Page 68 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

“Like I’ve had a bath in blood? Yes.”

Maxwell stepped towards the car.

“Greaves was already dead when I arrived,” I said, repeating exactly what I’d already told him on the phone. I tensed, a part of me prepared for him not to believe me. To suspect this could be a cover-up for a murder I’d committed in bloodlust.

But Maxwell only hummed, rounding the vehicle and using his torch to illuminate the carnage within. “You weren’t exaggerating. This is… excessive. And certainly personal, what with the circumstances, I agree. But any idea—”

The roar of a motorcycle cut him off. Kit’s massive black bike rolled in with Rory—a surprise addition—clinging to his back. I resisted pinching the bridge of my nose by a hair’s breadth.Perfect. Just perfect.

Rory yanked off his helmet, golden hair sticking up in all directions. His eyes landed on Maxwell and narrowed. “Oh brilliant. Detective Dickface is here.”

“Rory,” Kit warned, but Maxwell was already straightening up.

“That’s DetectiveInspectorDickface to you, pup.”

“Both of you, shut it,” I snapped. “We have a dead body and a potential crisis. Your petty feud can wait.”

Kit stepped between them, the perpetual peacekeeper. “What’s our next move?”

“There’s an unfortunate angle to consider, Kit.” I shifted, the blood-soaked tissues heavy in my pocket. “I’ve… compromised the scene.”

Maxwell’s torch beam swung towards me, intensifying the moment.

Kit frowned at me. “What?”

“I… licked the blood. From his clothes.”

“Youwhat?” Kit’s face twisted.

“I couldn’t help it.” The admission tasted bitter. Kit had developed an enormous amount of respect for me over the years, and I couldn’t bear to see that faith crumble. “There was so much of it, and I haven’t fed properly in—”

“Oh, brilliant.” Rory bounced on his heels. “Easy fix then. We torch the car.”

“We are not setting fire to evidence.” Maxwell scowled at him. “This is a crime scene.”

“A crime scene with vampire DNA all over it.” Rory rolled his eyes. “Unless you fancy explaining to your forensics team why there’s hundreds-year-old Spanish nobleman mixed in with the vic’s blood?”

“I’ll have to erase Sebastián from the data after we’ve processed the scene,” saidMaxwell.

Kit placed a steadying hand on my shoulder. I hadn’t realised I was swaying.

“What? Why risk anything?” Rory threw up his hands. “Why don’t we drive the car somewhere else? Have a proper look at it all.”

Maxwell’s voice grew sharper. “That’s still tampering with evidence. Which, need I remind you, is also a crime?”

“Everything we do is technically a crime, mate.” Rory grinned. “It’s kind of our thing.”

“I am not yourmate.” Maxwell jabbed a finger at him. “We’re following some semblance of procedure here. This dead man has a family.”

“Procedure?” Rory’s laugh held no humour. “Funny how that’s your favourite word—”

“Rory, shut up.” Kit’s voice carried a hint of a growl. “I mean it.”

I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to focus through the hunger still clawing at my insides. Maxwell’s mention of the family Greaves had left behind twisted something dark and familiar in my chest. No, I might not have directly killed Greaves—but he was dead through association.

Another family destroyed. Another set of lives shattered because they’d wandered too close to my orbit. The faces blurred together across the centuries—widows, orphans, parents burying children. Always my fault, my presence that brought destruction. And at the heart of it all, Magdalena’s face, eternally young, eternally accusing. Five centuries later, and I was still the same monster who’d condemned his own sister.

It wouldn’t matter how many lives Killigrew Street saved, in the end the ledger would always run red. Centuries of blood that could never be washed clean.

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