CHAPTER 49: RECKLESS PLAN

Viviane finally managed to calm herself after speaking with Seamus.

She kept whispering under her breath, reminding herself that this was better, that she had done the right thing. There was nothing left to lose.

As Seamus had said, their relationship had only lasted two months, a fleeting and meaningless span of time.

She had believed those weeks held true happiness, but clearly, he thought otherwise.

That was fine. She no longer needed to carry the pain of that realization, because she would die today.

Viviane opened the ruined chamber once more, meeting the disdainful stares of her so-called allies.

"Where is that asshole? Drag him here. I’ll kill him this time," Eve snapped, her cracked face still unnervingly fractured like cracked porcelain doll.

"Do you think you should fix that face first?" Viviane retorted coldly. "Besides, we need to leave. The preparations are complete."

"Looking at our group, battered by mere humans... is it truly wise to challenge Isolde?" Stella finally spoke, her wounds now healed.

Vampires could not die unless their Vitalis Core was destroyed, and Seamus had clearly failed to land such a blow.

Viviane’s smirk sharpened. "What is this? Are you frightened now, Stella?"

"You once were always looking down on me with those condescending eyes, now you are scared of humans?"

Her words were enough to ignite both women’s anger.

Their alliance had always been fragile, doomed from the beginning. The House of Hesse once claimed dominion over this small city before Isolde arrived even when they were just branch family of the Great Seven Covenant.

But because she refused to share power with another house, she had driven them out in disgrace.

Cast from their main covenant, they were forced to rot in the slums, reduced to squatting in sewers where rats thrived.

Yet they still clung to the belief that this city was theirs by right.

Even after Isolde defeated them in mere minutes—slaughtering their head of house in humiliating fashion—they persisted.

Viviane herself thought they should have abandoned the claim long ago.

Still, they remained. And so did she.

She did not need their strength, only their connection to the Vampire Hunters for one thing only.

"You can run with your tails between your legs if you wish. I don’t care," she said with a careless shrug.

"But do you think I’d stay with a man who was defeated with a single punch and then fled from vengeance like a coward?"

Alastair’s pale face twisted with offense. His eyes widened as he strode toward her. "Of course not, my lady. I am no coward."

He turned his glare on Eve and Stella. "Let’s go. Unless you’d rather stay here, choking on the stench of piss in this slum."

Eve and Stella nodded reluctantly. Bound by his authority, they could not disobey, though their fury toward Viviane was plain.

She only smiled in quiet triumph, glancing at Alastair, who returned her gaze with a bright smile that made her stomach turn.

He disgusted her. Even Seamus, for all his weakness, had been more of a man than this.

"Except for you, Lulu. Stay here and guard the human," Alastair ordered.

Lulu stiffened but obeyed, relief softening her features.

Compared to these three pathetic remnants of Hesse, that girl still seemed to possess a shred of sense.

***

They arrived at the Vampire Hunter quarters, the place where Isolde was supposedly being restrained.

What Viviane saw instead was terrifying in its own way: Isolde was asleep, the bracelet clamped firmly on her wrist, yet her body showed signs of channeling power.

She looked weakened, vulnerable.

This was one of the two ways dream-weaving vampires could die: either slain inside their dream or struck down their helpless body while they were lost within one.

Viviane’s lips curved in satisfaction.

Alastair was handing a heavy case full of money to the man who seemed to be the Hunters’ leader. The man grinned broadly, pleased with the bribe.

It had not been expected to go this smoothly. Their plan should have taken time and subtlety.

But luck favored them: Isolde had been accused of abusing her power and summoned for interrogation.

True to her rebellious nature, she had refused quietly. Instead, she punished her accusers—three Hunters lay collapsed across a sofa, locked in a nightmare, their faces twisted in horror.

As Viviane stepped further into the chamber, a dagger struck the floor before her feet. She turned sharply toward the attacker.

William.

His wrinkled face, once gentle, was now hardened with resolve.

"You don’t have to do this, Lady Viviane," he said.

She drew in a deep breath. "I need to, William. You are her most loyal servant, you know how cruel she has been to me."

"Yes," he admitted quietly, "but killing your mother will only bring you deeper suffering."

"Why should I care?" Viviane’s fists tightened.

"She drained every drop of love from me until nothing remained. Don’t try to stop me. Don’t talk me out of this."

William was silent for a moment, then nodded gravely. "If that is your choice, then as her servant I will protect her with my life."

Viviane understood. She dodged another dagger as he threw it with precision. He aimed only to stop her, not to kill.

She might have let him live, he was not her enemy in truth.

But Eve and Stella were faster. Red strings unfurled from Estelle’s hands, whipping around William.

He evaded the first strike, then the second, but the third ensnared him. Bound tight, he froze, unable to resist.

Eve blurred forward. Her arm hardened into stone as she struck his chest with brutal force. His heart shattered in her hand. William collapsed lifeless to the ground.

Viviane’s expression darkened. Eve and Stella smiled in triumph, but she only rolled her eyes.

"You realize how pathetic that was, don’t you? Did you think I’d fall to my knees, screaming, ’No! Not my butler!’ and weep over his body?"

Eve only shrugged. "I don’t know. But you look pissed enough."

Viviane only stares at her with dead eyes, unflinching, before turning away and moving toward Isolde’s sleeping form.

She smiled at the sight. Helpless and weak. The roles were finally reversed.

"How does it feel, Mother?" she whispered.

"How does it feel not to be in control anymore?"

From her sleeve, she drew a knife. Not an ordinary blade, but a slender weapon engraved with intricate detail, the only one of its kind.

It was her father’s gift, a relic from her childhood.

"Do you remember this?" Her voice trembled with a bitter smile.

"It was my birthday present. Father said it would protect me, a knife to slay any vampire who dared to hurt me."

She lowered the blade to Isolde’s throat. "Of course you don’t remember. Because you killed him. You slaughtered your husband—the father of your daughters—in front of us."

The knife’s tip pressed against her mother’s pale neck.

"Now it’s your turn to die," Viviane whispered, "by the hand of your own blood."