Chapter 9
The bed felt too big without him. Too cold, and the room was too quiet.
For a few blissful seconds, I forgot where I was. I stretched under the sheets, half smiling as my hand brushed the spot where Volken should have been, he was so warm, solid, impossibly still when he slept. But when I found only cool linen, my stomach twisted.
The bond still hummed faintly between us, he was alive, awake, somewhere out there, but that didn’t stop the ache of separation.
It had been three days since we’d come up for air, three days since the rest of the world had stopped mattering. But now that he was gone again, the silence of the mansion pressed on me like a weight.
I got up slowly, pulling on black jeans and a loose sweater that still smelled faintly of him. My reflection in the mirror made me pause, hair a tangled mess, eyes shadowed but clearer than they’d been in months.
But beneath that clarity, the old ache burned. My father.
Eight months of running, searching, chasing whispers in the dark. And now I was supposed to sit here? Eat breakfast, smile, pretend like I wasn’t dying inside while Volken and his brothers decided my fate for me?
No. I couldn’t do that.
I glanced at the clock, it was well into the night. The vampires would still be buried in whatever business they handled before daylight.
Perfect. I pushed back the sheets and swung my legs over the side of the bed, my body still heavy with that languid, post-Volken ache.
The room was dim, lit only by the faint silver wash of moonlight spilling through the windows.
My clothes still in a pile on the armchair.
I crossed to them quietly, every step soft, careful not to make the floorboards creak.
Pulling off his shirt, the one I’d stolen to sleep in, felt like shedding a layer of safety. The cotton still smelled like him: smoke, iron, and something darker, something that always made my stomach twist in ways I didn’t understand.
I forced myself to look away from the bed and started dressing.
First came the black jeans, snug and worn enough to move in. Then the charcoal-gray sweater I’d bought months ago, before my father disappeared. I tied my hair back in a messy knot, catching sight of myself in the mirror.
Honey eyes. Tangled honey hair, and determination where fear should have been.
I didn’t look like the same girl anymore, the one who used to sit at her father’s workbench sorting screws while he told her stories about far-off places. This version of me had dark circles, sharper edges, a haunted kind of focus.
“Get it together, Runa,” I muttered under my breath. “You’re not backing down now.”
I grabbed my worn leather jacket from the chair, the one that had belonged to my father. The inside pocket still held the folded note I’d found in his study, the address that had started all of this, that had led me to Malakai and in return here, to this mansion, to Volken, to all of it.
My chest tightened as I ran my thumb over the faded ink.
“Hang on, Dad,” I whispered. “I’m coming for you.”
Then I slipped into my boots, zipped the jacket, and crept toward the door, quiet, steady, a pulse of adrenaline already thrumming in my veins.
It was the perfect time to slip away. My heart thudded faster as I eased the bedroom door open. The hall was dim, lined with the soft glow of sconces. I could hear faint murmurs somewhere below, the low, even cadence of guards talking.
Every creak of the floor felt like a shout, every shadow like a trap. I moved quietly, keeping to the edges, the way my father had taught me when we used to play hide-and-seek in the scrapyard near our old house. “Stay small, Ru,” he’d whisper. “The world never sees what it doesn’t expect.”
My throat tightened at the memory.
I reached the staircase and paused, listening. No one. Just the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen below and the rhythmic tick of a clock. I slipped down the steps, one hand grazing the railing, every nerve stretched tight.
The main doors loomed ahead. Heavy, reinforced. Two guards usually stood there at night, but right now, it was just me and the echo of my own pulse.
Almost there. I was halfway across the foyer when a voice made me freeze.
“Going somewhere, Runa?”
I turned slowly. Ashen stood in the archway leading from the hall, a vampire I recognized only vaguely.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with pale blond hair that brushed his collar, and eyes so pale they looked silver.
Roman’s man. Loyal, quiet, the kind of predator that didn’t need to raise his voice to be terrifying.
My mouth went dry. “I…I was just going for a walk.”
His brow arched slightly. “Without telling anyone?”
“I didn’t realize I needed permission to get some air,” I shot back before I could stop myself. My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
Ashen’s head tilted, a faint, knowing smirk touching his mouth. “Volken doesn’t strike me as the type who likes surprises. Especially not when they involve his mate disappearing.”
My pulse jumped. “You wouldn’t…”
He already had his phone in his hand. “He’d want to know.”
Panic spiked. I stepped forward. “Please, don’t call him. I just…I have to check something, okay? About my father.”
Ashen’s gaze softened for a fraction of a second. “You should tell him that. Not me.”
“I can’t,” I said quietly. “He’ll stop me.”
He sighed, glancing toward the door, then back at me. “You don’t understand what’s out there. What’s hunting out there.”
“I do.” My voice cracked. “And that’s why I have to go.”
For a moment, I thought he might let me. His jaw worked, conflict flickering in his eyes. Then, with a low exhale, he hit dial.
“Damn it!” I hissed.
“A precaution,” he said simply, raising the phone to his ear. “Volken? It’s Ashen. You need to get back here. Your mate just walked out of the mansion.”
I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I bolted.
The heavy doors groaned as I shoved them open, cool air rushing over my face. I ran across the gravel drive, heart pounding, the sound of my boots sharp against the stones. Somewhere behind me, I heard Ashen curse, his voice echoing “Runa! Stop!”
But I didn’t. I couldn’t, because if I stopped, I’d lose the only lead I had left. If I stopped, I’d lose my father forever.
The cold night air stung my lungs as I ran. Gravel crunched under my boots, the mansion looming behind me like some great sleeping beast. My breath came in quick, shallow bursts as I reached the iron gates, tall, black, and unyielding, the Dragic crest gleaming faintly in the moonlight.
Two guards materialized out of the shadows before I could even reach for the latch. Both vampires. Both lethal.
“Ma’am.” The one on the left…Calder, I thought his name was, stepped forward, his hand out like he was calming a wild animal. “You shouldn’t be out here.”
“I need to go,” I said, breathless, chest tight. “It’s important.”
His expression didn’t flicker. “Our orders are clear. No one leaves the grounds after nightfall without clearance from the brothers. Especially not you.”
Especially not me. The mate, the liability. Frustration surged hot in my chest. “My father’s out there! He could be…”
“Ma’am.” His tone sharpened. “I’m sorry.”
Sorry. The word sliced through me, useless and final.
I turned away, fighting the sting of tears, scanning the high walls that enclosed the Dragic estate like a fortress. If I couldn’t go through, I’d go around.
The stone perimeter stretched far into the trees, tall enough to make climbing impossible, lined with silver-etched wards that shimmered faintly when the moonlight hit them. My heart pounded as I followed the wall, keeping low, until I reached the side gate near the eastern woods.
It was smaller. Less guarded…usually. Except tonight. A single vampire stood there, back straight, eyes scanning the perimeter. He was young, probably newly turned, but the glint of his fangs in the moonlight told me enough. He’d smell me before I even reached him.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, pressing my palms to my knees, trying to think.
And that was when I heard it… The low growl of an engine. Tires screeching up the gravel drive.
I looked up just in time to see the black Escalade roar to a stop near the main doors. The headlights cut through the night, harsh and white, and the second the doors opened, my stomach dropped.
Volken. He was out before the vehicle fully stopped, and even from where I stood, I could feel it, the pulse of fury radiating off him like heat from a wildfire.
He barked something at one of the guards, his voice too low for me to hear, then turned to stride toward the house, until he froze.
His head lifted, nostrils flaring. And then he turned…straight toward me. Our eyes met across the courtyard, and my heart stopped.
Ashen stood a few yards behind me, arms folded, his phone still in his hand, expression unreadable. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just nodded once as if silently saying, you brought this on yourself.
Volken’s pace quickened. Then faster. His stride turned into a blur, long and purposeful, the shadows seeming to bend around him. By the time I took a single step back, he was there, his scent, his heat, his presence wrapping around me like a storm about to break.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he snarled, voice low and rough enough to vibrate through my bones. His hands came down on my arms, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make sure I couldn’t bolt.
“I was thinking that maybe someone has to actually do something about my father instead of just talking about it!” I fired back, chin tilted up even as my pulse stuttered.
His jaw clenched, his fangs flashing as he bared them in frustration. “You have no idea what’s out there. What could’ve happened to you.”
“I don’t care!” My voice cracked. “He’s my father, Volken! He raised me, protected me, and now he’s out there all alone, maybe dying, and you expect me to just sit here and do nothing?”
“I expect you to stay alive!”