Chapter Twenty Three
Talia
The guys have been arguing with me all day, and I’ve reached a point where I am done listening. “You cannot just walk right into your kidnapping, Talia,” Vaughn says for the tenth time.
“I can, actually. Watch me,” I huff.
“No,” Caine objects.
I turn to him with narrowed eyes, and he frowns deeply at me. “Did you just tell me no?” I ask.
“Yes. I won’t let you.”
“That’s adorable,” I say with a dry laugh.
“It wasn’t meant to be funny, Talia. No.”
“Well, it was,” I say, gesturing to him. “Very stern. Very broody. Terrible execution. You are no Soren.”
Diego snorts from the kitchen island while Laurent tries, and fails, to hide his smile behind his coffee mug. Dad is sitting at the table watching us like he’s trying to figure out how I ended up emotionally adopted by four immortal murder gremlins in less than two months. Honestly… same.
I take another bite of my pasta, because apparently feeding me is like their new religion.
If I look even the slightest bit pale, someone forces me to eat.
If I blink too slowly or my hand shakes, someone threatens to pour juice down my throat.
I sighed earlier, and Laurent appeared out of nowhere with a sandwich like a fucking deli ghost.
“So, what’s the plan, Bunny?” Vaughn asks.
“Don’t call me that.” I frown at him.
“Soren isn’t here to stop me.”
“No, but I am. Unlike him, I will aim for your nuts when I shoot you,” I warn him.
“Talia, sweetheart. I beg of you, please don’t get funnier while holding emotional leverage over me.”
“Too late,” I shrug.
“Plan,” Caine says, not amused by my trying to distract them.
“Well,” I say, setting my fork down. “I call Henry and tell him I’ll come back if he lets Soren go.”
“Fuck no,” Vaughn barks.
“You already used your allotment of nos,” I say.
“I have unlimited uses. Fuck. No,” he says, drawing out his words.
“You are not my mate!” I snap at him, and the room goes painfully quiet.
My chest twists because that came out harsher than I meant for it to.
Vaughn looks away first, his jaw tight. Diego looks very interested in his coffee, and Laurent just looks at the floor.
Caine looks like he wants to punch a wall, but it hasn’t personally pissed him off enough yet, so he’s holding back.
“That wasn’t fair. I’m sorry,” I sigh.
“No,” Vaughn says. “It was true.”
“It was bitchy.”
“I won’t deny it,” he says truthfully.
“I don’t mean that y’all don’t matter. You do. All of you do. I just…” My voice trails off when my throat tightens. “I need him back.”
“I know,” Vaughn says softly.
“You don’t, though. None of you do. I can feel him. I can feel everything they do to him. Every moment I sit here eating and chatting and being watched like a suicidal toddler, they are hurting him.”
“To be fair,” Laurent says. “You do have concerning toddler energy.”
I glare at him, and he grimaces. “Not the time. Sorry.”
“No, it is the time,” I say. “If we stop joking, I’ll start screaming. If that happens, I might not stop.”
Diego walks over and sets a glass of juice next to my hand. Where the fuck did he even get that? “Then we keep joking,” he says gently.
“Fine,” Vaughn says with a heavy sigh. “But your plan is shit.”
“Thanks for your support,” I deadpan.
“It’s suicidal, Talia.”
“Most meaningful things are.”
“Jesus, Talia. That’s not the inspirational statement you think it is.”
“She’s right,” Dad says.
“Don’t encourage her,” Caine growls.
“I’m not,” Dad counters. “I’m telling you what I already know. Henry won’t give Soren up because you threaten him. He won’t be traded fairly. He won’t negotiate honestly. The only way through him is through the thing he thinks he already owns.”
Me. It doesn’t need to be said, because we all know. Vaughn tightens his hands into fists. “Fuck that,” he growls.
“I agree,” Dad says, leaning back in his chair. “But Henry taught her to survive him. That means she knows how to lie to him better than any of us.”
“Well, that’s fantastic,” I mutter. “My trauma finally has a career path.”
Diego points at me. “See? Funny. Concerning, but funny.”
I pick up my juice and take a sip as Laurent leans his elbow on the counter. “So what do you need from us?” he asks.
That question nearly undoes me. It’s not ‘how do we stop you?’ Not ‘What would Soren want?’ Not ‘Are you sure?’ Just… ‘How can we help?’
“I need you to trust me,” I say.
“That’s a big ask, Talia,” Vaughn says, finally softening.
“I know.”
“When Soren gets back and finds out we let you go, he is going to rip our spines out and use them as fucking jump ropes,” he says.
“Well, that’s graphic.” I laugh.
“It’s accurate,” Vaughn says. “He will be so fucking mad.”
“Soren will be mad,” I agree. “But he will be alive enough to be mad. That’s the point.”
“I hate that she makes sense,” Caine admits with a huff.
“I usually do.” I laugh.
“No, you usually threaten people and then make sense by accident.”
“It still counts.” I shrug.
For the first time since before Soren was taken, Vaughn smiles. It’s small and sad, but it’s real. He glances over at Dad for a moment before returning his gaze to me. “You’re a lot like him, ya know?”
“My father?”
“No, Soren,” he corrects. That does something strange to my chest, and I don’t know how to respond for a moment.
“Insulting or romantic?” I ask.
“Yes,” Laurent laughs. I pick up a grape from my bowl and throw it at him, but he catches it in his mouth. Of course, he does.
“Show-off,” I mutter.
“Jealous?” Laurent asks.
“Oh, yes, Laurent. My dream has always been to become a slutty immortal grape trap,” I say sarcastically, making Diego choke out a laugh. Vaughn laughs heartily, and even Caine rubs his hand down his face while his shoulders shake.
For a brief second, the house feels whole again.
Not completely without Soren, but alive.
I cling to that feeling because soon, I’m going back to hell.
I’ll have to become quiet. Obedient. Useful.
Broken. But right now in this kitchen, wearing Soren’s shirt, with my hair braided by Diego and a plate full of food they’ve forced on me, I get to be something else. I get to be loved.
Vaughn’s laughter fades, and his eyes meet mine, and something unspoken passes between us. He knows, and maybe they all do, but this is the last peaceful moment I’ll get for a while.
“For the record,” Vaughn finally says. “If Soren asks, I fought hard against this.”
“You folded like wet cardboard,” I tease.
“I object to that,” he smirks.
“Fine. You folded like damp, emotionally constipated cardboard.”
“Better,” he says with a nod, making me smile.
“We need weapons,” Caine says.
“Finally,” I say. “A family activity I can join in on.”
“I’ll tell you what I know about Henry’s hotels,” Dad says.
“And the witch bitch?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says with a sad tone. I’m just realizing that they were mates. They’re still mates… but he chose me. Over and over again, he’s put me before everything. I have a lot to learn about my father.
Vaughn pushes off the counter and drops a kiss to the top of my head before he walks away. It’s quick, and maybe brotherly, but probably not. I don’t have time to examine it. “Eat the rest,” he says as he is walking away.
“Bossy,” I mutter. He stops and turns to me. His smile is gone.
“Alive women get to be bossy,” he says, and it’s the closest thing to a plea for me to make it back alive. Not for Soren, but for him. The fear of Soren is still very real, but there is also fear rooted in losing me, and that’s an unfamiliar position for me to be in.
I pick up my fork because he’s right. Alive women get to be difficult, and I plan to be his fucking nightmare.