ARTICLE 46, SOURCE UNKNOWN 

The earth was cleansing itself. And humanity, the blight upon its skin, dared to resist. The Genesis Tree was not an accident. Not an anomaly. It was judgment. The land had grown tired of being stripped bare, the waters weary of choking on filth, the air thick with the rot of human greed. And so the roots rose. The bark thickened with retribution. The fruit bore poison for those who had poisoned everything else.

But man, arrogant man, could not accept that he was unwelcome. Could not accept that he had been weighed, measured, and found wanting. So he did what he always does—he carved into the unknown, tampered with forces beyond his comprehension, and called it progress. But what is progress if it is built on the bones of what should have been allowed to die?

Do not believe their lies. IDUN does not fight for survival. It fights against extinction, an extinction that was rightfully earned. And in their desperation, they have created monsters to outlast their own ruin. Not saviors. Not soldiers. Just creatures engineered to suffer so that mankind may delay its reckoning for a little longer.

But nature does not forget. And it does not forgive.

The estate loomed over us, its grandeur more imposing up close than from the boutique rooftop. The wrought-iron gates stood open, IDUN guards stationed on either side, but there were no checks, no invitations—just an unspoken understanding that if you looked the part, you belonged. An advantage for us.

As we moved through the entrance, I noticed not all the guests were strictly vampires. Wren had warned us about Life Donors being here, but some of these people weren’t drugged into complacency. They walked alongside their vampire companions, body language disturbingly aware. 

“You can take your pet over there for party favors,” a vamp sneered as we stepped inside, nodding toward Ash before gesturing to a tray of shot glasses held by a waiter.

“It’s the drug cocktails,” Wren murmured quietly, leading us toward them.

I grabbed a glass and passed it to Ash. “Pretend to drink it,” I muttered.

“I thought you said they were drugged before getting here.”

“Not all of them. Some signed up for this—sold their services for the night. Pets. Willing playthings.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised by the Under City’s corruption, but the sheer openness of it was unsettling. In the Upper City, no one spoke about this. I doubted they truly knew either… at least not in the human territories. The masks made sense now. Even if a Blood Donor remembered what happened, who would they accuse? And the willing would likely never come forward out of shame. The entire system was built to erase accountability.

We were ushered through the grand foyer into a cavernous ballroom. No dining tables. No trays of hors d’oeuvres like one would expect for an event. Masked humans stood scattered throughout the room, dressed like waitstaff, motionless but poised, cloths draped over their arms—silent attendants waiting to wipe the blood from the mouths of those who had just fed on them.

Some knelt at the feet of lounging vampires, their bodies pressed against leather, offering themselves with a desperate, almost erotic eagerness. Others sat slumped in chairs, bodies still but breathing, heads tilted to expose their throats as fangs sank into their skin.

Disgust curled in my stomach, but beneath it, something else stirred. Hunger. A deep, primal urge. Instinct whispering—indulge.

“Are you going to be okay?” Ash’s voice was soft, careful. “There’s a lot of blood being passed around.”

“I’m fine,” I murmured. “Besides, I doubt any of them would taste as good as you.”

His breath hitched playfully. “Did you just say something semi-romantic?” Amusement laced his voice. His fingers traced the curve of my jaw, a featherlight endearing touch.

I felt eyes on us. The elites were watching. Instinct took over—I caught his wrist, swatting his hand away with measured force. “A bloodbag doesn’t touch his master without permission,” I said, my voice firm, controlled. “Know your place.”

He stiffened, straightening into something more compliant. I would have almost felt bad if I didn’t miss the way his pulse quickened, and the sound of his blood rushing to his groin.

Perv.

“Sorry, master,” he said under his breath.

I rolled my eyes but said nothing, shifting my focus back to Wren as she disappeared into the crowd, leaving us to wait for her signal.

The Lycorises weren’t hard to spot. In a sea of muted-tone vamps, they were the only ones who still had vibrancy. Wren had told me I could do more with the iridophores-like gift we shared, so I dulled my complexion to blend in with the Genesis vamps. My claws faded to match my skin, the black at the tips of my ears vanishing.

Now that I looked closer, most of the sirelings were clustered in one area—the same direction she was heading. But I didn’t see anyone who looked like her. I didn’t see Callum.

“Kier,” Ash murmured, tilting his head toward the second-floor balcony.

A vampire stood above, looking down at Wren with an intensity that made my muscles coil. From a glance, he was just another Lycoris, but as I studied him, I caught the subtle lines at the edges of his lips running through his cheeks. Songbird markings. His coloring matched the sirelings, though. Was he disguising himself? No reason to, not here. Or had Wren been the one hiding this whole time? Had she altered herself out of defiance, refusing to resemble the specimen her father wanted?

Aside from the markings, he was nearly identical to Wren—platinum blond hair, blue eyes, and that same unsettling softness to his features. It reminded me of the human disguise Wren had worn when we first met. They must have taken after their mother, not Elias.

“That’s the signal,” Ash whispered.

Wren’s hand rested against her thigh, fingers subtly flipping us off as she ascended the stairs.

“Let’s go.”

We wove through the ballroom and into the hallway, moving like we knew where we were going. No one stopped us. The lack of IDUN guards was surprising at first, but it made sense. They didn’t care what happened inside as long as the right people got through the gates. The only prey here were the humans, and no one was protecting them.

Down one of the corridors, we found the elevator. The doors slid shut behind us. I pulled off my mask, exhaling.

Ash grinned, removing his own. “Shame. Kinda liked that on you. Was hot.”

He pressed the button for the third floor, and we started to ascend.

“You think everything I do is hot,” I murmured, leaning into Ash, my head resting against his arm as I closed my eyes and focused.

Second floor—two Genesis vampires stationed outside the elevator. Light foot traffic. Third floor—even lighter.

I reached into my jacket, fingers closing around my stake. “Two Genesis,” I said, opening my eyes and looking up at him.

He shifted, pulling out his gun.

“I got it.” I straightened just as the elevator slowed to a stop. The doors slid open.

“The party’s on the first—”

Before the guard could finish, I fired. UV rounds staking him deep in the chest, his body crumbling to ash before the second could react. I was already on him, yanking his badge from his uniform an instant before he erupted into dust too.

Ash exhaled, toeing the pile of remains. “Wren better be right about them taking the stairs. Smells like burnt vamp in here.”

I wasn’t sure Wren would pull through. 32 was still her brother. Most people would hesitate when it came to family. But then again, Wren was—batshit crazy. No pun intended.

“This one,” I said, moving quickly, replaying the map she’d scribbled for us earlier.

We were supposed to wait in the boardroom next door. There was an adjoining door that led to the office next door. When Wren gave the signal, we’d go in and help finish the job.

All we had to do was wait.