In the morning, Blaine woke and couldn't find Lillian on the bed. He searched the room frantically, then calmed himself and listened. A steady heartbeat came from downstairs. He sighed and headed to the kitchen.
Lillian stood at the stove, cooking.
"Are you okay now?" Blaine asked.
"Yes. Thank you for asking." She gave a quick, fake smile and turned back to the pan.
"Are you sure?" he pressed.
"Blaine, I'm perfectly fine. Can't you see I'm cooking without covering my ears?"
Blaine walked to the espresso machine. "Glad you're okay."
"You brought that?"
"Yes. Want some?"
"Nah. You don't look like you can make good coffee."
Blaine scoffed. "I'm a famous barista. I own the coffee shop you like to go to."
Lillian served her food and headed for the door, then paused. "If you're that good, make me a Caffè Macchiato."
"Don't have the equipment, but I'll make you my signature coffee. You'll want more."
"Whatever. Your food is still in the pot."
She sat at the dining table and began to eat. Moments later, Blaine came out with two cups, a wide smile on his face. He slid one toward her. "Taste it."
Lillian raised the cup with doubt. The first drop touched her tongue. Her eyes widened. She gulped it down, then grabbed Blaine's cup and drank that too.
Blaine stared, impressed.
Lillian set down the empty cup with a genuine smile—the kind she hadn't shown in years.
"You really like my coffee," he said.
"Of course I do!" She was almost giddy. "It reminds me of the first coffee I ever tasted. My first day in New York. A freezing winter. I had nowhere to go, so I sat in front of a café. A little girl and her mom gave me a cup. I didn't know what it was, but it didn't taste like suffering. It tasted like… possibility."
Blaine pulled up a chair. "I've always wondered. Who are you? How did you get here?"
Lillian's smile faded. She played with her spoon, avoiding his eyes.
---
"I was born in a small village called Haleton. My father, James, was abusive. My mother was kind, and my three sisters took after her. I inherited my mother's storytelling gift, but I was a sociopath. The village hated me for it.
"My father beat my mother every night. When my sisters tried to stop him, he beat them too. But the village saw him as a good man, because my mother never told anyone.
"One night, we planned to escape. But my father burned them alive and framed me. He said I wanted my mother's books and would do anything to get them. Everyone believed him. I was thirteen.
"I ran to New York. I worked part‑time jobs, manipulated, deceived, and survived. I promised myself I would become successful through storytelling. When I was eighteen, I met Mr. Hudson. He made me who I am today.
"That's me."
She fell silent. Blaine didn't say a word.
Suddenly, Lillian looked up and stared at the ceiling as if she were in a trance.
"Lillian? What's wrong?" Blaine called out, but Lillian didn't reply.
---
In her trance, she saw the banshee again.
"Follow me," the banshee whispered, and led the way. Lillian followed.
In a flash, she found herself in an airport.
"Watch," the banshee said, "and see who they are after."
A group of werewolves arrived at the airport. Handsome, but wickedness ran in their veins.
"So this is where Blaine ran off to," one of them said. "He betrayed us just to come to a city too big for us to find his scent easily."
The speaker was Aiden.
Another, Alan, added, "He must have forgotten that we are still his blood brothers. Just because he's a true alpha doesn't mean we won't find him."
Caden scanned the crowd. "Since they need to be saved from vampires, he's probably one of the werewolves protecting the Savior."
"What are you saying?" Chase asked, confused.
Caden glared. "Seriously? You don't get it?"
"No, I don't."
Alan smirked. "Chase, he's saying that if we find Lillian Silver, we'll definitely see Blaine. And then we'll kill him."
Chase nodded casually. "Let's go, then."
They walked away.
"Do you see?" the banshee asked.
Lillian was shocked. Then she opened her eyes.
---
"Oh my God, Lillian! I thought you were hearing voices again. What happened to you?" Blaine was obviously worried and scared.
"Do you have blood brothers?" Lillian asked, fear in her voice.
"Y… yes." Blaine looked at her with a strange expression. "How did you know?"
"They're coming to kill you. Anytime from now," Lillian said with suspense.
"What? You must be kidding me. How would you know that?" Blaine asked, trying not to believe her.
"Call the others!" Lillian instructed.
---
While in Hazel's office, she sat on her CEO chair with her legs crossed. She examined her vampire claws as if waiting for prey.
A knock on the door. She quickly hid her claws.
Her personal assistant, Mr. Paul, stepped inside. "Miss Hazel, I found him. He's at the door. Should I let him in?"
Hazel smirked. "Of course."
"But Miss Hazel… what if he asks for more money after the one you'll give him now?"
"I'll suck his blood dry," Hazel replied coldly.
Mr. Paul smiled and went to the door.
A man who looked wretched—clearly addicted to gambling—walked in.
"Have a seat over there," Mr. Paul said, gesturing to a visitor's chair.
The man sat.
Hazel stood and moved to the chair directly across from him, leaning in.
"James," she said slowly. "You're Lillian Silver's father, aren't you?"
The man nodded. "Yes, I am."
Hazel grinned from ear to ear.