The Last Loyal One

CAROLINE

The knock reverberated through the dilapidated corridors, sharp and purposeful.

Jessica materialized from the upper hallway.

“Blood delivery?”

I remained silent. We both knew there was no other reason for a visitor.

Alexander was already in motion, his pace leisurely as he crossed the hall. He was never worried. But he should have been.

They had seen him leave before. If they saw him again, if they suspected him of sneaking outside—

My body tensed, my nails digging into my palm as he swung the heavy door open.

A gaunt, hollow-eyed vampire stood on the doorstep, clutching a backpack to his chest. Another one of the queen’s pathetic creations.

A turned vampire, just like the others who had been abandoned when the revolution freed them from their sires.

I despised him. Despised them all.

But Alexander, ever the diplomat, acknowledged him with a nod.

“You’re late,” he said smoothly.

The vampire lowered his gaze, submissive. “Apologies, my lord. The supply was delayed.”

Lord. I almost scoffed. He was clearly new.

Alexander took the bag from him without another word, slinging it over his shoulder as if it contained nothing more than books.

He stepped back inside and shut the door before the turned vampire could utter another word.

Above us, a soft creak echoed through the rafters.

Jessica was perched on the second-floor balcony, her wild red hair cascading over her shoulder as she peered down.

The moment the door closed, she dropped from above, landing lightly on the cracked marble floor.

I remained where I was, my back against the icy stone wall, watching as Alexander unzipped the backpack.

The scent of human blood filled the air, thick and tantalizing. My throat constricted.

Jessica squatted on the ground next to the bag, waiting for Alexander to hand her a blood bag.

It pained me to see her so weak—so compliant.

She was young when the revolution happened, but not that young. She remembered the opulent lifestyle we once had.

She remembered the usurper queen when she was just a blood bag herself. But Jessica had abandoned hope of ever returning to that life.

I stepped over the debris. I wasn’t going to clean it up. None of us were going to clean it up.

That’s why Alexander started turning humans. The newly turned vampires were oblivious to the latest laws. They had no idea any other vampires existed outside these walls. They obeyed.

But they didn’t really make much of a difference, despite Alexander’s efforts to train them.

The manor was a ruin, and we were specters of the past, clinging to the last remnants of our former life.

Jessica licked her lips.

Earlier, when Alexander had been hunting, I had caught a glimpse of myself in the full-body mirror in my room.

It was shattered, one of the first casualties of the revolution. But it was all I had.

I didn’t like the reflection staring back at me. The face that used to gaze back was beautiful, proud, and strong.

Now, it was marred by anger, lined with frustration. A princess reduced to a phantom, clinging to the past.

My straight strawberry-blonde hair had grown out, so I’d pulled it up into a high ponytail.

I was wearing a pantsuit. There was no outfit I loved more than a pantsuit. It was elegant, sexy, and allowed for easy movement.

The pantsuit I wore was over fifty years old—tailored to my body when I was younger.

It was too small now, too tight over my bottom, and the jacket didn’t close over my front anymore.

I had tried to hold my head up high.

Tonight was my four hundredth birthday.

Growing up, I couldn’t wait for this date. I planned, and my mother and I would sit down and spend hours preparing.

A princess’s debut party took years to organize.

Mother and I had planned to hold it here, in our manor.

We were going to adorn the entire main hall and throne room in golds and blues.

I was going to have a gown made for me, the palest blue, so it shimmered like silver.

I was going to sit on my grandfather’s throne, dismiss young suitors, pretend to be annoyed by them, and giggle with my friends when they looked over.

I was going to allow myself to be showered with gifts, to choose from the sweetest-smelling humans to set free and hunt down in the vineyards.

That would have been a fun hunt.

Tonight, none of that was going to happen.

A flash of red silk darted from the shadows—Mother.

She moved with the grace of a ghost, materializing from thin air, grabbing two pouches before Alexander could even blink.

Then, as silently as she appeared, she disappeared into the hallway, already indulging in her drink.

“Jess, Callie.” Alexander tossed us each a bag.

The scent was unmistakable—it was human blood. I popped the top off and brought the bag to my lips.

The blood was thick and satisfying, but shockingly cold. Regardless, I drained it in mere seconds.

Jessica held hers tightly, her eyes darting toward the door as if anticipating another arrival.

She was waiting.

Father had been absent for weeks. He had always been frail.

We all knew that Alexander would ascend to the throne once Grandfather Lucius passed.

And when Alexander inevitably messed up—because he always did—the crown would be mine.

Queen. It was my destiny. It was my birthright.

But it was taken from me.

Alexander was sorting the blood bags.

Ever since he started turning vampires, he had been dividing our rations among them.

It was a small price to pay for having someone tidy up after us, change our sheets and clothes.

It was a constant reminder of our status, a faint echo of the respect and dignity we deserved.

But it seemed a steep price for the minimal work his girls did around the manor.

Mother reappeared, her bags empty. Trailing behind her was Father.

He looked dreadful. They joined us without a word.

Alexander handed Father a bag of human blood, and he accepted it slowly, as if it pained him to even touch it.

“Let’s all have a meal together,” he suggested weakly, beckoning us toward him.

Jessica sprang up, discarding her plastic bag, and rushed to his side.

Alexander watched him, his lips pursed.

Father was lowering himself to the ground, and Jessica reached out to steady him as he settled cross-legged on the floor.

He was so feeble, it was pitiful. I wanted to put him out of his misery, end the humiliation.

“Callie, come sit with us,” Mother beckoned, arranging her long skirt around her legs, smiling as if everything was normal, as if we weren’t huddled on the ruined floor of our once-grand family home.

“No, thank you,” I responded curtly, my eyes scanning the room, the oppressive silence of the broken manor weighing heavily on me. It should have been bustling with servants and guests, but instead, it echoed with the hollow sound of our shattered family—broken, pitiful.

They’ve given up. I could see it in their eyes: the same sense of defeat that sometimes threatened to consume me on my darkest days. They’re content to wither away here, like specters of the past, too scared to fight for what’s rightfully theirs.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms as my gaze shifted to Alexander, lounging nonchalantly next to Mother, stretching his legs out, sipping from a blood bag. He looked good. Better than the rest of us, at least.

He drained a human at least once every two weeks. He never shared. Never brought the humans home so we could all partake. No. He did nothing but squander blood and time. He didn’t care. Why should I?

I couldn’t bear it any longer. They were all so damn comfortable in their complacency, each one of them content to let life pass them by. It was revolting. And me? I was left with nothing.

“Callie, come here,” my father pleaded, his voice feeble, too feeble. My gaze flickered to him, a wave of disgust churning in my stomach. He was smiling, his teeth stained with blood. I noticed he was missing a fang. Unbelievable. He was just going to wait to fade away slowly.

I scoffed and turned away from him, refusing to step into the shadow of his helplessness. A king reduced to a half-dead beggar. I shook my head, refusing to join them, to stoop to their level.

“I’d rather not.” I wouldn’t pretend to be part of this decaying family. Not anymore. They had no fight left, and neither did I, not for them.

“Callie,” Mother cautioned.

“What the actual fuck do you want from me?” I snapped at my family. “I will not sit on the floor and drink cold cow blood with you! I’m a ~princess~!”

Father frowned, looking confused. “Callie, what’s wrong? Talk to us,” Father implored.

Alexander rolled his eyes, and I wanted to punch him.

“I can’t take this anymore,” I spat out, my voice laced with bitterness. “How can you be so spineless? We’re royalty! When did we stop fighting for our rights? When did we surrender? I sure as hell didn’t! I won’t give up my throne without a fight!”

“The throne is already gone, Callie,” Alexander retorted, his teeth gritted. His words were like a slap in the face.

“But it’s not gone for me,” I shot back. “The world may believe we’re dead, but I’m not finished. I’ll reclaim what’s ours.”

Alex laughed, his icy blue eyes sparkling with mockery. “You’re going to reclaim it? You against the entire Mcnoxnoctis and Ravn clans? Don’t make me laugh,” he sneered.

My anger flared up. “I’ll kill the queen,” I hissed.

“You wouldn’t even get close to her,” Alexander taunted. “None of us could leave this manor without being hunted down and killed. We have too many enemies out there, Caroline. I’d rather stay here. It’s cozy,” he winked, his grin revealing blood-stained fangs.

The cracked marble floors shimmered faintly under the flickering sconces, a sad reminder of the grandeur they once held.

“How can you make light of this?” I asked, my voice filled with frustration. “Where’s your dignity?”

“We’re alive, Caroline. That’s enough. They could have killed us all, but they showed mercy,” Father interjected.

“You can’t possibly believe that,” I retorted. “That’s not enough! If you truly believe that, then they should have killed you! All of you!”

“Enough, Callie. Go to your room,” Mother ordered, her eyes glowing a fierce crimson.

My anger surged, my nails digging into my palm, the scent of my own blood filling the room. I wanted to scream, to lash out, to destroy.

“I refuse to live like this!” I roared, “And screw you all for forgetting my birthday!” In my fury, I swiped at the oil lamp by the window, sending it crashing into the fireplace.

The fire erupted. It died down almost instantly, having nothing more to consume than the lamp, but it was enough to send my family into a panic.

The sight was the last straw.

Silence fell as the flames died out. I saw the shock on my Mother’s face, the fear in my sister’s eyes, my brother’s barely concealed rage, and my Father’s stunned expression.

I turned on my heel and stormed out, ignoring their calls.