Ranelle's eyes clenched shut the second his hand made contact with the wall behind her and she fought the urge to wince. "Keep your voice down," she hissed softly. "If he finds out that I told you, we'll both be tossed into the sun to burn with stakes through our hearts."

"Where is my son?" Logan repeated, a few decibels quieter.

"While I'm outside the walls, Hadrian insists on keeping him on the lowest level. No one else knows he's even here beyond those of us in the Winslow fledgling class. It was the best way to keep him safe," she answered. "You so much as make another noise that he might hear, and I swear to God I will kill you myself, do you understand?" Ranelle added, her tone becoming harsh.

Logan snarled silently, pushing away from her so their bodies were further apart. He exhaled hard, trying to clear the scent of her perfume from his nose and his memories. The smell was unmistakably hers and he was too angry to enjoy it again.

When he didn't say anything, she nodded, satisfied with his obedience. The petite auburn-brunette stood back to her full height from her place against the wall and continued down the hall for the deeper corridors of the compound. She glanced to see if he was following before she turned to face forward again. Her shoulders stiffened in the same instant her fingers gripped into fists at her side.

If this is my final night, at least I did the proper thing, her brain whispered in hesitant comfort, making the woman's throat quiver at the thought.

She led the Blood Warrior to the end of the hall, turned left into the intersecting corridor then followed its tapestry rug to its end and the door that awaited them. She pulled the key card free again from her belt and scanned it, the sensor reading the pattern. A soft click followed and Ranelle pushed the door open. She held it wide for him as he followed and then she began to descend the stairs to the lower levels of the coven house.

Logan exhaled heavily again, resisting the urge to shove her forward in order to move faster. It had been three years since he had seen his child and seconds longer felt like his immortal life being relived in slow motion. But if he lost his temper with her, his chances of escaping the warehouse with his son were slim, and his bridges permanently burnt between himself and Ranelle and her coven mates. He would have to play his cards wisely.

She descended the stairs in even, measured steps. It was the only way to keep her undead heart in sync and out of her throat, where it would most certainly choke her. If he finds out...

She swallowed down the gruesome thought that played through her subconscious, passed the first door, and continued down two more flights of steps before she scanned her badge and pulled open a door marked L6. A blood-red sigil marked the wall in a gothic design incorporating a "W" with vines and a crowned lion's head.

"This whole level is only for our bloodline," she said in her calmest voice possible, hoping no one else was on the floor. "We don't allow anyone down here without express permission. The grand elders thought it would be beneficiary to place all of the higher ranking members here in case of an invasion so our leadership was protected."

Logan grunted a noncommittal answer. While he agreed with the strategy, there were a few choice injuries he would love to inflict on Hadrian the Great and his eldest brother, Thorne Winslow. "Just take me to my son," he added harshly when she glanced over her shoulder at him.

Ranelle inhaled again and continued down the hall to the last door on the right. She took a set of keys from her jacket pocket and found the correct one immediately. The metal slid into its lock and she turned it. The following click was almost enough to make her grimace.

Logan breathed in through his nose, steeling himself. This was it.

She pushed the door open slowly, finding the room dimly lit by lamps and a few toys scattered in the center on a rug. She looked back and forth for a moment, not seeing who she was expecting.

The Blood Warrior hovered behind her as she took the first few steps, pushing the door shut behind him. His eyes searched the room desperately. Finally, his gaze settled on a huddled form on the floor behind a toy-box:

The little boy peeked around the large trunk at the people in the doorway, his blue eyes bright against his pale skin and blonde hair. He met gazes with Logan before retreating back behind the safety of his hiding place.

"Avalon," Logan breathed, knowing he'd found his child. It was undeniable. He inhaled a shaky breath, wanting to scoop up his only family into his arms and never let go. But the boy didn't come out from his spot.

Ranelle glanced up at Logan for a short moment, taking in his facial expression. She looked back to the little boy and began to walk forward, a smile finding her lips. "Come, young lord," she called, her voice gentle and maternal. "You have a visitor."

The toddler peeked out before looking past her to the tall stranger in the doorway. He ducked back behind the chest.

She sighed and crouched down a few feet from him, offering her hand. "No need to hide. He's not here to harm us," she comforted.

Avalon looked from his caregiver to the strange man and finally reached out to take her hand, his small fingers wrapping around hers. He murmured something in what sounded like baby language to Logan's ears before he spoke real words. "I don't know him," the little boy whispered.

Ranelle smiled and nodded. "I know. But this man is a friend of mine. He's come to take you home to your family," she said, her hands running down his arms and then smoothing his shirt where it had been rumpled from play.

Logan stepped a few more feet into the room, trying to move slowly so as not to frighten the boy. "Hello, Avalon," he greeted, keeping his voice gentle.

Ranelle glanced at him before looking back to the child, running her fingers through his hair. She tried to remain smiling, but tears began to well in the corners of her eyes. "It's time you go home, poppet. You don't have to stay here anymore."

Avalon looked at Logan and then back to his caregiver, seeing the sadness in her despite her expression. His face furrowed in discomfort, not fully understanding what she meant. "But I don't wanna weave you," he began to whimper, his speech still developing.

"I know, darling," Ranelle consoled, forcing her smile. "I know. But it's time. Don't you want to go home? Your family wishes to meet you."

"No!" he cried, his voice shrill as he buried his face in her chest.

Logan sighed heavily. "Ranelle," he warned, "tell him the truth. Tell him who I am."

She shot the Blood Warrior a glare as she scooped the little boy up into her arms when he pressed his face into her neck, murmuring something inaudible. "He doesn't know you," she hissed, keeping her voice calm for Avalon's sake. "You can't expect me to turn his whole world upside down yet. He won't have any recollection of your face or your voice."

Logan's jaw clenched, wanting to fight back. But she was right; the little boy would have no idea of the life he could have had with him and Loraine. He wanted to outstretch his hands and take his child from her, but Avalon had wrapped his arms around her neck, his tiny fingers tangling in her auburn hair.

He'd searched the world over for his son, only to find him in the arms of a ghost from his past. Just from Avalon's reaction in being told they would have to say goodbye, Logan could tell he was attached to Ranelle. His fingers flexed into fists for a moment before releasing.

"It's time, darling," Ranelle whispered, her hand wrapping securely beneath his legs and his back as she lifted him up onto her hip. She stroked his blonde hair gently. "You need to go home with your family."

"No! Not wiff—"

His words were cut off as the door slammed open, hitting the wall with a loud bang.

"You gods-damn woman! I knew you wouldn't leave well enough alone!"

Ranelle winced, immediately pulling Avalon's body tighter to hers as the little boy squealed.

Logan whipped around to face Hadrian as the tall Saxon stood in the doorway. His hands immediately gripped into fists again, putting himself between the grand elder and Ranelle and Avalon. "I knew you lied," he growled. "How dare you steal my child from me? You bloody bellend! Where's my wife?"

Hadrian stepped fully into the room, looking from Logan to Ranelle as his fledge backed away, holding on to the little boy. "I told you, Blood Warrior, I have no idea where your insolent little bitch of a wife is. Ranelle, give me the boy."

She glared at him, her head immediately shaking.

"Ranelle, give me the boy!"

"No," she refused.

"Give me the boy or I swear to the gods I will end your life, do you hear me?" he snarled at her. He took another threatening step forward, making her retreat.

"Leave her alone, Hadrian. She's done nothing wrong," Logan shot back in her place, continuing to keep himself between them. "You've had centuries to torture her. It's over. You will never have power over us again. Your treaty with my bloodline is officially severed. Stealing a child in the name of some baseless prophecy is beyond honor."

The grand elder continued to move forward. "I have no power?" he asked, beginning to chuckle. "Ranelle, I order you, come here," he demanded, as if speaking to a hound.

Ranelle swallowed, her body beginning to tremble with the need to give into his command after centuries of obedience through their blood tie. She shook her head again, resisting the bond that linked her to his demands.

"You lovesick cow," her maker snapped. "Do you think this makes you free of me? Look at him, with a wife and child, and still you push your good fortune that he will call you to him like a whipped dog, just like the stray you are! I warned you what would happen if you ever stepped foot into the same room as this Dracula whelp," Hadrian snarled.

"I said, that's enough!" Logan shouted back.

Hadrian turned his attention to Logan, finally taking his gaze off of Ranelle and Avalon. "You think you have your maker's authority here, Blood Warrior? You're nothing better than that wretch. Let's see what the centuries have taught you, Dracula-son."

Logan's brow furrowed as the grand elder began to circle to his right, making Logan immediately turn his body to keep himself squared up. He pulled his dagger from his pocket, twirling it into its proper position within his grasp. "Give me the excuse, Hadrian. This has been a long time coming."

"So it has," the dark-headed man said. "I look forward to finally putting an end to the would-be legend of Logan Mezdor, the Blood Warrior, first and last fledge of Count Dracula."

Ranelle backed away from the men further until she and Avalon were on the opposite side of the room. She set him down and the little boy immediately ducked behind her legs.

Logan waited for Hadrian to lunge first and took up the defensive position with ease. It was the first lesson he had learned as a young fledge: never make the first move if it could be helped, allowing the opponent to expose their timing and rhythm, as well as showing off any weaknesses they may have. He blocked the first strike and the second before throwing back a hard punch. The blow glanced off Hadrian's chin as the grand elder moved out of the way just in time to miss the full force of the hit.

Hadrian snarled, kicking out at Logan, but the blonde-haired man dodged it. He moved forward again, ducking an offensive punch from the fledgling before blocking a right hook bearing the dagger. When Logan connected a hit to his opposite cheek, the grand elder's head turn with the sharp force of the blow. He stepped back two paces, bringing the flat of his wrist up to wipe the blood from his nose. He began to chuckle. "Is that all you're capable of, Blood Warrior? A paltry hook? I've bested better world-class boxers."

Logan scowled, twirling the knife in his hand. "You have yet to see what I can do with a blade, Hadrian. Any man can master a punch."

The grand elder continued to laugh. "And you think you can kill me with a knife? I'm five times your age, whelp. At least I came to the party with your parting gift," he answered, pulling a wooden stake from within his vest pocket. "I've been saving this for a very special occasion."

Logan's nose wrinkled. If Hadrian was able to stake him, there wasn't a chance in hell his son or Ranelle would escape the room unscathed.

"You think you can kill a Dracula fledge and survive the rest of this century?" he toyed with the grand elder. "My sire is old-fashioned in that he believes only he can destroy what he has made. Killing me invites your own end. Bring it on, old man. You have nothing on the centuries of power within my bloodline."

Hadrian lunged, faking a punch to the left before stabbing with his right hand and the stake in its grasp. Logan dodged the first and blocked the latter with his forearm, dropping the knife into his free hand. He then used it to slash at the grand elder. Hadrian grabbed his knife-hand at the wrist, spinning Logan's body as the two whipped around and back face-to-face again.

Logan ducked the next thrown punch and struck back, hitting the man in the chin again. Before he could recover, the grand elder used his vampire speed to knock the fledgling hard in the chest, pushing him back two steps.

Hadrian continued moving towards him, striking first with the left and then the right, making contact with Logan's face and shoulders. The following hit knocked the knife from his hand. The Blood Warrior blocked his next attack, throwing the man's hands up into the air with hard tosses. Hadrian began to laugh and leaned all his weight into his left foot before kicking out strongly again, throwing the younger vampire into the wall behind him. "Is that all you've got, whelp?"

Logan spit blood onto the floor from a cut on the inside of his cheek. He glared at the man. "No."

Hadrian laughed deep in his chest, his head shaking as a sickening grin twisted his lips. "You torpe, love-infested fool. I'd have thought over the centuries you would have learned that love makes you weak. But no, instead you run off with the first pretty blonde to take away your pain from centuries of pining over what you can never have. My many thanks to Dracula for giving you to Immortality. I'll be sure your son is stronger than you ever will be. This world will be ours when the Dark Child rules the supernatural realm, and you will be nothing but ashes on the wind, a piece of the puzzle no longer needed."

The grand elder spun the stake around in his hand before putting it in both hands. "Goodbye, Logan Mezdor," he crooned, arching his body to bring the wooden weapon down on him...