I tell them about her absolute freakout when she realized Ares and I were together. How she’d rejected me. How our friendship is utterly ruined and over.
“Sounds like this woman really hates vampires,” Sysco says as he raises an eyebrow.
“But she’s just some woman,” I say as I shake my head. “It doesn’t even make sense that she could do this.”
But something prickles at the back of my scalp. I shove it down, though. There’s just no way. Ophelia is just a person. There’s no way she could be responsible.
“You’re sure?” Sysco asks, staring at me.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” I shake my head, dismissing it. “But I’ll keep thinking about it, see if I can think who else Ares talked to that day.”
Sysco doesn’t seem convinced, but he looks away from me and back to the board. “I can’t think of anyone else Ares might have taken out. Seems pretty clear it’s only been a week since whatever it was happened to Ares. I think, for now, we hire some people to look for him. Probably not the smartest thing for me or you to go looking for him, Harry.”
“I know three PIs,” Harry says, raising an eyebrow at Sysco’s idea, like he’s surprised with Sysco’s solution but agrees with the plan. “And two bounty hunters. I’ll give them a call.”
“I only know one PI,” Sysco confirms. “But I know some… other people who tend to be good at tracking down individuals.”
What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’ve always kind of thought Sysco looked like he came from the wrong side of the tracks, but he kind of confirms it a little with that statement.
“Well, I don’t know anyone like that,” I say, rolling my eyes at these ridiculous billionaires and all the money they can throw around. “But I don’t think I’m the kind of vampire Ares is tryingto track down, so I’m going looking for him myself. Harry, can you text me the address of the vault in case I find him?”
Harry nods, his arms still crossed over his chest.
“Anything else?” I ask, feeling myself reaching my mental limit with all of this. Even though there’s so much more room in my brain right now, I feel… burned out. Overdone. I need two seconds to breathe by myself.
“Not sure there’s much more we can do at the moment,” Harry concludes. “We just need to find Ares. And keep thinking of how this might have happened to him.”
“I will,” I nod affirmatively. I rise from the couch and take three steps toward the elevator. “Thank you, both of you, for everything you’re doing. Thank you for trusting me, for your understanding.”
“We got you, Lana,” Sysco says with a small smile. “Glad to have you officially on the team.”
“It just makes sense, Lana,” Harry adds, and nothing in his expression says he’s lying.
I give them one nod and step into the elevator.
Chapter 4
The penthouse is eerily silent when I step inside. The space feels familiar but distant, like stepping into a memory instead of reality. Nothing has changed—but I have.
I fucking hate that I know I’m by myself. That Ares isn’t here. That once again, I’m on my own. I push the thoughts aside. If I don’t, I just might start drowning.
Now that I’m alone, now that the damn world has paused for two seconds, I feel… me.
And everything feels so damn different.
I walk slowly through the living room, dragging my fingers along the leather of the couch, the polished edge of the kitchen counter. Everything feels changed. More tangible. I can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator, the shift of air in the vents, the distant buzz of traffic from below. My senses stretch out, reaching further than they ever have before, like I can feel the heartbeat of the entire city.
I make my way to the bedroom, my movements smooth, effortless. Too easy. There’s no sluggishness, no tension, just raw energy coiled beneath my skin, waiting to be unleashed. My body feels primed, honed to perfection.
And yet, it still doesn’t feel real.
I step into the bathroom and, standing in front of the mirror, I take myself in.
I don’t look that different at first glance. My reflection stares back at me with the same sharp eyes, the same dark hair tumbling around my shoulders. But then I look closer. My skin isflawless, every scar, every mark I’ve carried for years wiped away like they never existed. I run my fingers over my forearm, expecting the familiar ridge of an old accident. Nothing. Just smooth, untouched flesh. I’m only 24, so I don’t really have any wrinkles yet, but my entire face is so damn smooth I almost look like glass.
My muscles are subtly more defined, not bulky, but sculpted like my body has been streamlined for power. I’ve always been fit, but this is something… more.
And then, there are my teeth.
