The key turned in the lock with a sharp metallic click that sounded like a gunshot in the apartment's silence. As the door opened, Kara sprang up from the couch, the book she'd been pretending to read slipping from her hands and hitting the floor.
Alice stepped inside.
She wasn't physically injured, but she looked like she'd aged centuries in a matter of hours. The posture that was usually proud and unyielding sagged under an invisible weight. Her eyes were red — not from thirst, but from something raw and human.
"Alice?" Kara rushed to her, cupping her face. "What happened? Did you find Natalie?"
Alice closed her eyes at Kara's warmth, as if it were the only solid thing left in a collapsing world. She covered Kara's hands with her own— cold, trembling.
"They found us, Kara," Alice whispered, her voice breaking. "The Council. They're here. In New York."
Kara's blood ran cold.
"The Council… because of me?"
"Because of everything," Alice said, opening her eyes and looking at her with infinite sadness. "And Natalie… I found her. But I was too late."
Panic rose in Kara's throat.
"What did Rose do to her?"
"Rose offered her the dark," Alice said quietly. "And Natalie accepted." She exhaled, defeated. "She isn't being held hostage, Kara. She chose to stay. She looked me in the eye and chose Rose. Said all we ever offered was pity… and Rose offered her life."
Kara staggered back like she'd been slapped. Tears welled instantly.
"I should've been there. I should've seen it sooner. I left her alone, Alice. I was so happy with you that I forgot about my best friend."
"This isn't your fault," Alice said, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Rose's poison is sweet and Natalie was vulnerable." She held her closer. "But now we're facing something bigger. The Messenger was there."
They sank onto the couch. Alice never let go of Kara's hand, tracing the lines of her palm like she was trying to memorize them.
"You need to understand what we're up against," Alice said, her voice dropping into something darker, heavier. "The Council isn't just a group of ancient vampires sitting in some stone castle. They're the invisible framework of the world."
Kara wiped her tears, listening.
"What do you mean?"
"They don't just rule the night," Alice said, glancing out the window at the glowing New York skyline. "They're woven into the day. Think about the banks that fund wars. The pharmaceutical companies that sit on cures. The senators who never seem to age — or who 'die' and are replaced by identical sons. The Council has its hands in everything. They keep order with money, influence, and fear."
She turned back to Kara.
"It's a mafia that's thousands of years old. They make sure humanity keeps growing, healthy, ignorant — because humans are livestock. And anyone who threatens to expose the farm… gets erased."
Kara shivered as the scope of it hit her.
"And that's why…" she began.
"Yes," Alice said softly. "That's why I pushed you away at first. Not because I didn't want you—but because loving you put a target on your back. I tried to keep you out of the machine, Kara. I failed. I was selfish."
Alice dropped her head, guilt crushing her.
"I should've walked away that first day in the library. I should've let you live a normal, safe life — far from trials and death sentences."
Kara didn't let her finish.
In a sudden, fierce motion, she grabbed Alice's chin and forced her to look up.
"Don't you dare say that."
Before Alice could protest, Kara kissed her.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't comforting. It was fire.
Kara crashed into Alice's mouth with desperate intensity, biting her lower lip, grabbing the hair at the back of her neck. It was a claim.
Alice gasped, caught off guard, then gave in. Fear melted into heat. She pulled Kara into her lap, gripping her waist possessively. Their tongues met in a frantic, living rhythm, urgent, warm, real.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless, foreheads touching, Kara looked straight into Alice's eyes.
"I don't want a normal life without you," Kara said firmly. "I'd rather face danger with you than be safe alone. We'll face this. Together."
Alice cupped Kara's face, awe and love flooding her dead heart.
"Together," Alice echoed. "The Messenger said a letter will arrive in the morning. The official summons. We won't run tonight. We'll wait. And when that letter comes, we'll go to them and we'll fight for our right to exist."
Far from there, the city fell quiet.
A black car glided along empty roads on the outskirts of New York, stopping in front of an isolated house surrounded by tall trees.
Ruby's refuge.
Rose stepped out and opened the passenger door for Natalie. The girl was pale and shaking, the high from the club fading into a deep, painful exhaustion.
Rose guided her inside with a gentleness that clashed sharply with the violence of her actions hours earlier. Ruby was already there, preparing the space, saying nothing — feeling the tension thick in the air.
Rose led Natalie to a guest room. She helped her kick off her heavy boots and laid her down on the soft bed.
"You were brave tonight," Rose said, sitting on the edge of the mattress and brushing damp hair from Natalie's forehead.
Natalie caught Rose's wrist. Her eyes were glassy, but there was a sharp clarity behind them.
"Alice… she looked at me like I was disgusting."
"She looked at you like she was afraid," Rose corrected softly. "Alice fears what she can't control. And tonight, you proved you can't be controlled."
"I don't want to go back to her," Natalie whispered, her voice breaking as sleep pulled at her. "I want to stay with you. You don't make me feel small."
Something twisted in Rose's chest — an unfamiliar pressure she hadn't felt in centuries. She'd always used people as tools or toys.
But Natalie had chosen her.
Even after seeing the monster.
"Sleep, little one," Rose murmured. "I'll be here when you wake up."
Natalie slipped into unconsciousness.
Rose stayed, watching the slow rise and fall of the girl's chest. The house was silent, but her mind was not.
She thought of Alice — her sister's fury, the real fear she'd seen in her eyes when the Council was mentioned.
For the first time in a very long time, Rose didn't feel victorious.
She felt the weight of consequences.
She looked at Natalie, vulnerable and sleeping in her bed, then at the window, where the full moon lit the forest beyond.
"What have we done?" Rose whispered to the cold glass.
She knew a war was coming.
And as she stared at the girl she had just corrupted, Rose realized — with a chill — that this time, she had something to lose.