"Do you have a death wish?"

The vampire was yanked off of me, the owner's excessive strength sending him off balance. He recovered too quickly, brushing his sleeves and shooting a dirty look at my unfamiliar saviour. "Back off, runt."

"If you hurt her, you'll get a round in the pit." From any other vampire, it would have sounded like a threat. The boy who had intercepted my attacker couldn't be more than two years older than me, but he spoke with such care that it sounded more like friendly advice.

The boy stood at a greater height than me. He looked sharp and polished but not as confident in his attire as he wished to be. His side swept, sandy-brown waves of hair had won a battle to be tamed, and it fell in gentle waves, softening his lightly freckled, angular face. He was sporting a v-neck sweater that barely passed the club's dress code, likely because he wore it so well. The slim-fit sweater clung to his physique with a relaxed fit, highlighting his strong shoulders and exposing the subtle curves of his collarbone. One of his sleeves was tugged down to his wrist, while the other was poorly rolled halfway up his forearm.

I turned my head, hoping to glimpse Alec or my friends. They were nowhere to be found. There was no rustling in the crowd nor a gathering to suggest a single fight was taking place. Which meant I needed a distraction to get away from these two because I was beginning to get the sinking feeling that they planned on keeping me. They were giving off real kidnapper vibes.

Another vampire came to stand beside my initial attacker, his eyes barely giving me a look over as he listened to the other man. "You won't be stronger than me for much longer. Enjoy it while you can." The original sent me a glare as he finished.

Suddenly, he grabbed my bicep and yanked me along, trying to lead me to the stairs.

"Hey!"

Yanking me into his chest, he sneered, "If you scream, I'll kill your pretty little boyfriend."

As if. I grinned back, "Doubt it."

He puffed out his chest, and raised his hand to my cheek, but with a single glance at the sandy-haired boy, he refrained. He patted my cheek once and leaned down, making me shrink back. "Don't try me, Kitten."

Ew. I don't think he liked the look on my face because the grip tightened on my body. There was a lashing of air, and a second later, he was haphazardly dropping me on the floor. I regained my bearings in time to see the boy closing the curtain behind him with a grimace.

Assholes Number One and Number Two were speaking rapidly, but the boy's eyes stayed on me with curiosity sparkling in the corner of his eyes. They had claimed one of the private rooms, but that didn't mean Alec wouldn't find us. The rigidness of their postures suggested that they knew this. They were tense…nervous.

I could work with that.

"I don't know who you think I am, but –

Asshole Number Two cut me off, "Apparently, that flashy jewelry round your neck is a bullseye." Apparently? How would they not know the Volturi's crest? They'd called the boy a runt, but perhaps they weren't quite so far apart. I observed Number Two as if I would be able to tell. He was burly but not too tall. It made him present as less of a threat, which was undoubtedly false. "He knew they'd stake a claim on you."

So they were working for someone specific – goons AND assholes.

My chest deflated at the information. The Volturi crest was intended to deter tempted vampires. Instead, it made me a target. Alec had grumbled about having no need for it, saying that I would never leave his side long enough for anyone to dare approach me. And if they did, he'd insisted, he'd kill them.

Despite trying to scare me, there was a flash of intimidation in Goon Number One's eyes—a sudden wariness directed at me, at my lips. "What are you so smug about?" he hissed.

"You're so screwed."

Before he could grab me and demand to know what I meant – because, apparently, he didn't know – Goon Number Two slammed an arm across his chest like a seatbelt.

"She's baiting you, you idiot." It was too easy. I'd been educated on their signs far too often to be wrong. My kidnappers were newborn vampires.

"It doesn't bother you that we're kidnapping her, and she doesn't seem at all concerned?"

All pairs of eyes dropped to me.

The big guy shrugged.

Goon Number One, formerly Asshole Number One, scoffed. "Whatever. Just knock her out, and let's go."

I tried scrambling away till my back hit the wall as the big one, now Goon Number Two started towards me. There was no way a semi-newborn vampire trying to knock me out was going to go well. Especially not one who was already strong-looking.

Again, the young sandy-haired boy stepped in, sounding outraged, "You can't knock her out!"

The petulance dripped from Goon Number One's words like soup. "And why not?"

"He wants her to hear him when they talk, doesn't he?" Talk? Of course. I wasn't foolish. I could put the pieces together well enough to know their mysterious boss was likely Silvertongue. But the guy was going through a lot of effort just to betray Razin. And he certainly wasn't being subtle about it. He was using goons – not only the three in front of me but the ones that attacked my friends.

What if he had more? Felix, Jane, and Maliq had surrounded the building outside, just in case. Had Silvertongue brought enough vampires to overwhelm them?

Goon Number Two finally contributed, "He's right. We're running out of time."

The boy bent down in front of me, "it's okay. We don't want to hurt you."

He was quite lovely up close. A similar boyhood-esque appearance, much like Alec, but sweet and less damaged – like one of Peter Pan's Lost Boys. In a way, I guess he was like a Peter Pan now.

"Speak for yourself," someone, probably Goon Number One, muttered. Peter Pan ignored them, giving me a soft smile and keeping my focus on him as he tried to appeal to me.

"Either way, we aren't allowed to hurt you." What the hell did that mean? "But I need you to calm down, because your heartbeat is making it difficult to remember that, and crabby pants over there isn't too patient." That was a way better nickname than mine. Crabby Pants.

I nodded. He pulled a zip tie from his pocket and presented it to me.

"I'm going to tie this around your wrists, okay." What did he expect me to do? Willingly present my wrists to my kidnappers. He gave me a wide grin, and I decided I was spot on with a Peter Pan comparison.

He took my silence as compliance, but I'd never been so easily compliant in my life. I pushed away from his hand until my back smacked against the wall again. He winced at the sound. Peter Pan may have saved me, but there was no telling what he would do next. He was still helping the other two kidnap me.

Crabby Pants grunted, taking a step forward. Peter Pan held my gaze, throwing his arm behind him in a stop sign to tell his partner to cut it out.

"I'll be gentle. I promise."

I didn't fight him this time, letting him hold my wrists together while the plastic tightened around them. Peter Pan helped me stand.

"Good Kitten."

I bared my teeth, but Goon Number Two's shoulder was digging into my stomach a second later. His arm secured my legs too tightly, and he purposely lifted his shoulder into me. I coughed and grumpily considered my lesson learned.

Goon Number Two walked past the couch opposite the curtain as if he were going to walk through the wall. Peter Pan fell into step behind us, and neither slowed down. Apparently, there was a hidden door in the wall because a ceiling closed us in, and my last glimpse of the curtain – of the club was gone before I could even think to make a call for help.

Peter Pan closed the door behind us, and the world went dark. The hallway was hair-raising enough, but the vampires barely audible footsteps somehow made it worse. They were like ghosts, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep it together.

I couldn't see anything in the dark, but I was being watched. Any attempt to snake out of my new bracelets would likely be met with an even more restrictive bond. Number Two came to an abrupt stop, my ribs getting the rough end of the movement. It didn't have to hurt to be uncomfortable or to bother my breathing. But it didn't help that I was growing angry with my situation, and my lungs were seeking more air as I processed it.

"Make sure they don't have anyone waiting around." There was a brief flash of light – outside light – and the brief clunk of metal meeting metal from behind me. I blinked quickly, seeing Peter Pan still standing behind Number Two. He nodded. What a weird guy.

The solid door opened again, held open as a voice announced that the outside was, to my shotty luck, clear of any Volturi members. Number Two began to walk forward, stepping into the dimming light of the sky. The outside air filled my lungs as the gravel ground rustled under their feet.

I shifted a little, seeing if I could manage to get out of Goon Number Two's hold.

I made eye contact with the boy again. He was holding open the door we'd just exited as if waiting for someone else. When no one came, I got curious. It was like he had waiting for me to do so, moving his mouth in a weird exercise. I frowned, he was mouthing something. I tried to read his lips as he repeated the mute command.

"Scream." His eyes flickered to the others, filled with urgency. "Now."

I did.

Number Two practically flung me onto the ground.

Someone cursed.

And the bastards knocked me out.

~•~•~•~

Note to self. Maybe don't listen to a kid whose best friend is a dumb fairy.

I was first aware of the whipping leaves, subject to the force of a body hitting it and appealing to the wind in our aftermath. The wind wasn't as loud or striking with Good Number Two's back blocking my face. I was back on his shoulders, his speed running somehow not as uncomfortable as a walk. Even if his bone was a constant shove into my gut. It was a wonder this alone didn't wake me up sooner. I'd never been knocked out before – not on purpose, at least.

Abruptly, my feet landed on the ground, making me stumble back into a hard wall. Not a wall. I wrestled against the cold touch immediately, using my elbows in place of my hands and violently twisting as they struggled to keep me still.

"Woah! Hey…okay…" My arms were held down to my sides, and their owner had to bend his knees to look me in the face. "You're okay."

I blew my hair off my face, relenting. Peter Pan released me with his hands raised in a sign of peace. I surveyed our surroundings with a wild energy, my heart sinking as I took in the shadows of the trees towering over us. We had settled in a clearing between the trees of a heavy forest – Grunewald, I assumed. Hoped. There was no telling how far we had gone from the city. No way to know which direction was safe and a 0% chance I could take one step before they recaptured me. We were too deep in this forest from what I could tell, and I was stuck with animals more rabid than the ones habitually living in the wooded area.

Now I was screwed.

At least it wasn't my fault this time.

Why were we stopping? Surely, they wanted to avoid the Volturi, who were undoubtedly on our tail. Their nerves had not eased, but each of my kidnappers was surveying the treeline as intently as me. They couldn't afford to wait.

An owl took off from a tree, making me whirl around with a racing heart. Crabby and Number Two laughed at me, assuming the response was out of fear.

"Don't worry, Kitten, your friends are being entertained." So, I was right. There had to be more of them. Otherwise, Jane and Felix would be here. They would have gotten to us before we'd even entered the woods. Right?

"They're gonna kill you," my words tasted like poison, but he mocked my malice. I held back a growl as they enjoyed my puny humanity. With my wrists still tied together, I bent down, slipped out of my reasonable heels (not like I needed them out here), and swung one at him with the force of a bat. Crabby caught it, unsurprisingly, but the anger of my failure filled me too quickly.

"Pathetic." He stalked towards me, "Can't even protect yourself without your –"

I spit in his face. Again.

He roared furiously, quite ready to throttle me – which I'm quite sure was his new after-life goal.

Peter Pan shoved between us before Crabby could, "Wait. Someone's coming."

Goon Number Two had grabbed Crabby as well, and the newborn's anger was not dissipating. Number Two grunted as if it was no big deal, saying "Finally," in a way that, if I were his approaching boss, I'd totally fire him for.

"Shit –"

I was thrown back, my head smacking against the ground as Crabby pinned my shoulders to the damp earth. He snarled just as a large mass burst through from the forest, tackling him to the ground and sending them several feet away.

Talib.

The newborn roared as my guard easily overpowered him. He threw himself forward, but Talib used Crabby's momentum against him, yanking him forward and slamming their foreheads together. The younger vampire's head flew back with a crack, denting the earth. Talib ripped the head from the body in an instant.

In the castle, the Guards savoured the ending. Out here, they were swift and brutal.

Number Two didn't waste a second, moving in a flurry to attack his awaiting enemy with a battle cry. A boom spread through the clearing as Talib collided with him.

Peter Pan darted in front of me, helping me stand on shaky feet while his body acted as a wall of protection.

This movement made him the next target as another figure jumped from the trees above Talib and Number Two's fighting forms. I blinked, and he was gone. Percy stood in front of me now, fervent in her manner, demanding I answer her question. It was too loud, and she was blurry, but what about –

Instead of answering, my head whipped around to where she'd thrown Peter Pan into a tree. He'd collapsed on the ground and was pushing himself to stand, his lips upturned in a deadly snarl.

The young vampire launched towards her in the air, and she was ready, catching and slamming him into the forest floor. They were mere flashes of violent motions and streaks of speed, like fast-forwarding through an action scene while holding your breath.

He swiped at her with a brazen, uncoordinated anger that verified his recent rebirth. It made him just like the others, unpredictable and prone to violence, even with that gentle smile. Percy, however, was fluid. She knew how to handle a newborn. How to eliminate them.

Talib, too, was still fighting his vampire. But only because another had joined – two against one. I pivoted around to see if there were others, praying someone capable would arrive to help Talib and Percy. No one came. And I'd only make things worse.

A sudden shout returned my attention to Peter Pan and Percy. My new friend/kidnapper was on his knees, staring at me with something familiar, an expression I'd seen before with his tilted brows and genuine aura. Percy turned his head to the side, ready to twist.

"Stop!" I screamed, and to my great relief, she did. Though the hold tightened in her greater capability of understanding the situation, daring the boy to test her. She fixed me with an impatient glare. But I never got the chance to explain.

Another vampire leapt down from the trees, and landed on her back. With a gruesome twist, it tore her neck from its spine in one savage motion. Percy's body went limp.

In the blink of an eye and the aftershock of shattered glass, she was gone.

Peter Pan shook his head, regaining his bearings. He refocused on me with no apparent internal struggle, an amount of control I hadn't thought possible for newborns.

The other vampire kicked her body into the brush until I couldn't see it. A choking sound left my throat, and the creature swung around. The vampire took a step towards me, bloodthirsty and hissing viciously.

Peter Pan teleported like a stalking shadow, sidestepping Percy's murderer, wrapping his bicep around its neck, and snapping. The vampire fell like it never stood a chance, crumpling to the ground. Just like his victim.

The justice was swift and reminiscent of a morality that was very, very human. His eyes flashed behind me, and then Peter Pan was gone.

Arms grabbed me then, spinning me around, and my scream lasted for less than a millisecond before I released a shattering breath, "Percy, she…she sh…"

I looked up to see Talib's jaw clenched, emotions swimming under the surface, and pointedly avoiding the vicinity of his fallen friend's body. Or maybe he wasn't affected at all. I'd never noticed if they were particularly close. They were soldiers, after all.

He ignored my shocked state, steadying his hands on my shoulders but keeping vigilant of our surroundings.

"We need to separate."

"What? No!"

His hand moved to squeeze my shoulder comfortingly, but his narrowed eyes never strayed from the treeline. "They can track my scent. Which means you need to go that way to reach the city." He pointed opposite Percy's body. "When you get there, find a phone, call Alec – do you remember his number?" I relayed the number, and he nodded.

"There are more of them," I informed him, my brain glitching back to what I'd overheard.

Talib forcefully turned me around, seeing something I did not. "Go, Saffiya!"

I broke out into a run, but a single word reached out from the earth and jerked me back.

"Stay."

My bare feet were stuck to the dirt as if I were knee-deep in quicksand. My muscles clenched and spasmed as I tried to pull free, but it was no use. A pressure on my temple insisted, no demanded access to my free will. And suddenly, the sand's claim lessened.

I wanted to stay.

A figure in a capacious hooded cloak of deep burgundy red shrouded the owner's face in a hidden abyss. The hem of his cloak was uneven and jagged, heavy but more agile than those the Volturi wore. His cloak was not for discretion, like the darker, less dramatic standard of the rulers. No…the colour gleamed with defiance and mocked its counterpart. It was tailored for war.

The figure lifted his hood from his forehead, letting the fabric fall to reveal a rugged, handsome complexion. My heart stopped.

Talib reacted before I could warn him, striking and sending the other man back into the trees.

Talib was masterfully trained, but his opponent was not ill-equipped, and while the man didn't match my guard's skill, he managed to hold his own. He blocked Talib's strikes with a well-timed parry, and narrowly avoided the quick adaptation from Talib. With a swift, calculated move, he ducked under another of Talib's precise swings. The elder vampire then had the advantage, grabbing the newcomer's collar.

His mouth moved, and Talib froze.

A hiss echoed from the interaction, "Fall."

The cloaked man stepped forward, unbalancing Talib and sending him sprawling to the ground. He pressed his advantage, shoving a passive Talib's jaw into the dirt and pulling the Volturi member's arm taut. Talib's deep cry vibrated in the soil as the limb was torn from his torso.

Talib struggled beneath the weight, frustration, and determination etched on his face as he made eye contact with me.

"Saffiya, run!"

I couldn't. I wouldn't.

The enemy's hand raised, about to slash into my friend when I crashed against his side, my hands clasping around his bicep and forearm. I strained, tugging it away from Talib with all my might. Pointlessly. As useless as I always was. He didn't budge.

"Daddy, please," I cried softly, glancing down at Talib, who still made no physical move to fight back. His eyes widened at the information, but I looked away before he decided he hated me. "He's trying to protect me."

My breath stifled my chest, and my fingers unwound from his shirt as he shifted to a standing position. I eyed them nervously, nearly jumping out of my skin when he roughly shoved Talib's right shoulder with his heel, flipping the man onto his back. Like a tyrant, he ordered, "Stay."

Talib obeyed, filling me with dread.

"Bastian said you rejected my offer." My head shot up.

Red eyes sparkled as my father flashed me a disarming, genuine smile, "I've been waiting for you."

As recently as this morning, I would have immediately hugged him. Run to him with relief and embrace the comfort of a parent. If he thought of this, he didn't show it. Something felt off. It felt wrong. False.

It took me until now to admit that I knew why. And something else began to fill the hole where hope had made home for so long—clear-headed bitterness. Somehow, I found it hard to believe hostility from me would keep Talib safe, so I did my best to hide it while I confronted a new reality.

My father was alive.

He was a vampire.

And he was working for Razin.

I stalled, and the revelation hit me like a gut punch, "You're Silvertongue."

"I'd say it's one of my better noms de délit [criminal aliases]." He had had so many. When I learned his name, it was Thomas. Whether or not it was different before that never mattered. Again, we blew through names with the snap of a finger. I knew my given name – I used it every day, but I sometimes wondered if he remembered his.

I shrugged in a way that hopefully looked nonchalant as I agreed. "It's fitting." I glanced at Talib, who was still unmoving on the ground. His eyes blistered with fury, and more emotion than I had ever seen him exhibit. "So what's your gift? Mind control?"

"Of sorts."

My eyes flickered behind him, half of me wishing someone on our side would burst through the leaves. The other half dreaded it.

"Oh, my sweet girl." My father's eyes had softened, flitting about my face. I brushed a tickle on my cheek, bringing my hand away to see it glistening in the limited light of the night. "My sweet Saffiya." My lower lip trembled, and he was already bringing me into his arms. I tried to fight back. He'd nearly killed Talib. I couldn't just hug him like it didn't matter. But a sudden rollover of emotion hit me, and I no longer had a choice.

I dug my head into his chest like a child, a deep sense of relief flooding me and drying any tears preparing to fall.

When I was able, I moved out of his embrace with evening breaths, and my eyes flashed into the woods once again.

"They're coming," my father informed me in a sober tone. "But we need to talk first."

The air shifted, stilling with a falsely dry air. I took another step back, closer to Talib as if I could protect him in his vulnerable state.

Where was his arm?

The Volturi were coming. My father's soldiers likely not far behind. It would be a bloodbath if only there were any blood to lose.

I could see now that Percy would not be our only loss tonight.

Thomas gave me space. We now stood a few paces apart, not as enemies, but one would not mistake us as friends were they to cross our path.

"You know, your goons wouldn't have had to kidnap me if they just told me where we were going."

He chuckled, "Your guards would not have allowed that." He wasn't wrong. "You look so grown up."

Bells went off in my head, a ringing I had not heard in three years. Deception.

"I wonder why," I commented dryly. My father was never one for discipline, and despite my young age, our relationship had been rather equal. He laughed at my comment as one would at a friend's sarcasm.

So casually, so…human that I almost believed he was.

"You know, your mother used to give me that same look." He liked reminding me about my mother. I'd been rather young when she died, and despite his faults, he loved her through her many faults. And I had little doubt she returned this till her last breath.

"She'd like him – your mate. He's a bit immature, arrogant, but that gift of his is difficult to circumvent." I frowned. He'd never even met Alec. He was baiting me, waiting for me to ask aloud the question pounding the side of my skull since I'd 'left' the club:

Where was Alec?

As stressed as I felt right now, he must be going insane. I swallowed my emotions. I needed to keep my mind steady.

"I don't want to talk about Alec."

Thomas sighed, his disappointment so evident it sent a parade of failure down my spine like muscle memory. "So predictable, Saffiya. What have I told you about predictability?"

I swallowed my pride and shame, pushing forward for what I wanted. He wanted to talk? Fine, let's talk. "I'm assuming – hoping, you abandoned me because of your newfound immortality?"

He raised an eyebrow at the sharpness of my tongue.

"Partly." He never saw the need to lie to me. I'd give him that. But it still filled my gut with an awful wrench of betrayal, like boiling tar. "When Razin turned me, he was only just beginning to set his plans in motion. Considering my gift and your talents, we planned to return when you were of age and change you then."

So, I would have always become a vampire. I almost told him it wouldn't work. All about Jane's gift, of how we'd isolate ourselves and have 'practice sessions' where I'd scream myself hoarse for a few hours. Somehow, it was worse than actually being tortured. At least, it felt like that. But I didn't tell him. I recognized the glint in my father's eyes. It set off another warning, and I felt clearer than I'd ever been.

My life was always at stake in our cons. It was always worth the risk to him. Even knowing my low chances of survival, his mind would never change. I could feel it in the goosebumps on my skin and in the weight of the burden pulling me back. He didn't care, so I kept my secrets.

"You couldn't have known I would have a gift."

A sly grin rose on his face, pretending it didn't want to be seen, "You would be surprised what we know about spotting talent in human form."

"No." I shook my head vehemently, glancing again at Talib, who refused to look at me. My father was too proud of that statement not to brag about it later – I knew that, and I might not get a chance for my own answers if he succeeded in changing the topic. "That means you left before you became a vampire."

He resigned to telling me what I wanted to hear.

"I did not intend to leave you for longer than a month, at most." He admitted, but my rising distrust refused to let me relish the fact that he didn't abandon me on purpose. He did want me.

"The Interpol agent stalking me," investigating, "connected the dots between me and Mrs. Delacourt. He was, unfortunately, an exceptional investigator." Mrs. Delacourt was a widow we'd 'played house' with for a long con. My father proposed, she loved the idea of a daughter, and when she trusted us enough to share her dead husband's prized art collection, we disappeared.

I rolled my shoulders, straightening my spine. Thomas raised his eyebrows, catching the action but did not mention it. "I needed to convince him you were a random runaway whom I'd convinced to assist me.

"I performed a few odd jobs here and there, enough to keep his attention. Until a friend of mine reached out about a client's request for an item of high value. The client being, unbeknownst to me at the time, your Volturi." I didn't miss the distaste as he called them mine. Yet, I couldn't help but feel proud of the connection.

"Victor." My knowledge surprised him. "He tried to help me escape at first, but," I debated whether to offer the information. "He…erm, he died."

My father frowned at this news, and the culprit was not in question. I couldn't deny his deduction. "He was a dear friend."

To be honest, I no longer cared.

"He said you never showed."

Thomas crossed his arms over his chest, the first hint of his true feelings as he reflected, "Interpol got a hold of me before I could join him. Fortunately, I managed to escape, but the agent was killed in the process. And I was assumed dead.

"I did return to the abbey to collect you so we could hide out until the attention waned. Thankfully, Razin found me first."

Thankfully.

"If only I had known when you ventured away to find me." Thomas chuckled, and it made my stomach twist. "I might have intercepted before you ended up in their hands."

I swallowed my hesitation, well-aware that my father was eager for my reaction. He was assessing me, gauging the depth of my relationship with the Volturi. He had to be.

"They've been good to me." I tried to stay neutral but couldn't stop myself from adding, "And I have Alec."

"The boy." Great. That was the opposite of encouraging. "I knew the day would come for you to date, as any father does, but when I learned you were mated to the Volturi's prized possession… The irony is astounding."

I chewed my words, "So I've heard."

"Are you positive it's him?" The question took me aback, but I knew exactly what he was asking. I felt the connection with Alec, but I wasn't a vampire. Alec knew, but technically the definitive proof wouldn't be had until I, too, was a vampire. So, I said,

"No."

Talib growled lowly from the edge of the clearing, but I couldn't look at him. A sly smile crept across my father's face, his eyes glinting with a quiet sense of triumph. My words were met with a subtle nod of approval.

And I knew lying had been the right move.

"Why now?"

"Why did I not come to you sooner?" Thomas interrupted, and I crossed my arms defensively. "We were not ready for you yet, and I knew you would not get too attached, as I've taught you." My father couldn't hide the satisfaction on his face. "Now, you are perfectly positioned."

We? My lips parted as the pieces from his story and the recent months I'd been putting together throughout our conversation began to simply float into place like the click of a keylock. That, and I knew my father.

"You want me to follow Razin."

"His gift is irrefutable." The passion in his voice nearly knocked me over, as intensely cult-like as Razin's other followers. It was unnerving. "I and many others have tested him and his vision. He will be an excellent ruler over both vampires and humans alike."

I scanned him suspiciously. The vampirism had only enhanced the natural poise and charm my father exuded as a human. He was less neat now, less galavanting sailor / proper businessman and with these changes and the slight stubble on his beard, he seemed more roguish, like one of Robin Hood's Merry Men. And I wondered why he didn't want a taste of the main power. Right hand man wasn't the man. Then again, between his goons and his burgundy and gold cloak, he did not appear to be lacking in much. Thomas never was.

"You're serious?"

"Why would I not be?"

"Aside from the fact that humans would rise up and annihilate your entire species – because that's what we do," I posed it as a mocking question, as I was unlikely to change his conviction. The ruthless ambition fuelling his faith in Razin could not be broken with a few critical words. Unfortunately for him, it worked both ways. "The Volturi know this, and it is why they've been in power for so long." I was talking out of nothing, some loyal urge in me to defend the Volturi through spite if not belief.

My father was quiet, scrutinizing me as he tried to find the words that would turn me. The best way to take the weaknesses I had exposed and use them against me. I didn't have the upper hand, because I had no idea how far he was willing to go.

"Those you are siding with are power hungry." Thomas chided me like a child, so I glared back like one. "They care nothing for you or your loyalty – only that it is blind and all-encompassing."

"And Razin isn't starving for power?" I challenged calmly. "At least the Volturi –"

"Didyme."

The name caught me off guard, which pleased him. My father leaned leisurely against a tree as I struggled to place it before he took control of the argument.

"Marcus's mate?"

"And Aro's sister."

I huffed. How could this possibly be relevant at a time like this. "What about her? She's been dead for hundreds of years."

"Do you know how she died?" I rubbed my temple, growing frustrated with his side chatter.

"I think she was murdered? What does it matter –"

"It matters," Thomas pushed off from the tree with a displeased grunt and reappeared over my shoulder, "because Aro is the one that did it."