Damon's POV
The table before me was a map soaked in centuries of blood.
Each marker I placed represented a royal vampire stronghold. Each red-stained line carved through the paper was the path I would take to paint the world in death and submission. The candlelight flickered over the parchments like dancing shadows of the dead yet to fall.
"Kill the king," I muttered, pressing a dagger into the parchment where the royal court resided. "Slaughter his kin. Burn the bloodline."
A slow, wicked smile stretched my lips. That was all it would take. One decisive, annihilating blow. Vampires were sheep in tailored coats, grazing under the illusion of power. Without their monarchs, without their sacred royals, they'd collapse—spineless, directionless. And when that happened, I'd be the only sovereign standing.
