Chapter 24 #3
“I have never lied to your daughter, and I would never fucking hurt her.” Flynn’s voice is strong despite the pain, despite the silver burning through his.
There’s conviction in every word, a fierce protectiveness that makes my chest ache.
“What you’re insinuating is pure and utter bullshit,” he continues, almost laughing.
“You’re just pissed off because what I have with Talulla is more real than any absurdity you filled her head with. Vlad is not behind this, he never was.”
More real.
What we have is real.
“See, Flynn, I almost believe you.” My father’s voice is mocking now, and he paces toward us—toward Flynn. A dagger appears in his hand, the blade gleaming silver in the light.
Ready to strike.
Ready to end this.
No.
Not Flynn. Please, not Flynn.
“I can’t let the Original get away with it. Just like I can’t let my daughter live a life with an abomination.”
Abomination.
The word is a slap. My father has called vampires many things over the years—monsters, parasites, demons—but hearing him call Flynn an abomination while I’m holding him, while his blood is on my hands—
It makes me want to scream.
Flynn growls at his words, and the sound is inhuman. Dangerous. His fangs are out, fully extended, and his eyes have gone completely black.
His hunger is clearly getting stronger and harder to contain.
I’ve seen it before in other vampires. The way they lose themselves to the hunger, become nothing but instinct and violence and the desperate need to feed.
This is the kind of thirst that could turn into a massacre. The kind that would turn Flynn into a shell of a being, a mindless killer who wouldn’t stop until everyone in this room was dead.
I can’t let that happen.
I grab his hand and squeeze it, hard, trying to remind him I’m right by his side. Trying to anchor him to reality, to me, to the man he is and not the monster he could become.
My body starts to shake as I continue to look back and forth at the two men.
Flynn. My father. Flynn. My father.
Flynn omitted many things—that much is clear now. He kept secrets. Big secrets. Secrets about who he is, about his connection to the Original, about my grandmother’s death.
But he wouldn’t go through all this if he didn’t care for me, right?
The question is desperate, pleading.
Please let it be right.
He promised he didn’t lie. And I know it might be stupid and reckless, but a small part of me truly believes that he had devoted his soul to me.
Do vampires even have souls? The Church says no. My father says no. Every hunter I’ve ever known says no.
But when I look at Flynn—when I see the pain in his eyes, the fear of losing me, the way he’s fighting to stay in control despite the silver and the bloodlust and the very real possibility of death—
I see a soul. I see someone who loves me.
And that small part of me that believes seems to be way more prominent than anything else at the moment.
I believe him.
The realization settles over me like a blanket, warm and certain despite everything.
Not because I have proof. Not because I know for sure he’s telling the truth.
But because my gut—the same gut that’s kept me alive through countless hunts, that’s warned me of danger, that’s never steered me wrong—
My gut says he’s telling the truth, that he loves me, and that this is real.
“Don’t hurt him,” I beg, and the words come out broken, desperate.
Flynn turns to stare at me in confusion. Does he think I mean my father?
No. Never my father. Always you. Only you.
“Your—friend—killed my beloved mother, right in front of you, Flynn. That wasn’t hundreds of years ago, I’m afraid.” My father’s voice is cold now, all pretense of civility gone. “Do you think I’d let him get close to my daughter?” He shakes his head. “You’ll bring me to him.”
My grandmother.
I remember screaming. I remember blood. I remember my father’s face, twisted with grief and rage.
And I remember tattoos. Full sleeves. Even on the hands. Intricate and beautiful and terrifying.
Flynn was there. He had to have been there if he’s the Original’s—
What? Son? Servant? Pet?
“He didn’t kill your mother, Emil, you know he didn’t,” Flynn replies, and his hand closes into fists.
His voice is steady despite the pain, despite everything.
He was there, but he didn’t kill her.
“Stop lying in front of my daughter,” my father howls, and the rage in his voice makes me flinch.
Flynn turns to look at me, and his eyes open wide. He’s looking just slightly right past me, and I know exactly what’s about to happen.
And it’s too late for me to stop it.
“Talulla, my red ruby.” His voice is soft, tender, full of a love so deep it makes my chest ache.
“I know it’s starting to sound redundant, but I have not lied to you.”
The words caress my ears and I keep them close to me, holding them like precious things. Like truth. Like salvation.
I try to mouth back, “I know.”
But before I can form the words, I feel it.
The pinch in my neck, it’s sharp and quick.
Stars fill my vision, bright and beautiful and multiplying. The room starts to spin, and I feel my body give out.
Arms grab me from behind—Flynn’s arms, strong and sure even as he’s bleeding, even as he’s dying.
He’s saving me.
The thought is clear despite the fog creeping into my mind.
I love you, I think as the darkness pulls me under. I love you, and I choose you, and please don’t die.
Then I just fall into deep nothingness.