I barely sleep that night. Even after Dron hangs up, the numbness stays. The rain has stopped but the storm inside me hasn’t. I stare at the ceiling of my room, painted with tiny cracks I never noticed until now, and wonder how I could've been so blind. 
   My father’s face, the way it twisted in the memory Aurora described... won’t leave my mind.
He killed her parents. And I had no idea.
   When the sun rises, I don’t feel the warmth. I feel like a shadow of myself as I walk through the ancient halls of our estate. The portraits of past vampire lords seem to judge me as I pass, as though they know what I’m about to do. What I have to do.
    He’s in his study. Of course. Always behind those dark oak doors, plotting, reading, controlling. I don’t knock. I push the door open so hard it slams against the wall.
   My father looks up slowly from his desk, eyes gleaming crimson beneath the golden candlelight.
   "Arc," he says, voice calm as ever. "You look like hell."
"You are hell," I snap.
He cocks a brow but doesn’t rise. "Is this your attempt at poetic rebellion?"
   "You killed her parents," I breathe, my voice shaking.
   His fingers pause on the edge of a page. "I've killed many. Be more specific."
Disgust rises in my chest for him.
  "Mavilla and Bruce." For a moment, split second, I see an emotion I've never seen on my father in his eyes. Fear.
   "Ohh... Them. Everyone knows I killed them."
   "You are a very disgusting man."
"Come up with something better. Moreover, who is this 'she' you keep mentioning?"
"My mate." 
"Boy, stop playing. Vampires don't have mates." 
   "I have a mate and you have gone and ruined everything just because you couldn't keep your sword to yourself."
   "Oh... She told you that?"
   "No. She saw. You didn’t even have the decency to deny it."
He sighs and finally stands. "It was war. We do things in war we don’t like."
   "They weren’t soldiers. They were her parents."
He walks around the desk slowly, his towering figure the same as always but for the first time, I don’t flinch. "You’re a vampire, Arc. You forget that too easily. You were meant to be their enemy, not their savior."
"I didn’t choose that war!"
   "And yet you benefit from its peace. From my decisions."
"You murdered a Lycan.The most powerful Lycan of her generation. You created the mess we’re in now."
His face twitches. A rare crack in his armor. "They were dangerous and they are with the werewolves who hate us just as much."
   "No. You were. And now she hates me. Because of you."
For a moment, there’s silence. Then he says, quieter than I expect, "You care for her."
    "I love her," I spit. "And I will never forgive you for what you did."
His gaze hardens. "Then you’re weak."
   "No. I’m stronger than you ever were. Because I feel. Because I won’t let your sins define me."
    He doesn’t say a word as I turn and walk away, rage and heartbreak threatening to shatter me in every step. I hear the distant echo of the door slamming behind me, like the sound of a past I refuse to be part of anymore.
***
     The Vampire Council holds its meetings in the oldest chamber beneath the city, a cathedral-like space carved into the stone, dripping with the echoes of centuries. I’ve only been summoned here twice before in my life. But this time, I come uninvited.
    Dron walks beside me, silent but tense. He doesn’t try to stop me.
The doors part as we approach. Inside, the Council members turn to look at us with tired, ancient faces. Lord Venholm sits at the head, his silver hair coiled around a crown of thorns.
"Arc Xandin," he announces, voice like gravel, "you are not scheduled to-"
   "This can’t wait," I interrupt. "I have a grievance against my father."
Murmurs ripple through the chamber.
   My father, seated two chairs down from Venholm, narrows his eyes. "You dare bring family matters into the Council chamber?"
"This isn’t just family. This is murder."
   I step into the circle, heart pounding. "Years ago, my father executed two unarmed Werewolves - Mavilla and Bruce - a couple that weren't part of the army. Without Council consent. Without cause beyond his own fear."
   Venholm’s face tightens. "You bring serious accusations, young Xandin."
   "I bring the truth. He confessed it to me."
My father rises, his voice steady, venomous. "They were threats. The war demanded sacrifice."
   "You killed a woman who wasn’t even fighting! A mother! A man who was also trying to protect his mate! You tore a family apart and now you expect forgiveness?"
   Venholm leans forward. "Is this true, Lord Xandin?"
My father hesitates. That’s all it takes.
    "We will investigate. However, you need to remember that at the time he killed them, the werewolves and Vampires had no laws protecting them against each other." Venholm declares. "But should it be proven that you acted outside the Council’s law-"
   "You will be stripped of your title and exiled," another council member finishes.
   My father looks at me with fury but beneath it, I see something else. Something that almost resembles fear.
I don’t feel victorious. I feel empty.
   When we leave the chamber, Dron touches my shoulder. "You did the right thing."
I nod, but it feels like I’ve just started a war of my own and I don’t know if I’ll survive it.
Still… for her, I’d go through hell.