Chapter 33 Domestic Moments
Lyra's POV
The knife stops an inch from my throat.
Seraphine freezes, her red eyes going wide. She staggers backward, dropping the blade. Her hand flies to her chest, pressing against something invisible.
"What—" She gasps like she can't breathe. "What is this?"
Kaelen is on his feet instantly, moving between me and her. "The sanctuary oath. Councilor Ashcroft placed these humans under her protection. Any vampire who harms them suffers the same wound."
"That's impossible. I'm not bound by Council oaths—"
"You are if you're in Council territory." His voice is cold steel. "And this property falls under Council jurisdiction. The moment you tried to hurt her, the oath activated."
Seraphine's beautiful face twists with rage. She lunges at Kaelen instead, but he's ready. They collide in a blur of inhuman speed, crashing through the bedroom wall into the hallway.
"Stella, run!" I grab my sister's hand and pull her toward the window. We're on the second floor, but it's better than staying here.
Behind us, Kaelen and Seraphine tear each other apart. The sounds are horrifying—snarling, breaking bones, furniture splintering.
"She's stronger than him," Stella whispers, terrified.
She's right. Through the bond, I feel Kaelen's pain as Seraphine lands blow after blow. He's fighting hard, but she's winning.
"We have to help him," I say.
"How? We're human!"
Good question. I look around desperately for a weapon, anything—and my eyes land on the lamp. Silver base. Vampires hate silver.
I rip the cord from the wall and run back into the hallway. Seraphine has Kaelen pinned against the floor, her hands around his throat. His face is turning dark, veins standing out.
I swing the lamp with everything I have.
It connects with Seraphine's skull with a satisfying crack. She shrieks and releases Kaelen, whirling toward me with murder in her eyes.
"You dare—"
Kaelen tackles her from behind. They crash down the stairs in a tangle of limbs. I hear bones breaking—his or hers, I can't tell.
Then silence.
"Kaelen?" I call down the stairs.
No answer.
My heart stops. Through the bond, I feel... nothing. Just emptiness where his presence should be.
"No," I whisper. "No, no, no—"
I run down the stairs, Stella right behind me. At the bottom, I find them both lying motionless in a pool of blood. Kaelen's eyes are closed. Seraphine isn't moving either.
"Is he dead?" Stella asks in a small voice.
"Vampires don't die easily." But my hands shake as I kneel beside him. "Kaelen? Can you hear me?"
His eyes flutter open—mercury, not crimson. He's alive.
"Seraphine?" he croaks.
I look at the woman. There's a jagged piece of wooden stair rail sticking through her chest. Right where her heart should be.
"I think she's dead. For real this time."
Kaelen sits up slowly, wincing. "No. She's not. Look at the wood—it missed her heart by inches. She's just unconscious."
"Then we need to finish this—"
"We need to leave. Now." He struggles to his feet, swaying. "If she survived four hundred years pretending to be dead, she has resources we can't fight. When she wakes up, she'll bring reinforcements."
"Where can we go? Everywhere in this city is vampire territory!"
"Not everywhere." He pulls out his phone with shaking hands and dials. "Grandmother? It's Kaelen. I need the safe house. The one grandfather built during the Blood Wars... Yes, it's that bad... Thank you."
He hangs up and looks at us. "Pack nothing. We leave in five minutes."
The safe house is outside the city, hidden in the woods. We arrive just as the sun starts to rise. Kaelen winces at the growing light—it won't kill him, but it weakens him significantly.
Inside, the place is dusty but secure. Thick walls, reinforced doors, and protection spells carved into every surface.
"We're safe here," Kaelen says, collapsing into a chair. "For now."
Stella hovers nearby, clutching her schoolbag—the only thing she managed to grab. "Are you okay?"
"I'll heal." But he looks terrible. Bruised, bloody, and exhausted.
"I'll find bandages," I offer.
"There's a medical kit in the kitchen. Top cabinet."
When I return with supplies, I find Stella sitting beside Kaelen, her math homework spread on the coffee table.
"I don't understand this problem," she's saying. "The derivative of x squared—"
"Two x," Kaelen answers automatically. "Power rule. You bring down the exponent and reduce it by one."
I freeze in the doorway, watching. Stella's face lights up.
"Oh! So if it's x cubed, it becomes three x squared?"
"Exactly." His ancient fingers point to her paper. "Try the next one."
She works through it while he watches, patient and careful. When she gets stuck, he guides her without giving away the answer. It's... surreal. This vampire who calls humans "cattle" is helping my thirteen-year-old sister with calculus at dawn.
Stella notices me and grins. "Kaelen's really good at math. Did you know vampires invented calculus?"
"We didn't invent it," Kaelen corrects. "But we perfected it. Human mathematicians were close, but they kept dying before they could finish their work."
"That's sad."
"That's mortality."
They continue working while I clean his wounds. He doesn't flinch when I press alcohol to the cuts, just keeps explaining derivatives to Stella like bleeding is normal.
"You're good with her," I say quietly.
His expression hardens immediately. Caught.
"Your sister is... persistent," he mutters.
"She sees the good in people. Even when they try to hide it."
"There's nothing good to see." But the words sound hollow.
Stella looks up from her homework. "You saved us. Twice. That's good."
"I saved my political position. You two are just collateral benefits."
"Liar." Stella's smile is knowing. "You like us."
"I tolerate you. Barely."
But through the bond, I feel the truth. He's terrified of how much he's starting to care. It's easier to be cold, to pretend we mean nothing. Because caring means risking pain.
Before I can call him on it, his phone rings. He answers, and his face goes pale.
"What? When?... How many?... I understand."
He hangs up slowly.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"That was Ashcroft. The Council met in emergency session this morning." His mercury eyes find mine. "They've declared you a threat to vampire society. There's a bounty on your head—five million dollars to anyone who brings you in alive. Ten million if they deliver you before Christmas Eve."
My blood runs cold. "That's in four days."
"Yes. And with that much money at stake, every vampire in this city—every bounty hunter, every desperate noble, every mercenary—will be hunting you." He stands up, starts pacing. "We can't stay here. They'll find us eventually."
"Then where do we go?"
"I don't know. I need to think—"
The window explodes inward. Glass rains down as figures pour into the safe house—vampires, at least twenty of them, all armed with silver weapons.
Leading them is a face I recognize from the news. Lord Corbin Ashcroft, vampire noble and infamous bounty hunter.
"Ten million dollars," he says, smiling at me. "I'm going to be very, very rich."