Chapter 24
The corridor swallowed sound in long echoes, but Dax made no attempt to move quietly. His boots struck the stone with more force than necessary, carrying the residue of Veya’s heat upon his skin and the memory of their kiss like an accusation he could not escape.
He had left her inside the guest suite with water beside the bed, the curtains drawn, and the fire burning low. He had remained until her focus returned and the violent trembling in her limbs softened into exhaustion.
The kiss had not been imaginary.
That was the problem.
Dax had wanted it before the library, before Rhen’s blood destabilized her body, and before pain stripped away the caution she had used to keep him at a distance.
He had wanted her in the garden when she laughed, in the guest room when she looked at him with reluctant trust, and every time she demanded a choice rather than accepting an order.
He had stopped because he could not tell how much of that moment belonged to Veya and how much had been sharpened by what Rhen had done to her.
Rhen, meanwhile, had walked away.
The stairs leading to the training level seemed endless.
The air cooled as Dax descended, and damp gathered faintly along the old stone.
The stronghold kept its violence underground among weapons, discipline, sweat, and reinforced walls, as though hiding brutality beneath the living quarters somehow made it cleaner.
It did not.
The scents of old leather, metal, disinfectant, and exertion reached him before the training-room doors. A heavy rhythm followed, with fists striking a suspended bag hard enough to make the chains groan.
Dax pushed through the doors without knocking.
The cavernous room spread beneath reinforced concrete and iron beams. Heavy chains hung in loops from the ceiling, while industrial lamps cast a hard white glare across the equipment and bleached every surface into sharp angles.
Rhen stood shirtless before one of the heavy bags.
Sweat moved across the muscles of his back as he drove one gloved fist after another into the leather. Blood had already seeped through the worn gloves and marked the bag with every impact.
Dax crossed the floor.
“You left her knowing the tether could do that.”
Rhen did not turn or interrupt the rhythm of his strikes.
“She was stable when I left.”
“She was burning alive in the library.”
“And yet she survived.”
The lack of concern in his voice struck harder than anger would have.
Dax stopped several feet behind him.
“She kissed me while her body was still destabilized, and I wanted her enough that I nearly allowed the crisis to make the choice for both of us.”
Rhen’s next blow landed with enough force to throw the bag sideways.
“That sounds like your failure.”
Dax’s hands tightened.
“Do not speak about her as though she is an inconvenience you can leave for someone else to manage.”
Rhen continued striking.
“She is an inconvenience.”
The answer came without hesitation.
Dax stared at the rigid line of his back.
“She is a person.”
“She is a newly made vampire with no control, a maker tether she did not ask for, and heretic magic clinging to her strongly enough to make her valuable. Call her whatever allows you to feel noble.”
The words stopped Dax more effectively than violence.
“Valuable.”
Rhen drove another fist into the bag.
The leather seam split beneath the impact, spilling sand and stuffing across the mat.
Dax watched the pale stream gather around Rhen’s boots.
“That is why you saved her.”
Rhen pulled one glove free with his teeth before removing the second.
“A corpse tells us nothing and draws nothing into the open. She might.”
There was no remorse in his face when he turned. His silver eyes carried neither hidden tenderness nor the restraint of a male denying himself something he wanted.
They held nothing.
Dax’s voice lowered.
“You fed her because she was useful.”
“I fed her because dead currency has no value.”
The answer settled between them with sickening clarity.
Whatever Dax had expected to find beneath Rhen’s refusal, it was not this absolute absence of feeling.
“The tether is tearing through her.”
“It was an unintended consequence.”
“She is suffering because of something you did.”
Rhen stepped over the ruined bag’s contents and approached him.
“Then keep her functional.”
Dax’s jaw tightened.
“You mean you should.”
“No.” Rhen stopped within striking distance. “I mean you, apparently. You are the one standing here pretending her pain has become a moral emergency.”
“She matters.”
“To you, perhaps.”
The words were not a challenge. Rhen delivered them as an observation he had already decided to use.
Dax searched his face for some trace of contradiction and found none.
“You feel nothing for her.”
“For Veya?” Rhen’s mouth shifted with cold contempt. “No.”
The use of her name made the answer worse.
“Do not confuse my refusal to waste an asset with concern. She is alive because she may be useful, and she will remain alive for exactly as long as that continues to be true.”
Dax stepped closer.
“One day, she will understand what you did.”
“If she survives long enough to become useful, she may understand whatever she likes.”
The urge to strike him traveled through Dax with enough force to tighten every muscle in his body.
Rhen noticed.
He did not care.
“You brought her into this house,” Dax said. “You created the tether, and now you are handing the consequences to everyone else.”
“I am handing them to the brother who has already decided he wants them.”
Dax went still.
Rhen’s gaze moved briefly over his face, measuring the reaction with the same detached intelligence he brought to an enemy’s weakness.
“You want her,” Rhen said. “That makes her easier for you to manage.”
“She is not something to manage.”
“Everything is something to manage.”
The contempt in Dax’s expression deepened.
“And if she becomes useless?”
Rhen’s eyes did not change.
“Then she becomes expendable.”
Silence filled the training room beneath the faint hum of the lights and the slow creaking of the damaged bag.
Dax understood then that there was no hidden conflict inside Rhen regarding Veya. There was no dangerous attraction, suppressed tenderness, or fear of losing control around her.
Leena had been the exception.
Veya was a piece upon the board.
Rhen turned away.
“Keep her fed, keep her contained, and do not mistake your attachment for mine.”
Before Dax could answer, shadow folded around Rhen and removed him from the room.
Dax remained in the center of the training floor with his fists clenched, staring at the place where his brother had stood.
The split bag swayed slowly upon its chain, spilling sand across the mat.
Upstairs, Veya remained trapped inside a body Rhen had altered because he considered her useful. Rhen had reduced her to currency before she had even opened her eyes.
Dax had no intention of doing the same.