POV Natalie
Well, apparently I’m banned. Not exiled, which means I get to keep breathing, but banned, which means I’m officially homeless and family-less. Could be worse, honestly. Could be dead.
The distinction matters more than you’d think. Exiled vampires go insane within months—something about being cut off from the collective consciousness of the coven drives them to walk into the sunrise like it’s calling their name. Banned just means I’m persona non grata, unwelcome at family dinners and coven meetings, but with my sanity intact.
I’ll take it.
I walk out of the Crimson Coven compound with Avery beside me, and it’s weird how liberated I feel. Like I’ve been carrying this massive weight for fifty-three years and someone just cut the chains. My shoulders feel lighter, my steps springier. Even the air tastes different—cleaner, somehow.
The compound looks smaller from the outside, less imposing. All those years of being terrified of disappointing the ancient assholes inside, and now I’m walking away from it like it’s just another building. Which, I guess, it is.
“So,” I say, looking at Avery as we cross the territory line, “you’re a rogue now, and I’m… whatever the fuck I am.”
“See what love does?” she says, but she’s smiling when she says it. That smile that makes my chest do stupid fluttery things, the one that convinced me to risk everything in the first place.
I laugh—actually laugh—because the absurdity of it all is kind of beautiful. Two supernatural creatures who burned their lives to the ground for each other, walking into an uncertain future with nothing but whatever’s in our pockets and the clothes on our backs.
“Well, I don’t recommend it. Terrible for your health and social standing.”
“Worth it, though?”
“Ask me in a year when we’re not running for our lives.”
The truth is, I already know the answer. Even if we die tomorrow, even if this whole thing crashes and burns spectacularly, I’d rather have one day of being authentically myself than fifty-three more years of being the perfect disappointment.
We’re maybe fifty yards from the compound when Joanna appears from the treeline like some kind of psychic ninja. She’s been crying—I can smell the salt from here—but she’s also smiling. The combination makes her look younger, more vulnerable than the tough werewolf warrior I’ve gotten to know.
“I’m glad you followed your heart,” she says to Avery, voice thick with emotion. “Glad you did what you wanted instead of listening to everyone else tell you who to be.”
“Joanna—”
“You’re my greatest role model,” she continues, and now I’m the one getting emotional because the love between these sisters is so pure it makes my dead heart ache. “You chose yourself. You chose love. You chose to be brave when everyone else was choosing to be afraid.”
Avery hugs her sister like she’s trying to transfer some of her strength through physical contact. “Just because I’m a rogue now doesn’t mean you don’t have me. You’ll always have me.”
“I know,” Joanna whispers. “But it still sucks.”
“Yeah,” Avery agrees. “It really does.”
They hold each other for a long moment, and I look away because this feels too private, too sacred for outsiders to witness. The forest around us is quiet except for the rustle of leaves and the distant sound of night creatures going about their business, completely oblivious to the fact that two women are saying goodbye to their old lives.
I think about my own family—the vampires who raised me, who shaped me, who will probably never speak to me again. The thought should hurt more than it does. Maybe it will later, when the adrenaline wears off and the reality of what I’ve lost really sinks in.
But right now, watching Avery hold her sister, I feel something I haven’t felt in decades: hope.
“Take care of yourself,” Avery says finally. “And don’t let Father turn you into something you’re not.”
“I won’t,” Joanna promises. “I learned from the best.”
And then she’s gone, disappearing back into the trees, leaving us alone with our choices and their consequences.
“Ready for this?” Avery asks.
“Ready for what? Homelessness? Exile? Being cast out by everyone we’ve ever known?”
“Adventure,” she says, and her grin is infectious. “Freedom. The chance to build something that’s actually ours.”
I look at her—this incredible woman who gave up everything for me—and realize she’s right. For the first time in my existence, I’m not trying to live up to anyone else’s expectations. I’m not disappointing anyone because there’s no one left to disappoint.
The night stretches ahead of us, full of possibilities and dangers and the kind of uncertainty that would have terrified me a month ago. Now it feels like the beginning of something real.
“Yeah,” I say, taking her hand. “I’m ready.”