Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Charlie held perfectly still, afraid that any movement might shatter Simon completely.
The hunter's body pressed against his, skin still damp with sweat, but there was nothing soft about the way Simon gripped him now.
Those fingers dug into Charlie's waist like Simon was trying to anchor himself to something real while his world crumbled.
"Ten years," Simon said against Charlie's shoulder. His voice came out steady, which was somehow worse than if he'd been screaming. "Ten years I spent taking his pills, following his orders, believing I owed him everything."
Charlie's hand moved to Simon's hair, stroking through the dark strands. The gesture felt inadequate against the magnitude of Simon's pain, but Simon didn't pull away.
"Every vampire I killed, I killed for her. To honor her memory. To make sure no other kid lost their mother like I did." A tremor ran through Simon's body. "But Reuben made me lose mine."
The absolute anger bleeding through their bond made Charlie's chest ache. Not his own emotion, but Simon's—raw and sharp enough to cut. But underneath the rage, Charlie felt something else. Grief so profound it threatened to drown them both.
"Simon..."
"Don't." Simon's grip tightened. "Don't try to make this better. Don't tell me we don't know for sure. I know, okay? I just know."
Charlie stayed quiet, just holding him. Letting Simon feel the grief he'd probably never been allowed to process. Fifteen-year-old Simon had been thrown into training, into pain, into becoming someone else's weapon.
Had he ever been allowed to just mourn his mother?
Probably not.
"She used to make terrible pancakes," Simon said suddenly. "Burned them every morning. I'd complain, and she'd laugh and say it built character." His voice cracked. "I haven't thought about that in years."
"Tell me about her."
Simon pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Charlie's face. "Why?"
"Because she deserves to be remembered as more than just your trauma." Charlie's thumb brushed across Simon's cheekbone. "And because you need to remember her as more than that too."
Simon's eyes searched Charlie's face, like he was trying to decide if Charlie meant it. "She worked two jobs," he said finally. "At a diner during the day and at night she was cleaning offices. She was always exhausted but never complained. Said we were a team."
Charlie shifted them carefully, so they were lying side by side, still pressed close but able to see each other properly. Simon's hand stayed on his waist, thumb moving in small, unconscious circles.
"She sang in the shower. Badly. Old rock songs from the eighties." A ghost of a smile touched Simon's lips. "The neighbors complained once, and she baked them apology cookies. But she burned those too."
Charlie laughed. "She sounds wonderful."
"She was tough. Had to be, raising me alone. I was an angry kid even before..." Simon trailed off. "Got into trouble at school arguing with my teachers. She'd show up to the principal's office in her diner uniform, grease stains and all, and somehow make them apologize to her."
Charlie could picture it. A woman with Simon's sharp intelligence and stubborn streak, facing down the world for her son.
"The night she died, she made spaghetti." Simon's voice went distant. "We were watching some terrible action movie. She fell asleep on the couch halfway through, the way she always did. I covered her with a blanket and went to my room to do homework."
Charlie stayed quiet, letting Simon tell it at his own pace.
"I heard the window break. But by the time I got to the living room..." Simon's jaw clenched. "She tried to protect me. Told me to run. Even while she was dying, she was trying to save me."
"She loved you."
"And Reuben used that love to chain me." Simon's hand stilled on Charlie's waist. "He knew exactly how."
Charlie watched Simon's face transform as the years of manipulation became visible in hindsight. The grief was still there, but something else was building beneath it.
"I'm going to destroy him," Simon said quietly.
Charlie felt the weight of those words through their bond, the absolute certainty behind them. Simon wasn't making a threat. He was stating a fact.
And in that moment, Charlie felt something unlock in his own chest.
"Good," he said.
Simon's gaze snapped to him. "Good?"
"He destroyed your life. He used your mother's death to control you." Charlie pushed himself up on one elbow. "He shouldn't get to keep living."
"You don't mean that."
"Why not?" The question came out sharper than Charlie intended. "Because I'm soft? Because I faint at blood? Because I turn into a rabbit?"
Simon studied him. "Because you're good."
"Maybe I'm tired of being good." Charlie sat up fully, the sheet falling away. "Good got me turned into a vampire as a joke. Good got me living off ketchup packets. Good got me nowhere."
"Charlie—"
"No, listen." Charlie's hands clenched in the sheets. "I've spent my entire life letting things happen to me. Before I was turned, after. Always apologizing, always shrinking, always hoping if I was harmless enough, people would leave me alone."
Simon stayed quiet, watching him with that focused intensity that used to make Charlie want to hide.
"But they don't leave me alone. They mock me or hunt me or use me." Charlie met Simon's gaze. "I'm done with it. Done being the joke. Done being helpless."
"You're not helpless."
"No?" Charlie laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Name one time I've actually done something instead of having it done to me."
Simon opened his mouth, then closed it.
"Exactly." Charlie pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. "Even drinking your blood, you had to force it on me. Everything in my life has been other people's decisions."
"So what are you deciding now?"
Charlie thought about it. Really thought about it, for maybe the first time since that night behind Rosie's.
"I'm deciding that I'll stop running." He looked at Simon. "I'm deciding to fight back."
"Against the Organization?"
"Against everyone who thinks they get to decide what I am.
" Charlie's voice grew steadier. "The vampires who say I'm wrong.
The hunters who say I'm a monster. The Organization that turns children into weapons.
" He felt his gaze narrow. "Being good doesn't mean I have to let terrible people get away with doing terrible things, does it? "
"Of course it doesn't. But…" Simon reached out to take his hand. "You don't know what you're asking for. War isn't clean. It's not just deciding to fight. It's blood and compromise and becoming things you never wanted to be."
"Then teach me."
"Charlie…"
"Teach me to be dangerous." Charlie squeezed Simon's hand.
Simon didn't look pleased at this prospect. "I'm not a good teacher. I only know how to hurt things."
"That's not true. You know how to protect things too. You protected me."
"By hurting other things."
"Then help me protect you." Charlie shifted closer. "Reuben is expecting you to come back broken and compliant. Or to run and hide. He's not expecting you to have backup."
"You're three weeks old. You can barely control your speed. You faint at blood."
"I'm four weeks old now." Charlie's jaw set stubbornly. "And I can do it. I'm not losing you to him."
The words hung between them, maybe too honest, definitely too intense for whatever this was between them. But Charlie meant them. This connection, forged in blood and unlikely understanding—he'd fight for it.
Simon pulled him closer, until Charlie was practically in his lap. "You don't even know me. Not really."
"I know enough." Charlie's hand found Simon's face. "I know you came back for me on that roof. I know you lied to your boss for me. I know you question orders even when it costs you everything." Charlie paused, then pressed on when he could sense Simon was about to protest again.
"I know you're furious and grieving and lost." Charlie's thumb brushed across Simon's cheekbone. "And I know you're mine, the same way I'm yours. Blood bond or not, we're connected. So we face this together."
Simon made a sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. "When did you get so brave?"
"About five minutes ago." Charlie managed a small smile. "I'm probably going to panic later."
"Probably?"
"Definitely. But right now, I'm choosing not to." He leaned his forehead against Simon's. "We're going to make Reuben pay. And then we're going to build something better. A world where enhanced humans don't have to be weapons and vampires don't have to be monsters."
A knock interrupted them.
"I know you're both awake," Viktor called through the door. "And while I'm happy you worked out your sexual tension, we may have a problem."
Charlie scrambled for clothes while Simon moved with the speed of someone used to springing into action, already half-dressed by the time Charlie found his pants.
"What kind of problem?" Simon called through the door.
"There's something you need to see." Viktor's voice carried an edge Charlie hadn't heard before. "Meet me in my room."
Simon exchanged a look with Charlie. The hollow feeling from earlier returned, settling in Charlie's chest like a stone.
Viktor's door was already open when they arrived. He had a laptop on his desk.
When had he smuggled that in here?
"I couldn't sleep, so I started digging." Viktor gestured at the screen. "I found the retreat's financial records. Guess what their primary source of funding is?"
Simon moved closer to look. Charlie watched his jaw tighten.
"Anonymous donations," Viktor continued. "Routed through shell corporations. The same shell corporations the Organization uses for their operations."
"What does that mean?" Charlie asked.
Simon's hand found the edge of the desk, gripping hard. "Nothing good."
"Exactly." Viktor closed the laptop and shoved it into the desk's drawer. "Someone's coming."
A second later, Maya opened the door. "Hey, just wanted to let you know breakfast is in twenty minutes." Her voice was bright and cheerful. "Fair warning, Sundays are when the elders join us. It's supposed to be some big community bonding thing. Super fun."
"Elders?" Simon asked.
"The ones who actually run this place. They usually keep to the west wing, but once a week they grace us with their presence." Maya turned to go again. "Wear something nice! Or don't. Connor showed up in pajamas last time and nobody cared."
The three of them stayed silent until she closed the door behind her and her footsteps retreated down the hall.
"I want to meet these elders," Simon said quietly.
Viktor shook his head. "That's probably a terrible idea."
"Probably." Simon headed for the door. "But I need to see who's really running this place."
Charlie followed him back to their room, his mind racing. This retreat had been too good to be true since he'd arrived. Blood that didn't make him sick, vampires who understood his struggles…
Of course it was a trap. His life didn't work any other way.
"We should leave," Charlie said as Simon changed into one of the fresh shirts the retreat had provided in his room. "Right now, before breakfast. Just grab Viktor and go."
Simon pulled the shirt over his head. "And go where? Back to my apartment where the Organization knows to find me? Your place that's in their files? We're already in their web, Charlie. Running won't change that."
"So what, we just walk into whatever this is?"
"We gather information." Simon checked his reflection in the mirror, adjusted his collar. "We figure out what's going on here." He turned to face Charlie. "And if I'm very lucky, I find someone who knows exactly what Reuben did to me."
The cold calculation in Simon's voice made Charlie shiver. This wasn't the Simon who'd held him a short while ago, who'd grieved for his mother. This was the hunter who'd killed four vampires in an alley without breaking a sweat.
Charlie grabbed Simon's hand before he could reach the door. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid."
"I can't promise that."
"Then promise you won't do it alone." Charlie squeezed his fingers. "Whatever happens at breakfast, we face it together."
Simon's expression softened slightly. He pulled Charlie close, pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Together," he agreed.
The walk to the dining room felt longer than it should have. Viktor joined them in the hallway, his usual easy demeanor replaced with a tense alertness. Other vampires drifted past them, chatting about their evening activities, completely oblivious to the tension.
Or pretending to be oblivious. Charlie couldn't tell anymore.
The dining room had been rearranged since last night. The long table now sat perpendicular to the windows, with additional seating added at the head. Maya waved at them from her spot near the middle.
"Come sit! Connor saved you seats."
They moved to join the familiar faces. Thomas nodded in greeting, his usual book abandoned for once. Connor barely looked up from adjusting his napkin, folding and refolding it for no apparent reason.
"Is it always like this?" Charlie whispered to Maya.
"Elder breakfast? Yeah. They like to pretend we're one big happy family." Maya's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Just smile and nod. It'll be over in an hour."
The side door opened.
Five vampires entered, and Charlie immediately understood why Maya had called them elders. Not because of their apparent age—several looked younger than Simon—but because of the weight they carried. Centuries of existence settled on their shoulders like invisible cloaks.
The one in front was a tall woman with smooth skin and silver hair pulled back in an elegant twist. She smiled at the gathered vampires.
"Good morning, everyone. I hope you all had a restful evening."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.
"For those who are new this week, I'm Emerald. I founded Reconnect twenty years ago with a simple vision. I wanted to provide a place where our kind could exist peacefully, ethically, without the violence that defines so much of vampire culture."
Charlie felt Simon go rigid beside him.
"We're joined today by some of our community's founding members," Emerald continued, gesturing to the vampires behind her. "They've been instrumental in creating the sanctuary you all enjoy."
The other four vampires took their seats at the head of the table. Charlie didn't pay much attention to them, too focused on the way Simon had gone completely still.
Charlie leaned closer, keeping his voice barely a whisper. "What's wrong?"
"Third from the left," Simon breathed. "The one in the gray suit."
Charlie looked. The vampire in question appeared to be in his mid-forties, though that meant nothing with vampires. Brown hair going silver at the temples, the kind of face that belonged in corporate boardrooms. Nothing remarkable. Nothing threatening.
"That's the vampire who killed my mother."