The Villains Must Win

Selis threw an arm over her face and groaned.

"This is worse than that time I romanced the final boss by accident and wiped out half my party."

But deep inside, something buzzed. Excitement. Dread. Curiosity. Lucian was a threat—but he was also part of the story. A major piece on the board.

And if Selis had learned one thing in her many, many (poorly made) life decisions, it was this:

You don't win the game by avoiding the strong players.

You win by learning them.

By getting close.

By rewriting the rules from the inside.

Selis rolled onto her side, her brain already working overtime.

Step one: Survive her next mission.

Step two: Find a way into Lucian's good graces (or at least his mildly tolerable indifference).

Step three: Use that position to gather more intel on Salister's side—and sabotage from within if necessary.

Step four: Don't die. Bonus points for not making a fool of herself in front of Lucian again.

She reached under her pillow and pulled out a slightly squished garlic bun she stole from the mess hall.

"You and me, bun," she muttered. "It's us against the world."

Then she paused.

Was she really comparing the Hero of Humanity to Lyander?

Short. Sharp. Deadly. No social skills. Definitely a boss-tier brooder.

"Oh no," she said aloud. "He is Lyander. Just in fun-sized packaging."

She buried her face into the garlic bun.

"I miss that wolf."

====

The next morning hit like a holy grenade to the face.

Literally.

"Up, rookie!" someone shouted as they kicked the side of her cot. The old metal frame shrieked like a banshee as Selis rolled off it, tangled in her blanket and dignity.

"Five minutes," she groaned, her voice muffled by the garlic bun still tucked under her cheek like a comfort pillow. "Just five more—"

"Lucian wants you. Now."

That woke her up.

She sat bolt upright, blanket falling like a dramatic cape, the garlic bun plopping to the floor in slow motion.

"Lucian? Wants me? Why?"

The hunter standing at her bedside—a tall woman with a scar across one eye and absolutely zero patience—just shrugged. "You'll find out when he yells at you, same as the rest of us."

"Oh good. I was worried my morning would be too pleasant."

Selis scrambled into her boots, her gear half-buckled and her hair aggressively rebellious.

As she stumbled out of the barracks, she saw a squad of serious-looking hunters in full gear jogging toward the northern gates.

Somewhere in the distance, the clang of weapons echoed—sparring drills? Or something worse?

When she finally reached the command center, she found Lucian standing alone by the war table, a massive map unfurled across it. His gloved hands rested on the edges like he was physically holding the world together through sheer disapproval.

He didn't look up when she entered. Didn't even glance.

"Selis Everhart," he said flatly.

"Reporting in," she said, half saluting, half trying not to trip over her own foot.

He tapped a spot on the map with one finger. "There's a ruined chapel near the old border wall. Vampires have been spotted nesting there. We're sending a recon team."

"Okay," she said slowly. "And you want me to . . . bring snacks?"

Lucian looked up. His expression was unreadable, like someone who had long ago forgotten what facial expressions were supposed to do.

"You're going with them."

Selis's brain screeched to a halt.

"I—I'm sorry, did you say me?"

"You're not deaf."

"But I'm still technically in onboarding! I haven't even passed the 'How Not To Die Horribly' seminar! And you just said yesterday that I have to retrain."

Lucian's gaze narrowed by one millimeter. "I know what I saw last night."

Selis blinked. "You mean the part where I dropped my dagger and slipped on entrails?"

"No," he said calmly. "The part where you stood back up."

Her brain short-circuited. Wait—was that . . . praise?

Lucian continued, unfazed. "You definitely need retraining, but we're low on manpower. Out of all the new recruits, only a handful can face a vampire and survive longer than two minutes, and you're one of them. We need all the help we could right now, even if you're not well trained yet."

Well, that was his polite way of saying she was barely more than cannon fodder.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Selis muttered under her breath.

"You'll be backup to Unit Delta," he added. "Stay close. Observe. Do not get heroic."

"Got it," she said. "No heroics. Just light espionage, maybe a sprinkle of panic."

Lucian didn't laugh. Of course he didn't.

"Leave in twenty minutes," he said, already turning away. "Dismissed."

Selis saluted again, this time with marginally more success, and bolted for her gear. But as she left the command room, her thoughts swirled like a blender on high speed.

He was sending her on a mission. With real hunters. In a vampire nest.

But more than that—he noticed her. Even if he didn't say it, even if he never showed it outright.

And Selis didn't know whether that made her feel relieved . . . or terrified.

Because Lucian wasn't just another player in the game.

He was the final boss of the good ending.

And she was supposed to betray or possibly kill him.

Selis sucked in a breath and muttered, "This game is rigged."

Her thoughts were cut off when she noticed a group of girl hunters giggling and elbowing each other as they strutted toward Lucian's tent like it was a celebrity meet-and-greet.

Curious—and mildly alarmed—Selis ducked behind a supply crate and listened.

"Captain Lucian~!" one of them cooed, voice honeyed. "We thought you might be . . . lonely."

Another one chimed in, deliberately adjusting her already suspiciously tight uniform to show off more cleavage. "We brought snacks! And, um, emotional support."

Selis peeked around the corner.

Lucian didn't even glance up from his map. "Put your jackets back on before I file you for insubordination."

The third girl pouted. "Oh come on, Captain. We just wanted to cheer you up—"

"You cheer me up by training," Lucian cut in, voice flat. "Not by flashing your collarbones like you're offering yourself to vampires. Fix your uniform before I make all of you do drills shirtless."

The girls stiffened.

One of them whimpered, "Yes, Captain . . ."

The flirtatious glow instantly vanished as they scurried out like cats caught stealing food.