Victoria's POV
Just then, the man at the head of the long, blood-soaked table stirred.
Slowly, he lifted his head from the woman’s bleeding breast. Her sigh was one of contentment—as if feeding a monster was the most natural thing in the world. His movements were unhurried, deliberate. The kind that said he didn’t need to rush, because everything in this room already belonged to him.
He didn’t look at me at first.
No—his eyes, dark as ink and colder than the grave, drifted lazily toward the red-haired twins. But even that sideways glance made my bones tremble. There was something sickeningly familiar about him.
He didn’t look at me first. His blood-slicked lips were parted, crimson trailing down his chin. His cold, predator gaze turned to the two redheads standing beside me.
The hig
