WAR OF THE FATED MATES

Aria Vale’s POV The music didn’t match the tension in the air. Strings hummed sweetly from the orchestra perched above the glass ballroom, their melody old and elegant. Crystalline laughter drifted through the lavishly dressed guests who sipped scarlet wine and exchanged coded glances behind jeweled masks. The elite of New Avalon—vampires cloaked in power and humans drunk in proximity—danced beneath the artificial moonlight projected onto the high, domed ceiling. And I watched them from below. My fingers tightened around the steel railing of the service tunnel under the glass tower, the hum of energy in the air sinking into my skin like static. This wasn’t my world anymore—if it ever had been. But tonight wasn’t about revenge. It was instinct. A tug I couldn’t explain. A voice without sound that had whispered one command for days: Come here. “You ready?” Talon’s voice came low and steady through the comm bead in my ear. “As I’ll ever be,” I muttered, eyes flicking upward. Through the c***k in the floor panels, I caught a glimpse of spinning silk dresses and sharp smiles. “Where’s our opening?” “Thirty seconds. Third pillar. After the violinist hits the crescendo.” I nodded to myself and took a deep breath. Something curled in my chest—nerves, maybe. Or something older. My muscles twitched as if my body remembered how to fight even if my mind had forgotten everything. When I launched myself upward, it felt like muscle memory. Like I’d done this a thousand times before. The glass cracked under my boots. Screams shattered the air. The moment I emerged from the floor into the gala, chaos snapped into motion. Gas grenades hissed along the marble edges of the room. Red smoke billowed, swallowing the grandeur in seconds. Vampires shrieked, guests stumbled in confusion, and guards rushed to corners barking orders. I didn’t wait. I weaved between shadows, my body guided by some primal rhythm. One vampire lunged toward me, fangs bared. I ducked beneath his swing and slammed my elbow into his throat. He dropped, choking, but I was already moving. “Too easy,” I muttered under my breath. A woman in green velvet tried to run. She slipped in her heels and fell. I kept moving. There was a figure ahead, tall and unmoving amidst the storm—cloaked in black, facing away. His presence hit me before I even reached him. Cold and electric. My chest squeezed. I stepped forward. My foot slid across the shattered crystal. He turned. And everything stopped. Crimson eyes. High cheekbones. The sharp set of his jawline. He was beautiful in a way that was unnatural—too precise, too still. But it wasn’t just that. I knew him. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know why. But my knees almost buckled from the weight of recognition that crashed over me. He froze, too. His eyes widened, and for a heartbeat, he looked like someone who’d seen a ghost. “You,” he breathed, almost like it hurt. “Do I—?” I swallowed. “Do I know you?” A flicker of emotion passed through his face. He took a hesitant step toward me like he was afraid I might vanish. Then an explosion rocked the west side of the ballroom. Flames licked the velvet curtains. More screams rose. The roof creaked under the pressure, and the air shimmered with magic now—raw, old, angry. “Move!” someone shouted. A body slammed into me from behind, sending me forward—straight into him. He caught me by instinct, hands gripping my waist. Electricity arced through my skin, crawling under it like lightning. His hands were cold. My blood burned. Our eyes met. I didn’t pull away. His gaze dropped to my lips for the briefest second before he exhaled, ragged and shaken. “I thought you were dead,” he said quietly, like a confession. “I wish I remembered enough to care,” I snapped, but it came out softer than I intended. The confusion was starting to fog my head. Who was he? Why did he feel like mine? A scream tore through the noise. High. Young. Terrified. I twisted toward the sound. So did he. Through the haze of smoke, I saw her. Just for a moment—a girl darting between the chaos, face turned in our direction. She looked no older than twelve. Wild black curls framed her delicate face. Her eyes—my breath caught. Golden. But glowing faintly red. I stumbled back, heart racing. “She—” I started. He said nothing. His eyes were locked on the same girl. Then she disappeared into the crowd, swallowed by smoke and panic. My pulse thundered in my ears. I turned to him. “What the hell was that?” “I don’t know,” he whispered. But he did. I could see it in the way his expression shuttered completely. “You shouldn’t be here, Aria.” My name on his lips made me flinch. It didn’t feel wrong. It felt too right. “You know me,” I said, voice hardening. “Yes.” “But I don’t know you.” “That’s not your fault.” I didn’t have time to question him further. Guards were moving in from all sides now, red uniforms cutting through the smoke. He glanced over his shoulder, jaw tightening. “I can’t protect you here.” “I don’t need protection.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You don’t understand what’s happening. You’ve been gone too long.” “Then tell me.” His hand brushed mine, barely a touch. “Later.” I wasn’t ready for the way I leaned into it. I didn’t trust him, not really. But some part of me knew him. My body remembered what my mind couldn’t. The floor cracked beneath us again. The magic in the room grew heavier, like something old and hungry had stirred. Lucien turned sharply. Guards shouted. One pointed directly at us. “Blackthorn! Get away from her!” Lucien cursed. “You’re him,” I whispered. “Lucien Blackthorn.” His expression twisted. “It’s not safe here.” “I can handle myself.” “You used to,” he said. “But I don’t know what they did to you.” “Who’s they?” “Your sister. The council. All of them.” More explosions rocked the structure. Glass shattered. Somewhere behind us, a chandelier crashed to the floor. Lucien’s breath came faster. His hands trembled slightly. His curse was rising—I could feel the magic clawing beneath his skin. A pressure built in the air around him, heavy and electric. “I can’t hold it back much longer,” he said. “Hold what back?” His eyes met mine, blood-red and glowing now with violent intensity. “The curse. If I lose control, I’ll bring this whole building down.” I should’ve stepped away. Should’ve run. But I stayed. His fingers brushed my face—just once. “You were never meant to survive this night.”