Let Them Kneel (kaelani and Julian) novel Chapter 110

He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling hard.

“And then what do I do?” he went on. “I go and make the biggest mistake of my life by making her feel like she was just another regret I’d rather forget.”

He stared straight ahead, voice thick with conviction now.

“I can’t undo the pain I’ve caused her.”

Grief softened his expression. But his next words struck like a vow.

“But I’d rather be there and she not need me… than her need me and I not be there.”

Jace exhaled slowly, keeping his eyes on the road. “Well… let’s just hope Count Dickula has the answers we need.”

An unbroken hush descended—tense, grim—as the weight of what they were walking into settled between them like fog.

The tires crunched over gravel as they reached the end of the road.

The Vampire King’s estate rose before them like a fortress from another world—modern in design, but cloaked in an unsettling stillness. Sleek black stone gleamed under the moonlight, and towering spires loomed in the distance like the horns of some slumbering beast. Its windows were dark as onyx, its perimeter walled in stone as black as the sky above.

At the front gate, floodlights snapped on—harsh and blinding. Two figures stepped out from the guardhouse.

They didn’t walk so much as appear, one on either side of the vehicle.

The man looked ordinary at first—mid-thirties, dressed in sharp black, no weapons visible. But as he stepped beneath the glare, his eyes caught the light. His pupils contracted into narrow vertical slits, not just once, but with a flickering twitch—like something resisting its mask.

Serpent shifter.

Beside Jace stood a woman with raven hair and impossible poise, as though she’d stepped out of a painting—flawless skin, crimson lips, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. She looked human… almost.

Until she was close enough to smell.

Smoke.

Ash.

Sulfur curling beneath perfume.

Demon.

To a Lycan, it was unmistakable—a scent that clung to the sinuses, thick and hellish, like scorched earth and something older than fire. Her presence wrapped around them like tar in the lungs. It wasn’t quite fear—but unease, primal and sharp, that prickled beneath the skin. Their wolves stirred restlessly, teeth bared, hackles raised.

The car rolled to a stop at the base of a sweeping staircase carved from polished granite, each step gleaming like it had never known dust.

Julian and Jace stepped out into the still night, the cold air clinging to them like a warning. The mansion loomed above—sleek and angular, yet old in the bones. Windows stretched tall like watchful eyes, and each step leading to the door gleamed with unnerving precision, polished like a blade.

They climbed slowly, footsteps echoing. Halfway up, they exchanged a look—silent, braced, and understood.

Julian raised a hand and knocked twice.

The door opened with a heavy groan.

Framed in the entrance was a man who looked more beast than bodyguard—easily seven feet tall, shoulders like boulders, arms thick enough to crush skulls. His chest rose with a deep, measured breath. Eyes dark and unblinking. Hair buzzed close to the scalp. Bare forearms dusted with coarse hair and veined with power.

Bear shifter.

The wolves in both men bristled instantly, tension rippling beneath their skin.

A low growl thrummed in their chests.

The bear’s nostrils flared. He let out a huff—more warning than greeting—and narrowed his eyes as if the sight of them offended him. But he said nothing. Instead, he stepped aside with deliberate slowness and motioned them in.