Later that night, Logan had helped clean up the coven's debris and extract Moon Worshipper bullets from the walls. He, Marcius, and Kearran had spent the rest of the evening discussing the coven's security plans for any future attacks their enemy might make. He had also made sure that the blood twins considered opening up the locked doors to the back passages, just in case everyone needed to flee. And he knew there was that chance now that the Moon Worshippers suspected they had the Dark Child.

But that wasn't the only thought on his mind.

Despite the near-four years he had spent at the Shadow Stalker coven with the Winslow fledgling class, there was one more secret of Dracula's he was keeping. For centuries, he had never put weight behind the thought that the prophecy might be true. His sire was often a dreamer as much as he may have seemed divine. The Blood Warrior didn't want to believe in the old gods, or their plans for the Dracula bloodline. But now that the enemy was targeting their home, he knew he couldn't keep it to himself any longer.

And he worried she would hate him for it...

The Blood Warrior headed back to his shared apartment with Ranelle and Avalon, bouncing down the stairs in measured steps. He scanned his badge and nodded to the sentinel. He walked down the hall to their door and pulled out his keys. It was late enough that Avalon would be winding down for the night and he could speak to his wife about the thoughts on his mind. He unlocked the door and closed it behind him, quickly redoing the locks and deadbolt.

He didn't want to take any more chances with his family's safety.

The seven-year-old was lying on his daybed, a book in his hands as he read. He'd been tucked in under his blankets, a small reading lamp balanced on the end table behind his head so he could read in the dim light. He lowered his book to peek over the edges at his father. He smiled slightly. "Hey, Dad."

"Hello, Avalon," Logan greeted him, returning the grin. "Is your mother still awake?"

Avalon nodded several times before holding his book back up to continue his story. It didn't surprise Logan that he was already reading on his own; his son had been an adamant reader of books since he had mastered the skill at the age of four.

The man turned to go into the bedroom, finding Ranelle still in her business attire as she folded clean clothes of Avalon's and dropped them on the couch for easy sorting. He kept smiling, taking her in as she continued her task without giving him any eye contact. He watched a lock of her dark auburn-brown hair bounce against her cheek as she shook out one of his button-down shirts. Her blue eyes were hazy, as if she were deep in thought. He glanced down at her thin shoulders to her breasts and then her stomach where it was slowly starting to show through her blouses. He noticed she was barefoot and had already taken off her jewelry for the night.

Ranelle looked up at him, a half-smile finding her mouth. "Everything all right?"

Logan held back the need to sigh and nodded instead. "Aces," he replied, knowing his voice wasn't as enthusiastic as he had wanted to sound. He sat down in his usual armchair and began to lean back.

She looked up from finishing balling a pair of his dress socks. "It doesn't sound like 'aces,'" she said slowly, knowing he was trying to mask his real words. She dropped the socks onto the couch cushion and picked up another pair.

"I'm just...anxious," he confessed after he let the smile leave his lips. He heard her jaw clench across the room and he glanced up from studying the folded clothes waiting to be put away. "If they've tried something tonight, we need to be more cautious. I've already talked to Marcius and Kearran about the safety measures of the emergency exits."

Ranelle sighed heavily as she moved on to handling the rest of her and Logan's clothes. "I know," she said at last. "They've become rather brazen in recent months. But I never thought they would try to bring the fight to us."

"I'm worried about your and Avalon's safety," he added. He got up and began to organize the folded clothes on the couch for her.

"I know," she repeated. "I've been wondering if we should take him to America with the rest of the children and Seren Winslow. The grand elders have it well-protected there and they have more men. He's the Dark Child. He deserves to be somewhere safe from harm."

Logan exhaled slowly, trying not to make a sound as he steadied himself. There was no gentle way of saying what he wanted to share. "Avalon isn't the Dark Child like you believe he is," he said as he continued to organize their things. He glanced up when she stopped moving from putting away Avalon's shirts.

"What does that mean? Yes, he is," she said slowly.

"No, he's not. Your copy of the prophecy is incomplete at best. I've seen the original, before it was torn apart," Logan responded as he handed her the rest of the boy's clothes. "Avalon isn't the right child."

Ranelle put the stack of laundry away into its basket that sat atop their dresser. She shook her head when he looked at her, completely appalled by his words. "You've lost your bloody mind. Logan, these people believe Avalon is the one. Shadow Stalkers have died for him already."

"I understand that," he said, his voice still calm.

"I watched over your son for three years before you came back to London. It never occurred to you that the reason he was gone was because of the prophecy? Even though you knew he wasn't the one?" she asked, folding up one of Avalon's blankets.

"It never occurred to me that it would lead to both covens coming after my family. As much as I have wanted to hope that the prophecy isn't real, I know Avalon is not the Dark Child," he told her truthfully.

"How do you know? What could we have possibly missed?" she questioned, careful to keep her voice low enough that Avalon wouldn't hear them from the other room.

He sighed and shrugged a shoulder as he continued to arrange their clothes. He paused when she immediately picked up his stack of shirts and headed towards the closet to hang them.

"There is only one woman who can bring the Dark Child forward from my bloodline. It wasn't Loraine. I knew that when I married her," he replied at last.

"Go on," she urged as she continued to hang his clothes and placed them in the space she had made earlier in the night.

"In the second half, the prophecy says that the son of Dracula only has the ability to create the Dark Child with one woman," he said slowly. "The prophecy says she will be known as the 'Red Rose,' who is fair in temperament and beauty, born mortal to later be made into a vampire by an elder."

She paused from putting away his clothing.

"The 'Red Rose' isn't referring to Loraine. You know her history," Logan went on. He finished sitting the last of his things on the arm of the chair, watching her. "'Clothed in crimson and noble in blood, the Rose is a symbol of righteousness and peace, born into the Night by the blood of an Elder. She is the Faire light to show the way to the Dark Child,'" he recited from memory.

Ranelle turned to face him when she heard him approaching from behind her, the clothing dropping to the floor at her feet. Her face was slack of emotion, but dread colored her blue eyes. "Don't," she breathed, the word almost hurting her.

"The Dark Child is called 'twice royal' because of their bloodline, the blood of Dracula and the blood of a noble family, the monarchy of England. And your fath—" he tried to go on, but she shook her head.

"Please," she whispered, her head still shaking. "Don't do this."

Logan sighed again, looking down at the floor for a moment. He knelt to pick up the discarded shirt. "I've known more than I've let on for a long, long time. I have never wanted to believe it to be true. But, I'm beginning to fear perhaps Dracula was right. In the Twenties, I was afraid if I were near you again, between the blood feud and Dracula's orders to not discuss the prophecy, that it would cause you more harm."

"Logan, I-I can't," she said softly.

He smiled reluctantly. "I don't think we have a choice, love. It has all been predetermined by powers far greater than us. Even if I don't believe in the old gods any longer, I refuse to let anyone hurt you, or our family."

Her head shook again as she searched his face for any chance he could be mistaken or simply toying with her. "No, I'm not strong enough for this. You're wrong."

He frowned for a moment, seeing fear fill her expression as tears welled up in her eyes. "Ranelle, I promise you, I've seen the words with my own eyes. At first, I thought the title was simply a coincidence to Hadrian's mockery and nothing more. If I wasn't certain, I would not share this burden with you. It's too heavy. But I want you to be aware of the danger this puts you in. And I can't continue to let Avalon be the Trojan horse for what is to come. It isn't safe for either of you."

"But that means...," she murmured, her voice trailing off as she looked down at her body. Her head shook once more in disbelief. "Why couldn't you tell me this sooner? The night after Hadrian died, you should have told me what you knew. Or in Paris. We could have run, far away from all of this," she whispered. "I could've taken precautions to give us more time."

Logan reached forward to run his hands down her arms. He watched her torrent of changing emotions as she tried to come to terms with the knowledge.

Their son or daughter would be the savior the covens had been clamoring over for centuries.

"I know, but it was meant to be," he answered her. "I did not think that we would be in this situation yet when I first came back to London. I'm at fault for that. And I've wanted to tell you, but I was still fearful that there would be repercussions. If I had told you in Paris and Dracula discovered my admittance, there was a chance he would tear us apart until he thought the timing would be better and forced this upon us. And I couldn't let him do that to you. I didn't want to hurt you. Hadrian would have seen it as a slight and retaliated for the Count's actions, and his brother would have backed him. It could have ignited the blood feud all over again. The night Hadrian died was not the first time he's threatened to kill you just to spite me. He would have found a way to hurt me in the worst way possible. I couldn't run that risk again. I love you too much."

Ranelle looked up at him finally, blinking away her tears. "Moon Worshippers have attacked three times in the last six months. What if they find this same information? What if their elders know the truth of the prophecy, like you?"

He took his turn to shake his head. "It isn't possible. I watched Dracula destroy the scroll myself when he ripped away the second piece. Only he has possession of it. He didn't want anyone, especially the Winslows, to discover how to control him by holding his prophecy for ransom. The Moon Worshippers would have no way of knowing. This at least helps safeguard your identity from our enemies. And I'll make sure it stays that way."

She sighed and looked away. "We should have been more careful. This is the worst timing to think we could have a family," she murmured.

"I know," he responded. "But the timing never would have been perfect, nor safe. The war out there has been brewing for centuries. The best we can do is to make sure you are safe and healthy. If we have to make more moves to ensure that, then we will."

She refused to meet his eyes and buy into his reassurance, her gaze still removed past him to stare at the toys she still had to clean up.

"Hey," Logan said softly, trying to catch her attention. He leaned his head down some to find her stare. He used his free hand to tip her chin up to meet his eyes. "This isn't your fault. We have both wanted this future for a long time. I am not about to shy away from it because of its challenges. You are the mother to my children, and I have spent centuries longing for you. We will make it what we want it to be, prophecy or not."

Ranelle sighed a second time, still looking into his emerald green eyes. He was being sincere with her. Yet, it didn't curb the fear that still sat heavy in her throat. Avalon was no longer the Dark Child, but still in danger. She found herself back in the middle of two houses at odds over prophecy and religion. And this time, she wasn't concerned for her own life, but the future life within her that would soon be the heralded Dark Child.

He ran his hand over her hair to comfort her. "I will speak to Nathaniel first thing tomorrow, and we will come up with a good plan for you and Avalon. I won't let tonight repeat itself."