The room was quiet except for the faint rustle of papers beneath Hazel’s fingers. The mani folder Verity had left earlier y open across her desk, a patchwork of blood reports, clinical observations, and condensed psych data.

  Tucked between the pages, as though it were an afterthought, was a simple slip of paper.

  Southern Fairhaven. Municipal Morgue. Lower Annex.

  Hazel stared at it for a long time.

  Behind her, Alex leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed loosely. Her golden-silver gaze drifted toward the clock on the wall. “We wait, she disappears.”

  Hazel didn’t need to ask who she meant. The body. The facility. If someone had left Lena out where Verity could find her, then they hadn’t pnned for her to stay there long.

  Hazel touched the paper once more, then nodded. “We go tonight.”

  Alex pushed off the sill, already reaching for her coat. “Let’s call the others.”

  Hazel’s fingers moved with practiced calm as she dialed. First Mariah. Then Celine. Each answered quickly, without questions. They already knew something was coming.

  “They’ll meet us here,” Hazel said, slipping her phone back into her pocket.

  A beat passed before she turned toward the door. “I should check on Stel.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow. “What are you going to tell her?”

  Hazel’s hand paused on the frame. “Nothing.”

  “She’s not stupid.”

  “No. But she’s safe. And tonight, that’s enough.”

  She stepped into the hallway, closing the bedroom door softly behind her. A sliver of warm light bled into the dark from under Stel’s door, and Hazel knocked gently before letting herself in.

  Stel was curled up on her bed, tangled in a loose sweater and a half-open textbook resting on her stomach. She looked up when Hazel entered, smiling sleepily.

  “You’re not in bed yet either?” she asked.

  Hazel gave a soft smile. “Not yet. Just checking in.”

  Stel shifted to sit upright, brushing her hair over one shoulder. “Something on your mind?”

  Hazel approached and sat on the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her p. “Do you remember those two I mentioned earlier? The ones I was tested with?”

  Stel blinked. “Vaguely. You said Verity had you spar or something.”

  “Mariah and Celine,” Hazel said. “They’re like me.”

  “Like you?” Stel frowned. “You mean...?”

  “Infected,” Hazel confirmed softly. “They’ve only recently turned, like I did. Today was the first time I met them face to face.”

  Stel stared for a moment. “And? Were they... like you?”

  “In different ways,” Hazel said. “Mariah’s confident. Strong. She hides her gentleness under bravado. Celine’s shy, but observant. Quietly sharp.”

  Stel tilted her head. “So you’re forming a vampire girl gang?”

  Hazel chuckled, the sound soft and unexpected. “Not quite. But there’s a strange comfort in not being the only one.”

  Stel smiled faintly. “I’m gd. You deserve people who understand.”

  Hazel watched her for a long moment, something unspoken flickering behind her eyes.

  Stel shifted under the gaze, then yawned, rubbing her cheek. “I should probably sleep. I’ve got a quiz tomorrow.”

  Hazel reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her sister’s ear. Her touch lingered—gentle, deliberate.

  She hadn’t done this before. She wasn’t even sure how she knew it would work. But she trusted the instinct, buried somewhere deep within the changes that had overtaken her body.

  A quiet breath left her lips, barely audible. The air shifted almost imperceptibly—filled with a subtle, pleasant warmth. A soft floral trace, like fresh iris and morning rain, diffused invisibly into the room.

  Stel blinked once. Then again. Her posture softened, her shoulders rexing as though the weight of the day slipped from her frame.

  Hazel leaned closer. “You should rest,” she whispered.

  Stel didn’t protest. She id back against her pillow, her expression calm, her eyes heavy-lidded but peaceful.

  Hazel pulled the bnket up and tucked it lightly beneath her chin. “Sleep well.”

  “Mmh...” Stel murmured. Her lips parted slightly, but no words followed.

  Hazel brushed her fingertips along her sister’s forehead and stood. The scent clung lightly to the air, but it didn’t disturb the silence.

  She stepped out, pulling the door shut behind her with infinite care.

  In the living room, Alex was already at the door, hood drawn up, her coat buttoned.

  “Did it work?” she asked.

  Hazel nodded once. “She’s asleep.”

  “You used them?”

  “For the first time.”

  Alex studied her for a long moment. “Feels wrong, doesn’t it?”

  Hazel didn’t answer.

  A knock came at the door.

  Hazel opened it to find Mariah and Celine waiting, both dressed in dark clothes, eyes alert but not tense.

  Mariah’s curls were pulled back, her expression cool and unreadable. Celine gave a small, quiet wave.

  “We’re ready,” Hazel said.

  Mariah gnced past her, toward the hall. “Stel?”

  “She’s fine. She’s asleep.”

  Mariah nodded. “Then let’s go.”

  The night was waiting.

  The air outside was cool and still, the city lit by the scattered glow of traffic signals, distant storefronts, and the occasional flickering neon sign.

  Southern Fairhaven loomed several miles off—too far to walk, too te for trains, and too precarious to split up.

  They waited on a side street not far from the house, hidden from the main avenue by the lean shadow of an old bakery.

  The four of them stood together, dark coats blending into the silence, unhurried despite the hour.

  Hazel adjusted the colr of her coat and gnced toward the curb.

  “They’ll slow if they think we’re harmless,” she said softly.

  Mariah leaned against a mppost, arms folded. “We look like we stepped out of a perfume ad. We’re more than harmless.”

  Celine stayed close to Hazel’s side, gncing up and down the road. “I can try something. If someone stops.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow, golden-silver eyes flicking toward her. “You’ve done it before?”

  Celine hesitated, then nodded. “A little. I think it just… works.”

  Hazel didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Celine’s voice had that same quiet current Hazel had felt earlier that day during training—subtle but unmistakable.

  A pair of headlights curved the corner a few blocks down, heading slowly in their direction. It was a midsize sedan, the kind of rideshare that wouldn't normally stop this te unless fgged.

  Celine stepped forward without hesitation.

  The car rolled nearer, its headlights sweeping across them in a slow arc. Celine raised one hand—open palm, rexed fingers. Not demanding. Just present.

  The driver began to slow.

  Hazel felt it. The shift in the air.

  Celine didn’t speak until the car had rolled almost to a stop beside the curb.

  “Hi,” she said gently, peering through the open window. Her voice was soft, tinged with something warm and unspoken. “We were hoping you could give us a quick ride.”

  The man behind the wheel blinked. His face was lined with sleepiness and the kind of resignation that came from too many te-night fares. But as he looked at her, his posture softened—his brow eased.

  “Where to?” he asked, voice slow, uncertain.

  Celine gave a small smile. “Municipal morgue. Southern Fairhaven. Lower annex entrance.”

  The man didn’t flinch.

  Hazel watched his expression shift, the lines in his forehead smoothing like wax under a fme. He nodded slowly and unlocked the doors.

  “Get in.”

  Celine turned and gave Hazel a small nod. Hazel opened the back door and slid in first, followed by Alex and Mariah. Celine slipped into the front passenger seat with quiet ease, her presence calm and unthreatening.

  The driver adjusted his mirror once, barely looking at them.

  Hazel leaned back in her seat, eyes flicking to the passing lights as they pulled into the street. The city slipped by in muted colors, buildings shifting past in shades of gray and gold.

  None of them spoke.

  They didn’t need to.

  The quiet between them wasn’t silence—it was momentum.

  They were going to find her.

  The city blurred past them as the car rolled deeper into Southern Fairhaven—its narrow streets lined with aging apartments, fenced-off industrial blocks, and the looming outline of hospitals long overdue for funding.

  Inside the car, the silence didn’t st.

  Mariah leaned forward slightly from the back seat, her arms draped over the headrest beside Celine’s. Her eyes caught Hazel’s in the rearview for a brief moment before shifting to Alex.

  “So… let’s say we pull this off,” she said, voice low but casual. “What exactly do we tell people when a supposedly dead girl walks out of the morgue?”

  Alex didn’t miss a beat. “Call it a miracle.”

  Celine gave a soft ugh under her breath, the sound warm and fleeting. “Not a bad excuse.”

  Hazel tilted her head slightly. “Miracles require faith. Too many people are looking for expnations.”

  Alex grinned. “That’s the beauty of it. The right people will believe whatever comforts them. The rest will rationalize it away.”

  Mariah gave a quiet snort. “So we’re leaning into ‘selective delusion’ as our official policy?”

  “It’s worked for religion, marketing, and politics,” Alex said dryly. “Why not vampirism?”

  Celine gnced sideways at the driver, who hadn’t so much as twitched. His hands stayed loose on the wheel, his gaze vacant, fixed on the road. If he heard them, it hadn’t registered.

  Hazel’s eyes lingered on the back of his head. “We shouldn’t assume he won’t remember ter.”

  Celine nodded. “I’ll cloud the memory when we get out.”

  Alex waved a hand dismissively. “Worst case, he remembers vague faces and thinks we’re goth EMTs.”

  Mariah rolled her eyes. “Right. Four elegant women hauling a corpse out of a freezer. Totally normal.”

  “We’re not hauling anything,” Hazel said. Her voice was quiet, but certain. “If Lena’s body is intact, we won’t need to move her.”

  Alex folded her arms. “She’ll need blood.”

  Hazel nodded once. “A lot of it. Fresh. Enough to restart everything.”

  “And if she doesn’t wake up?” Mariah asked, more softly now.

  “She will,” Hazel said.

  Alex didn’t argue. “Even if she doesn’t… we’ll know she wasn’t lost. Not the way Verity thinks.”

  Mariah’s gaze shifted to the window, watching the neon reflection drag across the gss. “Still going to be awkward when she shows up at her own memorial.”

  Celine murmured, “Better awkward than buried.”

  Hazel’s fingers were folded neatly in her p, but her eyes had that distant sharpness to them again. “We’ll awaken her first. Decide what to tell others afterward.”

  Mariah exhaled. “Sounds like a pn. A reckless, slightly terrifying pn.”

  Alex smiled faintly. “Our specialty.”

  The car fell quiet again, but the weight of the silence had changed. Less hesitation. More resolve.

  Outside the window, Southern Fairhaven began to narrow—less light, fewer pedestrians. The morgue wasn’t far now.

  And inside the car, four not-quite-human women were already preparing for what came next.