Anna stopped.
She released Ethan's hand and turned to face the stage,directly toward Gérard.
And she smiled defiantly, watching the old vampire's cheekbones tighten.
"It seems," she said loudly enough for everyone to hear, "the evening is only just beginning."
Ethan took one step forward,just one,but it was enough.
The spotlights fell on both of them.
The red live-broadcast indicator burned brighter than any other light in the hall.
The screen flared blinding white, as though lightning had been fired straight into the eyes of the entire room.
For an instant everything vanished,light, faces, breath.
When vision returned, lines of text were already appearing across the enormous canvas.
Not slogans.
Not loud accusations.
Documents.
Archival protocols stamped with the highest clearance levels.
Blood-modification schematics,neat, almost elegant blueprints where red lines marked interventions in DNA structure, accompanied by cold, businesslike comments:
"aggression increase acceptable"
"instability compensated by personality suppression"
"subject № 47, disposal following failed integration"
Then tables.
Columns of donors.
Age, blood type.
Condition before procedure… and death.
The word "death" appeared far too often. Too routinely.
Video replaced the documents.
Catacombs.
Cold stone, drops of water falling from the ceiling, metal tables with leather restraints.
The camera jerked,the operator was clearly afraid to look any longer than necessary.
On the table,emaciated people, skin stretched tight over bones, eyes huge and filled with animal terror.
A scream tore through the hall,not from the speakers, but from the raw recording itself: high, ragged, almost inhuman.
Someone in the audience instinctively stepped back.
Next fragment.
A body arched violently, veins swelling into black threads, blood darkening before their eyes. The transformation had gone wrong.
The monitor cut abruptly.
A corpse.
A dry, bureaucratic caption below:
"organ failure, material disposed of"
And then those who survived.
Grotesque creatures,more like ghouls than vampires.
Kept in cages.
They snarled, slammed against the bars, clawed at stone, leaving bloody furrows.
And beside them,the faces of those in charge of the work.
Neatly entered into the protocols.
"Experiment failed"
Some of those faces were standing in this very hall right now.
Under chandelier light, glasses in hand.
The television networks continued the live feed out of sheer momentum. Anchors sat silent, unsure whether to interrupt the signal.
But it was already spreading through every network like poison through veins.
A heavy, thick silence settled over the hall,the kind in which you could hear someone's heartbeat.
Someone took a step back.
People lowered their eyes to the floor; a woman frantically tried to dial a number on her phone, fingers trembling.
At the foot of the stage Richard Hale spun toward his men.
"Cut the signal!" he snarled through clenched teeth.
"Immediately.
Jam everything going out!"
"It's too late," the technician replied, pale to the point of blue.
"It's already in the federal networks.
And the European ones too. We're finished…"
"Then sever the server room!" Corvin snapped, stepping forward.
His voice was cold as ice.
"Completely!"
"Even if we have to burn every computer!"
Behind him security broke into motion,black shadows rushing toward the technical block.
Elizabeth slowly turned to Ethan.
There was no smile left, no polite softness on her face.
She looked at him with cold eyes,the same eyes that had failed to break through him.
"It was you," she said quietly.
It wasn't even a question,just a statement.
Ethan didn't answer. He shook his head slightly as though brushing off her words.
He stood motionless, no longer dancing. The hand that had just held Anna slowly fell to his side.
Roy climbed onto the stage.
His gaze slid across the screen, then across the crowd. Finally it locked on Anna.
And in that moment he understood.
Damn it! How is this possible?
The moment had passed. He could do nothing now.
Too many cameras.
Too many witnesses.
Too late.
Gérard stood beneath the single remaining spotlight,as though he were the one at fault, and indeed this was his fault and his problem.
His face remained impeccably calm. Only the fingers of his right hand slowly,very slowly,curled in unbearable rage.
The screen flickered once more.
The final file appeared in close-up.
A digital signature adorned the document.
And a surname.
The name blazed across the entire screen,clear, undistorted.
A low, heavy murmur rolled through the hall.
"That's impossible…" a girl clutched her head.
"He couldn't have…" a man looked like he was about to be sick.
"It's a forgery…" Richard Hale muttered quietly, hands clasped tightly together.
Cameras zoomed in on faces,showing shock, fury from the vampires, and pure horror on Elizabeth's face.
One of the journalists was already whispering into a microphone, eyes never leaving the screen:
"If the signature is authentic, this means direct responsibility lies with the council, the mayor, and all his associates…"
Anna took a step back.
Her face had changed. Apparently the time had come to put all the dots over the "i"s.
She looked at Gérard.
Then at the screen.
"Now you can't turn away," she said quietly, so no one else would hear.
The dance was over.
There was no more music.
Only a rising hum,like the sound before a dam bursts.
Richard was shouting into his radio.
"Catch every last one of them and execute on sight,no sabotage allowed," he barked.
"I need a report,immediately," Corvin said without turning from the screen.
Security raced toward the technical block.
But in the hall phones were already ringing.
Journalists were sending urgent dispatches.
International channels were confirming receipt of the signal.
The entire internet had received what it had just seen.
Gérard finally spoke.
"Everyone remain in place," he said evenly, and his voice carried over the entire hall as though nothing had happened.
"No one leaves the room. Stay where you are. This is nothing but slander…"
But almost no one was listening to him anymore.
Seconds stretched like taut wire.
Security had already reached the technical block; somewhere deep in the building came a dull thud,as though a door had been kicked in.