W-what? Why did he suddenly kneel?"
Angel stared at Francisco, his brows furrowed in disbelief. His voice barely escaped his lips, low and uncertain.
Whispers flooded the Council Chamber like a rising tide.
"He knelt?"
"Francisco never kneels... not even for Lord Vance."
"The only one he's ever shown respect to is... him."
Confusion rippled through the chamber, sharpening the tension.
Francisco slowly rose to his feet, brushing nonexistent dust from his cloak. "I apologize," he said coolly. "It seems... my legs gave out for a second."
Without waiting for a response, he turned his back to the Council and strode toward the doors. "You lot deal with this on your own," he muttered before vanishing through the grand entrance, the door shutting behind him with a resonant thud.
Angel stood frozen in place, still processing what had happened. Something about Francisco's reaction had unsettled everyone—but why?
Cassian Vance cleared his throat. "We will resume the trial."
The room regained its strained stillness. Angel shifted his weight, acutely aware of every gaze piercing through him.
Vincent Thorne stroked his chin thoughtfully. "If only we knew the origin of his bloodline..."
From across the chamber, Fred Corvus narrowed his eyes, observing the surrounding council members. "These leeches," he whispered under his breath. "Scheming already. That boy's unclaimed blood is a prize too tempting for any of them to resist."
Angel clenched his fists as murmurs surrounded him, all perfectly audible through his heightened senses. Whispers of power, ownership, and manipulation danced around him like shadows.
"A pureblood without a backer?"
"We could adopt him into our line... claim his allegiance..."
"Such potential must not go wasted."
He lowered his gaze, trying to drown them out.
"Why is this happening again...? What did I ever do wrong?"
His thoughts returned to Airi, to her screams, to the word monster.
The doors at the rear of the chamber flung open with a booming force.
All eyes turned.
Two figures entered.
The first—tall, poised, and with crimson eyes that gleamed like molten rubies. The second—a young woman with striking silver-blonde hair, walking with elegance and purpose.
The chamber descended into stunned silence.
"M-Moriarty!?"
A ripple of dread surged through the council members as they took in the new arrivals.
Malachi's gaze swept the room. "It seems we were... uninvited."
His voice, calm and even, carried the weight of someone who belonged there far more than anyone else in the room.
Then, his voice echoed in Angel's mind.
"Angel. Stand. Don't let people like them see you cower."
As if compelled by the reassurance, Angel lifted his chin and rose to his feet, his trembling legs finding newfound resolve.
Malachi stepped forward, his tone no longer gentle. "As all of you now understand, Angel Hughes carries the bloodline of a pureblood. From this moment forward, the House of Moriarty will serve as his patron. None of you will claim rights to his name or his lineage."
The declaration rang through the chamber like thunder.
Natalia Alistair's voice cut through the tension, sharp and scornful. "You presume too much, Malachi. A half-blood like you has no voice in this chamber."
Malachi's fingers tightened around his cane, but before he could speak, the young woman behind him stepped forward.
"Uncle, don't waste breath on her."
The girl's voice was crisp, cold, and full of poise. A smile played at her lips as she addressed the stunned room.
"Tell me, Natalia Alistair... do you have the gall to speak against me?"
Natalia's face paled.
The council began to murmur again—but this time in reverence.
"The Blood Princess..."
"She's here...?"
One by one, the members of the Council knelt in respect to Anne Moriarty, daughter of Cain Moriarty—the current patriarch of the family.
"As Angel is one of our own—a vampire—he will, naturally, be placed under our protection. Is that not correct, Cassian Vance?" Anne said, her smile never wavering as she tilted her head.
Cassian nodded slowly, clearly cautious. "It... it is within the bounds of the law."
Malachi turned to the room once more. "From this day forward, Angel Hughes shall be recognized as a member of the Unitas Institution Academy, under the bloodline protection of the Moriarty family. Should any other family dare to lay claim to him or interfere in his path... it will be treated as a declaration of war."
His words fell like a final verdict.
Cassian Vance raised a hand. "The matter is settled. This trial is adjourned."
With that, Malachi stepped down and motioned for Angel to follow. Anne remained a moment longer, casting one last look of veiled disdain across the chamber before turning on her heel.
As they exited, Angel walked in silence between them, his heart heavy.
His hands trembled.
Powerless again.
Malachi noticed and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "There's no need to despair. One day, they'll know your strength. But until then, you must grow, Angel. You must become someone they can never manipulate again."
Angel nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
Once outside, Malachi turned to Anne. "I'll take him home for now. He needs time to process."
Anne gave a short nod. "Don't let him fall behind. We need him strong when the time comes."
With that, she vanished into the shadows, her presence leaving a chill in the air.
Malachi drove Angel back to his home just before afternoon.
As soon as the car pulled into the driveway, Angel's parents burst from the door, their faces etched with worry.
"Angel!"
Aiko wrapped him in a tight embrace, trembling. "Where were you? We were terrified..."
Angel hugged her back, tears threatening to form but never falling.
"Mom... Dad... I've made my decision."
Marco blinked, stepping forward. "Decision?"
Angel looked up at them, his eyes calm. "I know where I'm going for college. I'm enrolling at the Unitas Institution Academy."
His parents exchanged looks, the weight of his words sinking in. There was no fear in his voice, only certainty.
---
One week later.
The grand auditorium of the Unitas Institution Academy was filled with new students. Each bore the aura of heritage—vampires, mages, werewolves and hunters woven into the very air.
Whispers stirred as a single figure entered, walking confidently down the aisle.
A boy with raven-black hair and faintly glowing crimson pupils.
On his blazer, the Moriarty crest shimmered—an unmistakable sign of allegiance to one of the most feared and respected houses in the world.
The whispers grew.
"That's the pureblood boy..."
"He's with the Moriartys?"
"So he wasn't just a rumor..."
Angel ignored them all, his eyes forward.
"Let's go," he whispered to himself, stepping into his new life.