Chapter 2 THE BLOOD PRINCE

The Black Dagger Syndicate kept its headquarters in the House of Ash, an old, sprawling manor in the merchant district. From the outside, it looked like any noble's estate, but inside, the walls whispered with secrets and the floors creaked under the weight of too many unmarked graves.

Kael had walked those halls since he was sixteen, but tonight they felt different. He could still see Marev's empty stare when he blinked, still smell the metallic tang of blood in the air.

Two guards at the door nodded him through without a word. The syndicate's crest - a black dagger against a crimson field - hung above the entryway. Beneath it, a massive chandelier swayed ever so slightly, though no breeze touched it.

Donnat Veyra's office was at the far end of the hall. The door was thick oak, carved with winding serpents. Kael knocked once.

"Enter," came the gravel-edged voice.

Veyra sat behind a desk of polished blackwood, his massive frame swathed in a dark fur-lined coat. His hair, once black as Kael's, had gone iron-gray, but his eyes were still sharp enough to cut a man open. He didn't look up from the ledger in front of him.

"Tell me you have Marev's payment," he said.

Kael dropped the coin purse onto the desk. It landed with a muted jingle - too light for satisfaction.

"Half," Kael said.

Veyra finally looked up. One eyebrow rose. "Half?"

Kael leaned against the desk. "He won't be paying the rest."

The older man studied him for a long moment, the silence stretching taut. "And why is that?"

Kael hesitated. Veyra didn't like superstition. The man dealt in fear, yes - but controllable fear. You could threaten a man with a knife or ruin his family name. You couldn't threaten him with monsters that came from shadows.

"Because," Kael said slowly, "something got to him before I could."

Veyra's gaze sharpened. "Rival crew?"

"No. Not unless your rivals can move faster than the eye and leave claw marks deeper than a sword cut."

Veyra leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "You saw it."

"I saw something," Kael replied. "Eyes like embers. Moved like smoke. Tore him apart."

A muscle in Veyra's jaw ticked. "And you lived to tell me about it?"

Kael's voice dropped. "It didn't care about me. Took Marev and vanished."

For a moment, the old boss said nothing. Then he pushed the coin purse aside. "Superstitions are bad for business, Kael. People start talking about monsters in the streets, they stop paying their debts to us and start praying to gods who don't listen. I want this handled."

Kael gave a dry laugh. "Handled? You want me to put a knife in a ghost?"

"I want you to find out who's killing my clients," Veyra snapped. "If it's a man, kill him. If it's not..." He trailed off, his gaze going cold. "Then we'll find someone who can."

Kael nodded once, though the tightness in his chest didn't ease.

Veyra's tone softened slightly. "And Kael - keep this quiet. No one outside the family hears about it."

The House of Ash never truly slept, and the main hall was still busy when Kael stepped out of Veyra's office. Men played dice at a corner table, their laughter rough and loud. A woman in a crimson dress and black veil whispered in the ear of a passing enforcer.

And then he saw her.

She stood by the staircase, framed by the flickering light of the chandelier. Her hair was as black as spilled ink, her skin pale as the moon, and her eyes... not quite red, but catching the light in a way that made him think of Marev's killer.

Her gown was midnight silk, clinging to her like water. One gloved hand rested lightly on the banister, the other holding a glass of something dark.

She was watching him.

Kael's first instinct was to look away. Beautiful women in the syndicate were rarely harmless; they were wives, widows, or daughters of men who could end you without lifting a finger.

When he didn't approach, she crossed the hall to him instead. The scent of her - something floral, but undercut with a faint metallic note - reached him before she spoke.

"You're Kael Draven," she said. Not a question.

"And you are?" he asked.

"Liora Vael." Her lips curved in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "My father runs the Red Fang Syndicate."

Rival crew. The kind you didn't even speak to unless you had a death wish.

"And yet," Kael said, "here you are."

Her smile widened slightly. "I like to see the competition up close." She glanced toward Veyra's office. "Business must be bad if your boss is calling in you."

Kael didn't bite. "You often wander enemy territory?"

"Only when it's interesting." She sipped her drink, her gaze never leaving his. "Tell me, Kael - do you believe in monsters?"

The question hit him harder than it should have. His expression didn't change. "I believe in people who act like them."

"Mmm." She tilted her head, studying him. "Careful. Some of them are worse than people."

Before he could reply, a man in a blood-red coat approached, his face hard with suspicion. "Liora. Time to go."

She didn't look at him. "I'll be along."

The man's jaw tightened, but he stepped back. Liora's eyes lingered on Kael for a heartbeat longer, then she turned and walked toward the door, her gown trailing like liquid shadow.

Kael didn't sleep that night. He sat in his narrow apartment above a shuttered tavern, the rain still drumming against the windows. He thought about Marev's scream, the glow in those eyes, and Liora's knowing smile.

When dawn broke pale over the city, he had a plan - though it wasn't much of one. If the thing in Marev's study was tied to the Red Fang Syndicate, Liora Vael might know more than she let on. And if she didn't, she was still a crack in the wall between their worlds.

In Virelia, cracks had a way of becoming doorways.

By nightfall, he was back in the Lower Quarter, moving through alleys where the lamplight didn't reach. He asked questions in the places where questions got you stabbed, and by the third tavern, he heard the name whispered: The Blood Prince.

A story, they said. A ghost from the Nightborn clans. A killer who hunted his own kind as easily as he hunted humans. But stories didn't leave claw marks.

Kael's gut told him this "Blood Prince" was no rumor. And if Liora was connected to him, Kael had just stepped into a game where the stakes were higher than money or power.

They were life and death.

And in Virelia, death always had the better odds.