Chapter 7
Kane
The sky is still slate gray. There are no birds chirping yet and no cars moving about on the road. Just morning frost clinging to hedges and a house too large to feel real in this light.
My phone buzzes in the cupholder as I idle at the end of a private drive lined with iron gates and trimmed hedges.
The Windsor family mansion gives main character energy as it dominates the landscape.
Beautiful stone, black shutters, and security cameras tucked under eaves, it’s the kind of house that assumes nothing bad ever happens here.
Even though something bad is happening right fucking now.
I steal a glance at the screen of my phone.
Cal: ETA?
I should answer. I don’t.
But my phone buzzes again.
Cal: You good?
Well, shit. I type fast, coming up with a lie as quickly as I can.
Me: Just checking one more thing. Headed your way after.
I toss my phone back into the cupholder and move my gaze right back to the house.
She’s inside it; I can feel her. But that’s probably because the bond isn’t subtle when I’m this close to her. If anything, it’s downright choking with how much it’s pulling me from the inside out.
She’s awake. She’s excited. Her body hums with nervous anticipation. Blair Windsor thinks all her dreams are about to come true.
Beneath her na?veté, I feel layers of cold and indifference. Five miles out, my body senses a black SUV with two gofer elites inside. And I can feel their intent like smoke in my fucking lungs.
They’re here to collect. And while Blair thinks she’s coming back home to her parents’ mansion after a few days, these fucking gofers know the truth—she might not come back at all.
Cal’s last text sits unanswered on the screen.
Cal: Make it quick. The sooner we’re all there, the better.
He’s talking about the cabin in the woods. The one Rook, Cal, and I built with our own bare hands. The one that’s off-the-grid and hidden beneath forest so dense no one ever dares to explore.
Cal is on his way there.
Rook is there with Kylie now.
And I should be there too.
Instead, I’m here, watching Blair walk out the front door of her parents’ mansion with a fancy white suitcase that probably costs more than the Suburban I’m sitting in.
She turns back toward the front door and fiddles with something, and then the iron gates open at the end of the driveway.
She’s dressed to the nines in a sophisticated outfit of sleek black pants, a black blazer with a small white top underneath, and black heels with shiny red bottoms. She looks stunning, unequivocally beautiful, and my chest aches over the fact that she thinks she’s heading toward somewhere good.
Yesterday, after eavesdropping on her conversation with Holland while she was shopping with her mother, I found out Damien Snow wants her to spend time with him at his fancy penthouse in New York.
Her mother approved because her intentions make it clear she doesn’t know any better. Her human fragility has made it impossible for her to see past the curtain, to the evil vampire wizards who plan to destroy her daughter in ways far beyond her comprehension.
I shake my head. Refusing to let my mind go there. Refusing to think about the true realities of her situation.
But fuck me. I can’t just stand here and watch her get into a car with gofers and drive away.
I put the engine in drive and head down the driveway, through the now-open gates.
Fuck. What am I doing?
I keep driving.
This is a bad idea. This is such a bad fucking idea.
I keep driving.
Blair glances down the long expanse of her parents’ driveway, and when her eyes catch sight of my Suburban pulling in, I can feel her blood pump harder. Feel her pulse start to pick up with excitement.
Turn around. Turn the fuck around and leave.
She waves her hand toward me, and I keep driving, not coming to a stop until I’m about twenty feet away from her.
You are so fucking fucked right now. So fucking fucked!
I don’t know what I’m doing, but I step out of the driver’s seat. And the instant our eyes meet, I feel like my heart is trying to claw its way out of my chest.
Her breath hitches, and her brows lift in immediate recognition. “Do I know you?”
“Not exactly.” But I certainly know you. Because you’re mine.
She digs her teeth into her bottom lip. “Wait… I think you were at… I think I saw you the other night. At an event.”
I shake my head. “Probably not.”
Her eyes search mine intently. “No, I’m pretty sure you were there.” And she continues to study me openly—her gaze taking in my blond hair and green eyes. “I’m almost positive you were there. Though, you never came over to talk to me.”
So, she noticed me too?
Get it together, you fucking idiot. Now isn’t the time for lovey-dovey bullshit when there’s a car full of gofers on their way.
“Maybe you’re confusing me with someone else.”
“Oh, okay…” She pauses and glances down at her suitcase. “But you’re the one picking me up?”
The lie is right there. I mean, I could just tell her yes, I’m picking you up. Hop in! and rescue her from this fucked-up situation she doesn’t even realize is happening.
But lying to her feels akin to burning myself alive. It’s stupid. And I wish I weren’t ruled by a reckless captain right now, but I am. Every bit of the bond is in control.
“You can’t go.”
Her head jerks back. “What?”
“It’s not what you think it is.”
“Excuse me?” she questions and takes a pointed step away from me.
All the while, I can feel the SUV and the men who are prepared to take her getting closer.
“Blair, don’t go with them.”
“H-how do you know my name?” Her breath picks up speed. “What are you doing here? Who are you?”
Fuck. I can smell her fear of me. Feel the terror in her fucking veins. And the irony is that I’m not the one she should be scared of.
“You need to leave,” she says. “Right now.”
“You’re in danger.”
“Danger?” She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “From whom?”
“You need to go back inside the house. Don’t go with them.”
“You sound insane.” Her voice is rising, and I start to fear she’s going to draw attention to the men who are on their way or to her family that’s still sleeping or to whatever security cameras might be facing our direction. “You need to leave. Right now.”
The men are getting closer. And I can feel the shift in the air as they take the final turn toward this neighborhood.
“You don’t understand what they are,” I say.
“You are a crazy person. Leave right now.”
“You aren’t being chosen for marriage,” I say, forcing the words out clean. “They just want to use you. Destroy you.”
Her spine goes rigid. Her eyes wide.
But the sound of an engine reaches the edge of my hearing, and I know the gofers are hardly a minute away.
“If you go with them,” I say, “you won’t come back the same. You might not come back at all.”
“I’m going inside,” she says in a rush. “I’m calling the police.” She starts to turn for her parents’ big fucking mansion, but the engine hum reaches the driveway before Blair reaches the door.
A black Escalade with tinted windows rolls through the open iron gates and slows near the front steps.
“Thank God.” Blair exhales, relief flooding her features. “They’re here.”
Two men step out, and I know them immediately.
Mark and Evan—Holland’s buddies and hockey teammates from the league my brothers and I play in at Concordia Rec Rink.
Well, hockey league we used to play in. There’s not much hockey-playing happening at the moment.
We’re apparently a little busy saving women from the fucking elite and trying not to get killed in the process.
They don’t recognize me at first, but that’s because they’re focused on Blair and getting her where their masters want her to go.
But when their eyes shift past her and land on me, everything changes.
“What the fuck?” Evan mutters.
“Fucking Kane Slater?” Mark breathes.
“Surprise, motherfuckers,” I say. I’m smiling on the outside. Though, on the inside, I’m definitely on edge. Two against one isn’t easy. Not impossible—I’ll fucking kill them if they try to touch her—but not easy.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Evan lets out a short, humorless laugh. “You got a death wish or something, Slater?”
“Wait…” Blair looks between us. “You know him?”
Mark’s mouth curves slowly. “Oh, we know him.”
Evan shakes his head once. “Every elite in the area is looking for you and your idiot fucking brothers.”
“You’re bold showing up here,” Mark adds. “Thought you three were hiding.”
“Thought you’d be smarter than this,” Evan says, eyes narrowing. “After what your brother pulled.”
Kylie. They mean Kylie.
“By the way, not only do the elites want you three dead, they want her dead too,” Mark says casually, like he’s discussing the weather. “Whole mess goes away that way.”
“What are you talking about?” Blair goes rigid beside me. “Want who dead?”
“It’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about,” Mark reassures, a slimy smile intact on his lips. “But let me guess, sweetheart, this man here was bothering you, huh?”
Blair looks at me again, her eyes searching my face and her mind trying to understand who to believe. But when Evan takes it upon himself to step toward her, I can’t hold myself back.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” I say.
Mark laughs. “You know, this probably is for the best, Ev. We can solve two problems at the same time.”
Evan grins. “Good point.”
Their intent shifts instantly. No longer focused on escorting Blair, they are one hundred percent focused on me.
On killing me.
Evan moves first. He’s fast—vampire-fast like the rest of us—and I don’t miss the flash of a blade from inside his jacket.
He goes for my throat, and I pivot and catch his wrist mid-strike, twisting hard enough that the blade drops to the ground.
It doesn’t stop him, though. He drives forward, pushing his full body weight toward me like a fucking linebacker, but I adjust my hips and use his momentum to slam his body into the stone column beside the front steps of the Windsors’ mansion.
The impact is heavy but muted.
He recovers quickly, getting to his feet swinging, but I’m too fast for him. It’s as if I can read his intentions before his brain can fully process them. In under a second, I’m behind him, his neck is in my hands, and I snap the life out of him.
I catch him before he hits the ground and lower him silently into the frost-covered grass of the Windsors’ yard.
Blair screams at the sight of it.
Fuck. I’m sorry, Blair. I’m so sorry. I almost tell her exactly that—want to tell her—but Mark snarls as he heads straight for me.
He’s older and stronger, and his eyes flash red as he lunges for me. He manages to tackle me away from the steps and the house.
Smart move, I’ll give him that.
We crash into a manicured hedge, and he drives his forearm into my throat so hard I cough from the impact.
“You should’ve stayed hidden,” he growls.
“And miss out on the chance to kill you?” I answer, my voice strangled. “Hell no.”
He reaches for the gun in his holster, but I don’t give him a chance. I hook his arm, reverse leverage, and slam him hard into the ground.
His head cracks against the stone edging.
He tries to recover, but I don’t let him. I grab his jaw and twist with all my strength.
At first, there’s resistance. But then, there isn’t.
The snapping sound is brief, contained, and I hold him there a second longer before I let him fall with a thud into the yard.
Silence settles back over the driveway. No alarms. No lights flicking on.
Just frost, exhaust smoke, and two dead gofers on Windsor property.
Blair is staring at me like the world just split open.
“You killed them,” she whispers, her hand going to her mouth. “They were supposed to take me to the airport! They were here to be my escorts, and you killed them!”
“You have no idea what these men had in store for you, Blair,” I say, slowly walking toward her with both of my hands held in the air. “They don’t give a fuck about you. Not them. Not Damien. Not any of the elites you know.”
“Oh my God!” Her face drains of color. “You’re insane!”
“You need to come with me, Blair.”
“Help! Someone, help me!” Her scream cuts through the morning air, and I just…act.
As quick as I can, I pull her toward me, toss her over my shoulder, and walk straight past Mark and Evan’s lifeless bodies lying in her parents’ yard, heading straight for the Suburban. Blair thrashes against me, silent panic flooding her system.
She’s kicking and screaming the entire way, her intentions clearly indicating that I’m ruining her big chance of being chosen. That I’m ruining her future. That I’m the villain.
Fuck. If you only knew what I’m saving you from. If you only knew, you wouldn’t be screaming.
Instantly, the screaming stops.
I don’t know why. I don’t care why. Because all I can do right now is toss her in the back seat of the Suburban. She’s fighting me the entire time, but her human strength and speed are nothing compared to mine.
I fucking hate that I have to restrain her with rope I snagged from the trunk to keep her secured in the back seat. Hate that I’m having to do any of this right now. Hate myself a million times over. But I’m doing it all anyway.
Because I don’t have a choice.
Because I can’t let anything happen to her.
Because I have to protect her.
Because Blair Windsor is mine, even if she doesn’t know it yet.