharp.
"I'll see you in three nights, kitten." She tilts her head. "I hope Dorian enjoys his last days with you."
She walks away. Her entourage follows. The crowd parts for her like water.
The music swells again. Conversations resume. Vampires return to their drinks, their feeding, their games. But the energy has changed. Something has been set in motion.
Dorian finally speaks. Voice low enough only I can hear.
"You just signed your death warrant."
"Thanks for believing in me," I spit.
I don't look at him. Keep my eyes on Sabine's retreating back. Watch her disappear into the crowd.
"Nora, you shouldn’t have—"
"Shut up and better get back to teaching me how to fight."