The council chamber sat beneath Vienna’s old imperial district inside a cathedral no longer marked on modern maps.

No signs.

No records.

Just six stories of forgotten stone buried beneath the city while governments aboveground continued pretending monsters belonged exclusively to folklore and tax policy.

Seraphina stood beside Lucien near the center of the chamber floor trying very hard not to look impressed.

Unfortunately, the architecture was aggressively dramatic.

Black marble.

Cathedral arches disappearing into darkness overhead.

Ancient chandeliers burning silver-blue instead of gold.

Every sound echoed too long, as though the room itself enjoyed intimidation as a design philosophy.

“Why do immortal people decorate everything like haunted opera villains?” she muttered quietly.

Lucien adjusted one cufflink without looking at her.

“Centuries of unresolved emotional issues.”

“That’s the most self-aware thing you’ve ever said.”

A faint almost-smile appeared briefly again.

God.

Those were becoming dangerous.

The council chamber slowly filled around them as members of the Night Houses arrived one by one through different stone entrances.

Old vampires moved differently from younger ones.

Less performance.

More gravity.

Some glanced toward Lucien with obvious caution.

Others looked directly at Seraphina and immediately hardened.

Interesting.

“She’s the hunter.”

“She smells like Blackthorn.”

“Why is she here?”

“Lucien brought her.”

That last sentence carried weight.

Not gossip.

Political concern.

Seraphina folded her arms loosely while tracking exits automatically.

Lucien noticed.

“You’re preparing for violence.”

“I walked into an underground vampire senate meeting.”

“Fair.”

At the far end of the chamber, elevated black seats curved into a half-circle beneath ancient House crests carved directly into the stone walls.

Council members took positions slowly.

House Vespertilio.

House Nocturne.

House Vale.

Seraphina recognized several names from classified Order archives.

Every single one looked at her like a loaded weapon someone irresponsibly left on the table.

A tall silver-haired woman seated near the center finally broke the silence.

“You brought a hunter into sacred territory.”

Lucien remained calm beside her.

“She came under my protection.”

“That was not authorized.”

“Neither was the massacre in Prague.”

The chamber quieted slightly afterward.

The silver-haired woman’s expression sharpened.

Lady Morvena.

Seraphina recognized her now.

One of the oldest surviving political figures in Eastern vampire society.

Dangerous enough that Blackthorn intelligence once classified her as “avoid direct confrontation unless national collapse already occurring.”

Comforting.

Morvena’s gaze drifted slowly toward Seraphina.

Cold.

Evaluating.

“You killed three of our kind last winter in Budapest.”

Seraphina blinked once.

“That’s oddly specific.”

“I remember funerals.”

Fair point.

Lucien stepped slightly closer beside her.

Subtle.

Protective.

The movement did not go unnoticed.

Several council members exchanged immediate glances afterward.

One older vampire leaned forward slowly from the upper seats.

“You’re compromised.”

The accusation wasn’t aimed at Seraphina.

At Lucien.

Interesting.

Lucien’s expression didn’t change.

“You mistake tolerance for weakness again.”

“No,” another council member said sharply. “We mistake obsession for stupidity.”

The atmosphere in the chamber tightened instantly after that.

Seraphina glanced sideways toward Lucien.

His posture remained perfectly controlled.

But the room had clearly touched something personal.

Morvena rested one pale hand lightly against the council table.

“The hunter cannot remain here.”

Lucien’s voice stayed calm.

“She knows about the relic program.”

Murmurs spread sharply across the chamber.

Real reaction this time.

Fear.

Not performance.

One council member cursed quietly in Romanian beneath his breath.

Another stood immediately.

“How much does the Church know?”

Lucien’s attention remained fixed on the council.

“Enough to continue operations.”

“And Blackthorn?”

Seraphina answered before Lucien could.

“I didn’t know any of it.”

The room shifted toward her again.

Thirty pairs of ancient predator eyes focusing simultaneously should have felt terrifying.

Oddly enough, after the last several weeks, it mostly felt exhausting.

Morvena studied her carefully.

“You expect us to believe the daughter of Evelyne Van Helsing walked blindly through Church corruption?”

There it was again.

Her mother’s name changing rooms.

Seraphina lifted her chin slightly.

“I expect nothing from you.”

A faint expression crossed Lucien’s face beside her.

Not surprise.

Approval.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

One younger council member laughed sharply.

“She sounds exactly like Blackthorn.”

“And you sound exactly like a politician,” Seraphina replied.

Several vampires visibly tried not to react to that.

Cassian, standing near the back wall, looked seconds away from choking to death suppressing amusement.

Morvena’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully afterward.

“She has spirit.”

“She has silver weapons,” another councilor snapped. “There’s a meaningful difference.”

The political atmosphere deteriorated rapidly after that.

Voices overlapping.

Arguments rising.

Several council members openly demanded Seraphina’s execution before Blackthorn tracked the sanctuary.

Others argued the Church experiments posed larger threats than one compromised hunter.

Through all of it, Lucien remained motionless beside her.

Listening.

Watching.

Calculating.

Seraphina became aware suddenly of how isolated he looked up there.

Not alone.

Worse.

Responsible.

Like everyone in the chamber expected him to solve problems they feared touching themselves.

One council member finally stood fully from his seat.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

Ancient enough that power seemed to bend naturally around him.

House Vale.

Seraphina remembered the name from Order files involving Balkan disappearances and three collapsed governments.

Wonderful.

“She cannot stay,” he said flatly. “Kill her now before sentiment becomes catastrophe.”

The chamber quieted again.

Lucien looked toward him slowly.

“And if I refuse?”

House Vale’s expression hardened.

“Then perhaps the council should revisit whether you remain fit to lead.”

There it was.

The real conversation.

Not Seraphina.

Power.

Lucien had brought a hunter into sanctuary territory and the council smelled vulnerability.

Political predators worked exactly like every other kind.

Seraphina glanced sideways toward him.

Lucien looked completely calm.

Which, at this point, she recognized as deeply dangerous.

“You’re making this worse,” she murmured quietly.

“I’m aware.”

“You could simply let them exile me.”

Lucien finally looked toward her fully then.

The room around them blurred slightly beneath the weight of that attention.

“No,” he said softly.

Simple answer.

Absolute answer.

The council noticed too.

Morvena leaned back slowly in her chair.

“Lucien.”

Warning in her voice now.

Ancient warning.

Lucien turned back toward the chamber.

And for the first time since entering, something colder entered his expression.

Not anger.

Authority.

The kind old wars built into people permanently.

“You invoke Night Law,” Morvena realized quietly.

The chamber went completely silent.

Seraphina frowned slightly.

“What’s Night Law?”

Nobody answered immediately.

Several council members looked genuinely alarmed now.

House Vale stood abruptly.

“No.”

Lucien ignored him.

His voice echoed calmly through the cathedral chamber.

“Under Night Law,” he said, “Seraphina Van Helsing stands under my claim and protection.”

The silence afterward felt enormous.

Not because the words sounded loud.

Because everyone understood them.

Seraphina definitely did not.

Unfortunately, her body noticed the shift anyway.

Every vampire in the chamber suddenly looked at her differently.

Not prey anymore.

Something worse.

Political.

Cassian closed his eyes briefly near the back wall.

“Oh, this is going to become a disaster.”

Seraphina looked sharply toward Lucien.

“What exactly did you just do?”

Lucien met her gaze steadily.

“Prevented them from killing you.”

“That’s not a full explanation.”

“No,” he admitted softly. “It really isn’t.”