Ares and I glance at each other, and though it’s unspoken, I see it in his eyes. A moment of gratitude. It’s me and him. There hasn’t been a moment of harshness or betrayal. There’s never been anything that’s made me question him. He’s never once hurt me.
He is my person from now until time ceases.
And I’m so fucking grateful that I’ve never had to go through the kind of heartache Juliet has.
As Ares offers me a small smile, a look in his eyes that just screamsI love you, I think maybe the same thoughts are rolling through his head.
Juliet takes in a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. I glance down at the journal still clutched in my hand, and that’s when I notice it.
There’s one last page. The ink is different. The paper less stained, the scrawl more controlled. It isn’t Thaddeus’ frantic, blood-rushed handwriting.
This is neater. Sharper. Calculated.
“There’s one more entry,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. It comes out hoarse, like it’s scraped over gravel. “Guys, there’s one more entry!”
The atmosphere shifts instantly. Tension thickens in the air like smoke.
I clear my throat and begin to read.
“Entry by James St. Claire – August 23
I’ve read every word he left behind. Thaddeus St. Claire. My father’s uncle. A fanatic, yes—but he wasn’t wrong. The Blood Father was left to rot with no respect. Left to be forgotten.
It took me years. Decades. I tracked his steps through rumors, dust, and dead ends. I followed him through the web of history, and eventually, the truth clawed its way up from the dirt.
I narrowed down the buildings. There were five under construction in that year. And I’ve narrowed it down to only two possibilities. I tracked down the blueprints. And then I tracked down the owners.
Ares Hunt. Augustus Lonan.
Father and son.
Now, I’ve made sure I have access to both.
Thaddeus failed because he only had rumors to go on. Because he ran out of time.
I won’t.
I found a necromancer before I even came searching for the bones.
Markus arrives tomorrow.
The rightful ruler of vampires sleeps beneath our feet.
Soon, he will rise.”
I close the journal softly.
No one says a word. The only sound is the faint hum of the city bleeding in through the penthouse windows.
Juliet is the one to break the silence.
Her voice is low. Distant. “He did it.”
Roman looks over at her, brow furrowed.
She clarifies, still stunned. “James accomplished what Thaddeus couldn’t. He actually found a necromancer.”
Ares rises slowly to his feet. His jaw is tight, the veins in his forearms standing out like cords, he’s wound so tight.
