Page 76 of How to Dump a Vampire

“Keep it up, Luna,” I say, breathless with exertion but buoyed by the adrenaline surging through my veins. “We’re the wall between them and her.”

Always,she shoots back mentally, her voice as fierce as the fires of magic that Thorn wields above us.

With every enemy that falls, with every protective circle we draw around our witch, I can feel the weight of destiny pressing down upon us. This is our moment, the crucible that will forge our future, andnothing, no power-hungry vampire or twisted crown, will tear that away from us.

“Thorn,” I whisper, a silent prayer that she’ll stay safe, that she’ll remain untouched by the darkness clawing at our heels. Because if fate bound us together, then I’ll be damned before I let anything sever that bond.

“Audrey, stay close!” Anthony’s voice cuts through the cacophony of battle.

For a moment, my gaze turns to find him as he positions himself between my sister and a snarling vampire with ambitions far above its station. The two fight off swarms of vampires as they make their way toward Luna and myself.

“Like I have a choice,” Audrey quips even as her eyes darts around the room, seeking escape. The space has shrunk to a cage of fangs and fury, walls closing in as the vampires circle like sharks scenting blood.

“Charming time for humor,” Anthony shoots back, his sword flashing silver arcs in the dim light as he parries a blow meant for Audrey’s heart. He is grace under pressure, a dancer whose stage is the battlefield, each step a calculated risk to keep them both breathing.

“Can’t help it,” she retorts, fingers twitching at her side where her own weapon rests unused—for now. “Humor is my shield, remember?”

“Then let’s hope it’s as strong as mine,” he mutters, another swipe of his blade sending an opponent staggering backward.

His movements are precise, efficient, but even I can see the fatigue setting in. They’re outnumbered, and each passing second sees their odds dwindling.

My gaze flickers upward as a sudden, intense glow catches my attention. The king’s crown, perched atop that regal head, pulses with an ominous red light that seems to drink in the chaos below it. The air grows thick with magic and malice, the atmosphere charged with foreboding.

“Uh oh,” I breath out, a knot forming in my stomach. “That can’t be good.”

Understatement of the century,Luna’s telepathic voice buzzes in my head, laced with concern. Even without looking, I know her fur is bristling, her senses on high alert.

“We need to end this. Now!” Audrey shouts over the crowd as they step beside us.

“Working on it.” Anthony grunts as he takes down another vampire, yet for all his skill, for every vampire that falls, another rises to take its place, as if the very shadows conspire against them.

“Any bright ideas?” Audrey calls, ducking under a clawed hand that seeks to claim her.

“Survive,” I answer grimly, locking eyes with my sister. “We survive, and we protect Thorn. That’s the only plan that matters.”

“Right there with you,” Audrey confirms, her gaze flitting to the crown above and back to Anthony. A silent understanding passes between them, one of warriors linked by something deeper than blood or battle. It is the acknowledgment of a threat beyond their comprehension, one that will test the bonds of fate itself.

The crimson glow from my father’s and brother’s crowns casts a sickly hue across the ballroom, and an eerie stillness descends like death’s own cloak. I watch, my heart hammering against my ribs, as vampires around us freeze mid-stride, their eyes glazing over with that same sinister red.

“Draven,” Anthony rasps beside me, his voice brittle with sudden age. “What sorcery is this?”

I turn to him, and my blood runs cold. Wrinkles etch deep into his once-youthful face, his hair graying at the temples. The life seems to be draining out of him, aging him before my very eyes. A red thread, thin as spider silk but vivid against the chaos, links him—and all the others—straight to the king and the crowned prince. Compulsion. A puppeteer’s strings pulling taut.

“Damn it,” I spit, feeling an icy dread settle in my stomach. This is serious, a darker turn than any of us anticipated.

Thorn floats above the balcony like some avenging angel, her eyes blazing with an inner light. Her lips part, and though she whispers, the word cascades through the chaos with the force of a storm’s calm eye.

“No.”

It is soft, barely a breath, but it slams into the room with the weight of mountains. The white magic, which has been relentlessly striking the king and crowned prince, falters at her command, the glowing arrows freezing mid-air before dissipating like mist at dawn. The marks on the walls cease their furious glow, settling into a gentle pulse that matches the rhythm of my still-racing heart.

“By the stars,” I murmur, my gaze never leaving Thorn as she takes control of the room without uttering another sound.

The air stills, and then, as if conjured by her will alone, the white magic coalesces above us, swirling into two formidable spheres that hum with power. Thorn’s arms rise, and with a fierce grace, she directs the orbs toward my brother and father. They hurtle across the room, streaking like comet tails, and strike true.

The balls of magic collide with their targets.

With a sound like cracking ice, the crowns atop the heads of the king and crowned prince are knocked askew, fissures racing along their once-immaculate surfaces. The metal twists, the jewels dulled, and as they clatter to the stone floor, the oppressive aura that blanketed the room lifts just enough for a collective, shuddering breath.

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