Heart and Honour:

  The first of August marked a grim milestone—one month since the Primordials had made their opening move—and the world now balanced on the edge of uncertainty. The air felt heavy with unease, and the weight of impending catastrophe pressed hard on Adam’s shoulders. Coordinating every facility on the planet had become an overwhelming task, one that felt increasingly impossible as time slipped through his fingers.

  Joseph and Mary continued sending updates from America and Asia, but each report felt like a drop in an ocean of dread. Eve had returned a week and a half earlier with news that only deepened Adam’s anxiety. She had intended to relieve him immediately, but her arrival coincided with an infuriating dead end: finding a way into the underground tunnels Dalareyes was using to move unseen across the planet.

  Adam knew the tunnels were crucial—he felt it in his bones. They were the arteries of the Primordials’ plan, a plan still maddeningly out of reach. He had considered re?entering the warehouse where the first incursion occurred, but it remained a collapsed fortress of debris, too dangerous for him or Arius to navigate. Days bled into weeks, leaving them paralyzed while Dalareyes and the Archangels lingered in ominous silence. Their stillness was louder than any attack.

  Thalia had only recently departed for Egypt. Adam had delayed her leave until Eve returned, using the time to test his theory about the ancient sword she carried—a weapon pulsing with unmistakable malice. The moment Eve saw it, she recoiled, confirming Adam’s fears. Thalia, oblivious to the tension, was more focused on proving herself than listening.

  “Seriously, Adam? You want to send a team of your little Next?Gens with me? Do you not trust me?”

  “It’s not about trust. I want you safe.”

  “Safe? I’m carrying the only weapon that can kill Dalareyes. Humans will just slow me down.”

  “No one goes alone,” Adam insisted. “I’m ordering a team to Egypt. End of story.”

  Thalia laughed, sharp and cold. “Adam, you’re not in charge of me anymore. I’m doing this alone. If you want to argue, we can take it outside.”

  Thalia was stubborn—infuriatingly so. The kind of stubborn that could ignite a powder keg. Adam felt his pulse spike as he noticed the onlookers around them, their held breaths loud in the tense silence. Thalia had always been the one to challenge authority, to push until the very last second. Arius, her brother, was the opposite: calm, methodical, predictable. Thalia was a storm.

  “Let’s not escalate this,” Adam said, lifting a hand to stop her before she could fire back again. “I’m sending a team to Egypt, but they’ll stay at the base. Backup only. Nothing more. Is that acceptable?”

  He watched her shoulders drop, the fury draining from her like steam fading into cold air.

  “I suppose,” she muttered, irritation still simmering beneath the surface.

  “Good. When do you leave?” he asked, eager to lock the plan in place.

  “Twenty minutes. If your team isn’t ready, I’m going without them.” She didn’t wait for a response. She spun on her heel and strode out, leaving the room buzzing as everyone scrambled to look busy after blatantly eavesdropping. Adam exhaled. That woman would be the death of him.

  With a heavy heart, he left the office levels and descended into the training wing—a sanctuary of sweat, discipline, and relentless preparation. The air vibrated with the rhythm of combat, a stark contrast to the suffocating tension upstairs. He navigated the corridors until he reached the observation window overlooking Alejandra and Lucas’s weekly sparring session.

  Inside, bodies collided with sharp grunts and the dull thud of impacts. Adam watched as Alejandra flipped Lucas effortlessly, her legs locking around his neck before she twisted his arm and forced a tap-out. A familiar outcome.

  A slow clap echoed. Freya leaned against the far wall, eyes fixed on Alejandra. “Not bad, V. Though you could’ve ended it three moves earlier.”

  “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that? Gotta give him hope,” Alejandra teased, winking at Lucas as he knelt on the mat, breathless but smiling.

  “It’s the hope that kills me,” he said, admiration softening his defeat.

  “I know,” she laughed, taking a sip of water.

  Freya pushed off the wall, her tone shifting. “That might fly in training, but pull your punches out there and you’ll end up dead.”

  “I know! I just don’t want to hurt him,” Vayne replied, glancing at Lucas as he finally stood, still recovering from the spar.

  “Much appreciated,” Lucas murmured as he finally stood upright, still fighting for breath.

  “What about me then? Care to have a go?” Freya’s challenge cut through the room as she kicked off her shoes and stepped onto the mat with effortless confidence. Vayne wiped a bead of water from her chin, glancing around as if calculating the consequences of accepting.

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  “Now? I literally just trained,” she protested.

  “That was the warm?up. Now comes the real thing.” Freya shrugged off her leather jacket and tossed it aside. The black tank top beneath clung to her toned arms, every line of muscle a testament to centuries of combat.

  “Charming,” Lucas muttered with a crooked grin as he turned toward the showers.

  “Not staying to watch?” Freya called after him, teasing.

  “Don’t want my ego bruised any more than it already is. I can’t beat Vayne, and watching you kick the crap out of her won’t help.” He waved a hand dismissively and disappeared down the corridor.

  “Wait—you think I’ll lose?” Vayne shouted after him, earning only a fading laugh in return.

  Freya bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. “Care to join?”

  The two women squared off, eyes locked, neither willing to blink first.

  From the observation window, Adam watched with a blend of pride and unease. His daughter was exceptional—sharp instincts, relentless training, a natural fighter. But Freya was something else entirely. A Vampyre turned directly by an Ancient, she carried a lineage that granted her raw, terrifying power.

  Age mattered. For Vampyres and Next?Gens alike, centuries equaled strength. Freya’s venom had matured into a lethal force. Vayne, despite being Adam’s direct child, needed another hundred years of experience to truly match her.

  As Alejandra advanced, Adam felt the tension coil in the air. Vayne moved with calculated precision, reading every shift in Freya’s stance. But Freya was a predator—observant, patient, devastatingly fast.

  A twitch in Vayne’s left leg telegraphed her strike. Freya moved instantly, closing the distance in a blur. She caught Vayne’s leg under her arm, swept her remaining foot out from beneath her, and slammed her to the mat in one fluid motion. In a heartbeat, she had Vayne pinned.

  “Too slow,” Freya teased, leaning down to kiss Vayne lightly on the nose before offering her a hand up.

  “She’s impressive, isn’t she?”

  Adam jumped at the sudden voice. Arius stood beside him, grinning.

  “Gotta hand it to her—Freya is skilled,” Adam admitted, watching the Vampyre with reluctant admiration.

  Arius’s grin widened at the praise for his progeny.

  “I know that look. Hell, I have that look,” Adam said, leaning against the wall beside Arius.

  “What look?” Arius asked, curiosity slipping through his usual composure.

  “The look of a proud parent. Which is exactly what you are to that young woman.”

  “Young? She’s a thousand years old,” Arius replied, incredulous.

  “That’s young compared to you,” Adam laughed, amusement flickering in his eyes. Arius chuckled despite himself, warmth threading through the tension.

  Through the observation window, Alejandra launched another strike at Freya—only to end up flat on her back again. Adam exhaled, pride and worry twisting together. “I know it’s hard, waiting around. But we can’t move until we know where Dalareyes is. No new tunnels have opened, and the two we’ve found are off-limits. So… we wait.”

  “I know,” Arius said quietly. “But that’s not what I was thinking about.”

  He hesitated before continuing. “She really missed you—Freya. When we found her, she was devastated. She never stopped searching.”

  “I let her down,” Arius murmured, regret clouding his voice. “I promised I’d be there for her.”

  “You were,” Adam said firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You saved her life more than once. She doesn’t think you abandoned her.”

  “I think I did,” Arius whispered, gaze distant.

  Adam sighed. “Trust me, I get it. I constantly feel like I’m failing my kids. I send them into war. It’s horrific. But they chose this life. Every one of them. Knowing full well that any mission I approve could get them killed doesn’t make it easier.”

  “Without them, we’d have lost the last war,” Arius reminded him, covering Adam’s hand with his own. “They know you don’t do it for fun. They go because they believe in the cause.”

  “Life sucks. And when it’s never-ending like ours? Even worse,” Adam said with a wry smile, pulling his hand back.

  Below them, Freya and Vayne reset their stances. The air tightened with anticipation. Despite everything—the waiting, the fear, the looming threat—watching the two women spar filled Adam with a flicker of hope. Freya’s mastery was undeniable, but Vayne’s potential burned bright. Their clash wasn’t just training; it was a glimpse of the leaders they might become.

  And in the coming war against Dalareyes and the Archangels, they would need every spark of that strength.

  “Are you going to stay up there all day, or do you want to go?” Freya called from the mats, her voice echoing through the training room. Adam glanced down to see Alejandra pinned beneath Freya’s knee, annoyance etched across his daughter’s face as she struggled.

  “I see you’ve got it covered,” Adam replied, pressing the intercom button so he didn’t have to shout.

  “I wasn’t talking about you. Arius has been asleep for a few centuries—he’s looking a little rusty,” Freya teased, smirking up at them.

  “I can show you rusty if you want,” Arius shot back, raising an eyebrow. Freya grinned, releasing Vayne and offering her a hand. Vayne reached for it, then hesitated. Adam noticed immediately.

  “Alejandra, you okay?” he asked through the intercom.

  Vayne rose slowly with Freya’s help, then shook her head and walked toward the changing rooms without a word. Freya retrieved her shoes and jacket, concern flickering across her face.

  “I’m gonna take a shower,” she said, following Vayne through the doors.

  Arius watched them disappear, then turned to Adam. “Everything okay with her?”

  “Not sure. She hasn’t been the same since Gbawe. Watching Mika and Simon die hit her hard. Freya’s trying to reach her, but nothing’s really worked.”

  “Freya’s been helping her that much?” Arius asked, leaning against the glass.

  “Yes,” Adam said, a small smile tugging at his lips as he looked toward the door. “A lot.”

  “That sounds deeper than friendship. How long has that been going on?”

  “A few decades. But they haven’t seen each other in ages. Honestly, I’ve never seen that look in Alejandra’s eyes before.”

  “Nor have I with Freya,” Arius admitted. “If anyone can get through to my stubborn little sister, it’s her.”

  “Freya’s just as persistent as you when she wants something. That hasn’t changed.”

  “Clearly not. I’m just glad she’s happy,” Arius said, his tone softening.

  Right on cue, Lucas stepped out of the men’s changing room, determination written across his face. He wore the standard blue?and?black operative uniform, fitted and practical.

  “Afternoon, sir. Arius,” he greeted.

  “Afternoon, Lucas. How’s it going?” Adam asked.

  “Not bad, sir. A little on edge. Not used to it being this quiet,” Lucas admitted.

  “I get what you mean,” Adam began, but his phone rang. He stepped aside to answer it.

  Lucas leaned casually against the doorframe. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Technically, you just did. But go ahead,” Arius replied, arms crossed.

  “How easy is it to kill a Primordial? I’ve seen a handful tear apart a highly trained, organized group of my men… yet the stories about you make them sound like nothing more than animals.”

  His voice carried a quiet, honest fear.

  “Lucas, I’m a seven?thousand?year?old Vampyre—the first of my kind and arguably the most powerful being on this planet. Of course I find it easier to kill them than you do,” Arius said plainly. “But to answer your question: yes, they’re difficult to kill. A Sanguine’s hide is tough. Aim for the neck or the face. Lycans are easier to injure, but they’re smarter and far more ferocious. The eyes are the best target on both—soft, vulnerable, and a direct route to the brain.”

  Lucas absorbed the information, mentally cursing himself for asking what suddenly felt like a na?ve question.

  “There was nothing your team could have done,” Arius continued, stepping closer and resting a hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “I’ve seen the footage. It wasn’t a lack of training. They were outmatched by a superior opponent.”

  “If I was there—” Lucas began, frustration tightening his voice.

  “You would have died too,” Arius said, firm but not unkind. “A normal Primordial is already a nightmare to deal with. Danny had to face Nystra and Hypra. The difference between a Primordial and those two is like the difference between a Next?Gen and you. Even Vayne would’ve struggled.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better,” Lucas whispered, shame and grief clouding his expression.

  “I wasn’t trying to make you feel better. I’m telling you the truth. Survivor’s guilt is inevitable. Watching people you care about die never gets easier.”

  Lucas nodded slowly, letting the words settle. He opened his mouth to respond, but Adam reappeared, urgency radiating off him.

  “We’ve got a lead,” Adam announced. “A group of Primordials were sighted in Italy, a few miles from our facility there. A team’s already containing the area. This is our chance. Wheels up in thirty minutes.” Without waiting for a reply, he sprinted toward the elevator.

  “He’s in a hurry,” Lucas muttered, startled by the sudden shift.

  Arius chuckled. “We’ve been waiting for this. I’m not surprised.” He squeezed Lucas’s shoulder once more. “Take it from someone who’s lived too long—don’t dwell on what you couldn’t do. It won’t help. Keep your head in the present. When this is over, we’ll toast the ones we lost and honor them properly.”

  With that, he turned and followed Adam toward the elevator.