#Chapter 195: Fracture

The first assassination hit the airwaves before dawn. A vampire elder from House Ulivar, found staked in the gardens outside the Council House with her fangs shattered and a werewolf rune scorched into her chest. Within the hour, two more were confirmed: both members of the moderate faction, both known supporters of the peace summit. The footage was grainy and quiet, as if even the anchors couldn’t bring themselves to fully name what was happening. I watched the broadcast in the infirmary lounge, curled sideways on the couch with a pressure cuff around my arm and an IV feeding something metallic and cold into my veins. The volume was muted, but I didn’t need sound to understand what I was seeing. Words like extremist, civil unrest, and retaliation crawled across the bottom of the screen while images of silver-bladed protest banners filled the frame. The ache in my body was slow and chemical, but underneath it was a second tension, tight and cold and sinking deeper by the minute.