"Victoria." Her name tore out of me as I dropped to my knees beside her, blood already spreading across the stone floor beneath her shoulder.
"She's breathing," Lucien said, pressing his hand against the wound, his voice tight with controlled urgency. "Marcus, we need help in here now."
Bartholomew stood frozen near the doorway, the weapon still smoking in his hand, something almost like shock passing across his face before it hardened back into cold resolve.
"She betrayed me," he said quietly. "There's a price for that, regardless of blood."
"You shot your own granddaughter," I said, fury and grief tangling together as I pressed my hands against Victoria's shoulder alongside Lucien's, trying to stem the bleeding.
"A mistake," Bartholomew said, though his voice carried no genuine regr
