The summit chamber stayed silent for exactly three seconds after Killian spoke.

Three long seconds where nobody moved.

Nobody breathed.

Nobody seemed capable of understanding what they had just witnessed.

The legendary Alpha King of Blackwood still knelt at the foot of Eva’s throne with one hand wrapped around her boot while the shattered remains of supernatural politics burned quietly around them.

And somehow—

The room felt smaller now.

Like the throne itself had become the center of gravity.

Tiberius recovered first.

Rage finally broke through the old vampire’s composure completely.

“You pathetic animal.”

The words cracked violently across the chamber.

Killian looked toward him lazily from where he knelt.

Wrong reaction.

The old vampire lord’s face twisted harder.

“You throw away centuries of Alpha sovereignty for a creature bred from cursed blood?”

Eva’s fingers remained loosely threaded through Killian’s hair.

Not possessive anymore.

Worse.

Comfortable.

Like touching him belonged there naturally.

Tiberius noticed too.

And something inside him snapped.

“You disgrace this summit.”

The silver rapier flashed upward instantly.

Fast.

Ancient vampire fast.

Several council members shouted warnings too late as Tiberius lunged straight toward the throne platform with murder burning openly across his face.

“DIE!”

Killian moved instinctively.

So did every death guard in the chamber.

None of them reached her first.

Eva didn’t even blink.

That part haunted Marcus later.

Not the violence.

Not the blood.

The complete absence of effort.

Tiberius reached the throne steps with the silver rapier aimed directly toward her throat—

And Eva caught the blade barehanded.

The chamber froze.

Silver steel stopped inches from her skin while her pale fingers wrapped calmly around the weapon hard enough to halt the strike completely.

No recoil.

No struggle.

Just complete control.

Tiberius’s expression shattered instantly.

Impossible.

The old vampire tried wrenching the blade free.

It didn’t move.

Eva looked at the silver weapon between them almost thoughtfully.

Then slowly lifted her eyes toward him.

Disappointment.

Actual disappointment.

“You should’ve stayed seated.”

Tiberius snarled and released the rapier immediately, his free hand already moving beneath his coat toward another hidden weapon.

Too slow.

Eva stood.

The throne platform exploded beneath her movement.

One second she remained seated.

The next—

Her hand punched straight through Tiberius’s chest.

The sound silenced the world.

Wet.

Heavy.

Final.

The old vampire lord stopped moving instantly.

Eva’s arm remained buried deep inside his ribcage while blood spread slowly across the front of his expensive black suit.

The council chamber stared in absolute horror.

Tiberius looked down.

Not at the blood.

At her hand inside his chest.

His mouth opened slightly.

Nothing came out.

Eva leaned closer.

Close enough that only the nearest council members heard her voice.

“You financed wars for profit,” she said softly. “Now die from one.”

Then she ripped upward.

Bone cracked violently.

Blood sprayed across the marble steps and throne platform while Eva tore the ancient vampire’s heart directly from his chest in one brutal motion.

The body collapsed immediately afterward.

Dead before it hit the floor.

The summit chamber broke.

Several delegates screamed.

One witch fainted outright.

The younger vampire houses stumbled backward so quickly chairs overturned across the marble behind them.

Marcus watched a northern Alpha physically drop to one knee without seeming aware he’d done it.

Fear.

Pure instinctive fear.

Killian remained exactly where he was beneath the throne.

Watching her.

Always watching her.

Blood dripped slowly from Eva’s fingers onto the marble floor while the dead vampire heart still twitched faintly in her hand beneath the council lights.

No one moved against her.

No one even considered it now.

Because suddenly the entire summit understood something terrifying all at once:

This was not politics anymore.

This was monarchy.

Ancient.

Violent.

Absolute.

Eva looked down at the twitching heart briefly.

Then toward the remaining council elders.

The crimson glow beneath her eyes sharpened softly.

“Does anyone else,” she asked calmly, “have concerns about territorial law?”

Nobody answered.

One by one—

The council members started kneeling.

Not dramatically.

Not ceremonially.

Instinctively.

Predators recognizing a larger predator.

The witch elders dropped first.

Then the younger vampire houses.

Then finally even the Alpha leaders lowered themselves slowly beneath the throne platform while blood from Tiberius’s corpse spread across the marble floor between them.

Marcus exhaled slowly through his nose.

Jesus Christ.

She just conquered the supernatural summit in under an hour.

Malakai looked unsurprised.

Of course he did.

The death guards lowered their weapons in perfect unison behind the throne while the chamber settled into horrified silence broken only by the storm still raging faintly outside the shattered summit doors.

Eva finally looked down at Killian again.

He still knelt beneath her exactly where she left him.

Silver eyes lifted toward her calmly.

No fear.

No regret.

Just that same terrible devotion still burning openly beneath the bond connecting them.

His wolf looked almost peaceful now.

That affected her more than the violence had.

Dangerous realization.

Killian saw it happen too.

The tiny pause.

The fractional shift beneath her expression.

Softness trying to exist where it absolutely should not.

Eva’s gaze hardened immediately afterward.

Good.

Better.

The room would survive fear.

It would not survive discovering she cared.

The ancient heart in her hand finally stopped twitching.

Without looking away from Killian, Eva let the ruined organ fall beside Tiberius’s corpse with a wet sound against the marble floor.

Then slowly—

Elegantly—

She reached for the white ceremonial cloth draped across the throne arm.

The fabric contrasted sharply against the blood coating her hand.

Eva wiped her fingers clean carefully.

Like the execution itself had been administrative.

Necessary.

Nothing more.

The chamber watched in complete silence.

And somewhere beneath the throne platform—

Killian’s wolf looked at the blood on her hands and thought only one thing.

Beautiful.