There was no one else she could’ve gone to.
Damon stood before her in the tar-soaked library, disguised as a vanguard. He explained that this was his usual method of walking around the palace without being caught—it was easy to mask the scent of a werewolf, slap on a disguise and never be recognized. In fact, Lily had probably passed by him several times before. He looked like any other vanguard in the palace, after all.
His hands on his hips, he surveyed the situation—the blood on the rug, the book shelf, the couches, the floor.
"Welp, you’re right," he said. "That is a dead vampire."
"What do we do?" Lily asked, her heart smacking against her eardrums. She had never killed anyone before—not even a wolf. Let alone, a prominent vampire like Weston. Lily didn’t know much about him, but if his daughter was fit to marry the prince, he must’ve been someone.
"First thing’s first," Damon said. "Clean."