Chapter 2 #2
I shifted closer to the railing near the observation platform, arms crossed, eyes glued to the sparring match below.
Con was untouchable—calm, relentless, his movements fluid and exact.
He didn’t waste a single motion. The twins were fast, faster than most fledglings I’d seen, their human discipline bleeding seamlessly into their new vampiric reflexes. But they still couldn’t touch him.
Footsteps echoed down the stairwell behind me—measured, confident strides that could only belong to seasoned death dealers.
Val and Quinn emerged first, both dressed in combat leathers, their movements carrying the effortless poise of warriors long accustomed to danger.
Val’s dark hair was slicked back, the gleam of his weapons belt catching the light.
Quinn, always immaculate, looked like he’d stepped straight out of a recruitment campaign—tall, impossibly handsome, his pale-blue eyes taking everything in with quiet calculation.
“Didn’t expect to find Constantine playing with fledglings,” Val said, his tone teasing as he came to stand beside me.
I smirked. “Playing isn’t the word I’d use. More like dismantling.”
Quinn’s gaze flicked toward the ring, his lips twitching in amusement. “Nobody likes a show-off.”
“He doesn’t need to,” I said. “They’re good. Better than they should be at this stage.”
Val tilted his head, studying the spar. “Darius and Duke. Rene’s last sponsorship.”
I nodded. “He saw something in them.”
“Apparently so,” Val murmured, his eyes narrowing as one of the twins barely dodged a sweep that would’ve cracked ribs. “If they’re this good as fledglings…” He smiled. “I can’t wait to see what they look like in fifty years.”
Before I could answer, more footsteps joined the symphony of metal and motion.
Vance and Zeke entered from the adjoining corridor, flanking a third figure—a woman I recognized at first glance.
Her auburn hair was braided tightly back, her lean frame clad in Shadow Skull’s black-and-gray leathers.
The silver insignia stitched into her shoulder confirmed an Alaskan death dealer.
“Lilah,” I greeted, straightening as they approached. “Didn’t expect to see anyone from Shadow Skull for another month.”
Her eyes were keen and clear, her voice calm. “They sent me early. Said I’d be of better use here while the conclave’s in session.”
“Good timing,” Val said. “You’re just in time to watch the rookies.”
Vance leaned on the railing beside me, his sandy hair disheveled from what was probably a halfhearted patrol. “Rookies, huh?” he said, tone lazy but with that familiar edge of condescension he never quite managed to hide. “Looks more like a slaughter.”
Zeke snorted. “They can’t even touch him. If that’s the best the new generation has to offer, we might as well start recruiting gymnasts.”
I shot him a look. “Careful, Zeke. They’re fledglings, not miracles.”
“Same difference,” he muttered. “If they can’t land a hit now, they won’t in a century.”
Down in the ring, Con deflected another strike with a quick turn of his hand, spinning the spear around his back so fast it blurred into a silver arc.
Duke barely had time to drop before Con’s weapon stopped an inch from his throat.
Darius froze mid-motion, realizing too late that he’d exposed his flank.
Con stepped back, as composed as ever, and gestured for them to reset.
Lilah watched in silence, her expression unreadable. “They have control,” she said finally. “That’s rare for new blood. I’ve seen elders with less coordination.”
“Agreed,” Val said. “Give them time, and they’ll be a force worth reckoning with.”
Quinn chuckled softly. “If Con doesn’t break them first.”
Zeke smirked, clearly unimpressed. “Or they’ll break themselves trying to impress him.”
Vance nodded, tone mocking. “Not much point in skill if you never learn humility. Constantine’s good at reminding people where they belong.”
I turned toward them, my patience thinning. “They belong in this clan,” I said. “Same as you. Same as me. And they’ve already earned that more honorably than half the dealers in this room.”
The silence that followed was fierce enough to cut.
Zeke looked away first, muttering something under his breath. Val’s smile widened slightly, the kind that said I told you so without a word.
Below us, the twins had reset their stance, breath steady, eyes locked on Con. Despite the bruises and fatigue dragging at their movements, they were still pushing—still learning.
Darius feinted left, Duke countered from the right, their rhythm near-perfect. Con parried both with one motion and swept the nearest spear aside, disarming Darius in a single elegant twist.
And then—for the first time—Duke’s spear connected. A glancing hit against Con’s shoulder, barely enough to bruise, but enough to surprise him.
Con’s eyes flashed gold. Then he smiled, a real one this time, slow and bright.
“Better,” he said.
Val leaned in beside me, voice low. “Fifty years, Cass. I told you. They’ll be something extraordinary.”
I watched the twins reset once more, sweat beading on their temples, determination burning in their eyes.
“Maybe sooner than that,” I murmured.
And as Con moved again—swift, unstoppable, the embodiment of every warrior’s legend—I saw the flicker of the future in the ring before me. Two fledglings learning from a living weapon. Two soldiers who might, one day, carry the weight of an empire.
If they survived him first.