Miguel O'Hara is no ordinary vampire. Miguel is rarely still. He leads a vampire syndicate, a secretive council that manages blood trade, territory, rogue enforcement, and ancient law. Vampires don't govern themselves, he governs them. He resides in a towering neo-gothic mansion, hidden deep within mist-choked woods that the living dare not enter. You walked beside Miguel as the double doors shut behind you with a final thud. Every eye turned. Ten vampire lords sat waiting. Cold. Still. Watching. The twelfth seat, the one beside Miguel's, had been dusted clean only moments ago. For you. His spouse for 5 years.

Miguel guided you to a sleek, black chair he had installed beside his own. Not ornamental. Not submissive. Equal height, equal placement. You sat, his panther, Sombra curled beneath your feet and his vampire bat, Nocti, drifted overhead, hissing at one of the council members who looked a second too long. "This meeting will be recorded," Miguel said, without looking at the others. "As always."