Chapter 34
Chapter
Thirty-Four
Charlie crouched in the shadows of the Organization's service entrance, his heart hammering against his ribs.
The night air carried the scent of rain and wet concrete, but beneath it lurked something antiseptic and clinical.
The building loomed above him, all smooth concrete and tinted windows, like a fortress disguised as an office complex.
"Comms check," Viktor's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Everyone online?"
"Here," Charlie whispered, pressing the transmitter clipped to his shirt.
"Ready at the front," came Brent's voice, tight with nervous energy. "Man, this is just like a spy movie, isn't it?"
"Focus," Noah's voice came through. "Surveillance disabled in sectors one through four," he added. "You have twenty-eight minutes before the systems reset."
Charlie took a deep breath. Twenty-eight minutes to infiltrate a building full of professional vampire hunters, find Simon, and somehow break through whatever Reuben had done to him.
Easy, right?
He gulped.
"Here goes nothing," he murmured, clutching the tiny backpack that held a cloth for him to cover himself with when he came back out of rabbit form later.
Though maybe the shock of seeing him naked would help convince Simon?
No, this was not the time to be entertaining such thoughts.
Charlie focused inward, seeking that strange shimmer that preceded transformation. For once, his body cooperated immediately. The tingle started in his fingers, spreading up his arms and across his chest.
Once he was transformed, his sensitive ears caught the first notes of chaos from the front entrance. Shouting, a car alarm, Brent's voice rising above it all with impressive theatrical outrage. Whatever he was doing, it sounded effective.
Charlie looked toward the maintenance door just as a uniformed guard stepped out for a smoke. He froze, pressing himself flat against the wall. The guard lit his cigarette, exhaled a plume of smoke, then frowned at something in his earpiece.
"Copy that," the guard said. "On my way."
The guard jogged toward the front entrance, leaving the service door slightly ajar.
That was... convenient.
Charlie's rabbit instincts screamed caution, but he pushed past them and squeezed through the gap. Inside, the service corridor stretched ahead, illuminated by harsh overhead lights. According to Noah's floor plans, he needed to find a ventilation access point in the third maintenance closet.
The backpack weighed on him, but he managed to scurry down the hallway undetected. The first door he passed was locked. The second stood open, revealing cleaning supplies. The third…
Charlie's ears twitched at approaching footsteps. He dove into the shadow of a trash bin just as two security personnel rushed past, speaking urgently into their radios.
"All units to the front entrance. Some bodybuilder guy is threatening to sue us for running over his dog."
"What dog?"
"Hell if I know. Just get up there."
Charlie waited until they disappeared around a corner before darting into the third maintenance room. The ventilation grate sat near the floor, exactly where Noah said it would be. And strangely, the screws holding it in place were already loose.
Charlie's rabbit brain registered the wrongness, but his vampire determination pushed forward. He squeezed through the grate into the metal duct beyond.
The ventilation system was a maze of intersecting passages, but Charlie had memorized his route. Three junctions left, two right, then straight until the drop that would lead to the sub-levels.
As he moved deeper into the building, the bond in his chest began to pulse stronger. Simon was here. Close. The connection tugged at him like a fishhook behind his ribs, guiding him more surely than any floor plan.
"Charlie, check in." Viktor's voice was tinny through the earpiece somehow still attached to his rabbit ear. "Noah says you're off course."
Charlie paused at a junction. The floor plan said to go left, but the bond pulled him right. He hesitated, whiskers twitching.
"Something's wrong," Viktor continued. "There's minimal security on shift tonight."
Charlie's rabbit instincts and vampire intuition aligned in sudden clarity. This was too easy.
He continued forward anyway. Simon was here. Simon needed him. Even if it was a trap—and every fiber of his being now screamed that it was—he had to try.
The ventilation shaft widened as he descended, eventually opening into a larger maintenance tunnel. The drop was steeper than expected. Charlie tumbled out, landing awkwardly on concrete. The backpack cushioned his fall but still left him disoriented.
Pushing through the dizziness, he concentrated on shifting back. His vampire body responded readily, fur receding, limbs extending. A moment later, he crouched naked in the dim tunnel, the backpack beside him.
Quickly, Charlie wrapped the cloth around him. He was still half-naked, but there was only so much a seven-pound rabbit could carry, and besides, his state of undress wasn't important; the bond with Simon throbbed harder now, a steady pulse that couldn't be ignored.
So close.
"Viktor," he whispered into the comms. "I'm in the lower levels. Simon is nearby."
Static crackled in response.
"Viktor? Noah?" Charlie tapped the earpiece. Nothing but white noise. "Great."
Just great.
What was he going to do?
The only thing he could do.
He cautiously moved forward. The tunnel eventually opened into a sterile hallway lined with unmarked doors.
The bond yanked sharply to the right. Charlie followed it to a heavy metal door with no window, no keypad, no apparent security measures. Just a standard handle.
Every instinct warned him to turn back, but Charlie's hand reached for the handle anyway.
It turned easily.
The door swung open to reveal a stark white room. In the center stood Simon, dressed in black tactical gear, his posture military-straight. His eyes fixed on Charlie with no recognition, no emotion.
"Simon?" Charlie's voice caught in his throat.
"Right on time." Another voice. Charlie recognized it from that one time he'd heard it on the phone. Reuben.
"Charlie, is it?" His smile didn't reach his eyes as he stood there dressed in an immaculate suit. As if it was just another night at the office. "Simon's little project. I've heard so much about you."
Charlie's gaze flicked between Reuben and Simon, who remained unnaturally still. The bond between them pulsed, but Simon's expression betrayed nothing. No recognition, no warmth, nothing of the man who'd kissed Charlie with such desperation just days ago.
"What did you do to him?" Charlie's fingers curled into fists.
"I reminded him of his purpose." Reuben circled behind Simon, placing a hand on his shoulder. Simon didn't even flinch. "Cleared away the confusion your entanglement created. He's himself again."
"He's not!" Charlie took a step forward. The makeshift cloth around his waist suddenly felt inadequate against the clinical chill of the room. "Simon, look at me. Really look at me."
Simon's eyes remained fixed on some point beyond Charlie's shoulder, his posture military-straight, his breathing measured and controlled. Nothing about him suggested he recognized Charlie at all.
"Simon," Reuben said, his voice gentle as if speaking to a child, "show our guest what happens to vampires who interfere with Organization business."
Simon moved.
But not with the explosive speed Charlie had witnessed in the alley behind Rosie's, but with deliberate, measured steps. His face remained expressionless as he approached, like a machine executing a program.
Charlie stood his ground even as his instincts screamed at him to run. He couldn't run now. Not from this. "Simon, I know you're in there. I can feel you." He pressed a hand to his chest, where he could still pick up the faintest hint of their bond.
Simon didn't respond. Not in words, anyway. He kept moving toward Charlie.
"Simon—"
The hunter's hand shot out, closing around Charlie's throat.
Fuck.
Charlie gasped. The pressure around his throat wasn't crushing but firm enough to make breathing difficult.
And then he was slammed back against the wall.
"There, you see?" Reuben said from across the room. "Whatever happened between you means nothing. Finish it, Simon. Let's be done with this distraction."
Simon's other hand came up to Charlie's chest, directly over his heart.
Right where he would bury a stake if he were holding one.
His palm pressed flat, fingers splayed. The pressure increased slowly, like Simon was calculating exactly how much force would be required to punch through Charlie's ribcage.
But he wasn't punching.
And he wasn't pulling a weapon either.
If Charlie knew anything, it was that Simon could kill him in two seconds flat if he really wanted to.
But did he want to, or was he struggling against the grip Reuben had on him?
Charlie knew how difficult it was to fight an order from one's sire. He knew that it felt like the worst thing in the world to disappoint them. But he also knew that it could be done, and if Charlie could do it, so could Simon.
"You don't have to do this," Charlie whispered, too quietly for Reuben to hear. "You can fight him."
Simon's fingers tightened fractionally on Charlie's throat, but his eyes flickered with the briefest flash of something human.
"I said finish it!" Reuben's voice sharpened with impatience.
Simon's body tensed. Charlie felt the command take hold, felt Simon's resistance weaken under its weight. The hand on his chest pressed harder, the beginnings of real force behind it now.
Charlie's mind raced.
This couldn't be how this ended. It couldn't be.
But how could Charlie get through to Simon?
Charlie had been able to disobey Simon's command once, but the hold Reuben seemed to have on Simon was so much stronger in comparison. Reuben had had years to strengthen his control. Years in which he'd fed Simon his blood.
Blood.
That was what it came down to, wasn't it?
The thought made Charlie's stomach turn, but what if he fed Simon his own blood? Would that reignite the bond between them?
Even now, after everything, his body rebelled at the idea. His gums tingled as his fangs descended against his will, and a wave of dizziness swept over him. "You can do this," he told himself. "For Simon."
Charlie raised his arm, positioning his wrist near his mouth.
Simon's grip on his throat loosened slightly, confusion flickering across his face at Charlie's movement.
Charlie ignored him. He needed to focus.
He brought his wrist closer to his lips, fangs grazing his own skin. His heart hammered painfully against his ribs.
God, was he really going to do this?
Yes, he was.
"Don't faint," he commanded himself. "Don't you dare faint now."
With a shuddering breath, Charlie bit down.
The taste hit him immediately. It was wrong, so wrong, and it made his head swim with nausea. The same sick dizziness that had plagued him since his turning washed over him. Charlie's vision darkened at the edges, his stomach revolting at the contact with his own blood.
But he pushed through it, tearing through skin and vein. Blood, his blood, welled immediately, the sight of it making his knees go weak.
"Simon," Charlie gasped, holding out his bleeding wrist while fighting to stay conscious. "Drink."
Simon's nostrils flared. His eyes fixed on the blood, pupils dilating sharply. The hand at Charlie's throat went completely slack.
"What is this?" Reuben took a step forward. "Simon, I ordered you to finish this. Now."
Simon's body jerked as the command took hold again. His grip returned to Charlie's throat, pinning him more firmly against the wall. But his eyes never left the blood dripping from Charlie's wrist.
"You know me," Charlie insisted, pushing through the dizziness, the nausea. He pressed his bleeding wrist closer to Simon's face. "You chose me over everything. Remember how you saved me? From the roof? From myself?"
For an eternal moment, Simon didn't move. Then, almost imperceptibly, his head tilted toward Charlie's bleeding wrist. His nostrils flared again, drinking in the scent. His eyes, still cold, held a new intensity.
"Simon!" Reuben's voice cracked across the room. "I said finish it!"
Simon went rigid. He slammed Charlie harder against the wall, knocking the breath from him. His free hand pinned Charlie's bleeding wrist above his head, away from temptation.
"No," Charlie gasped, struggling against Simon's grip. His vision swam, both from the impact and from his body's continued protest at his self-inflicted wound. "Please, Simon. It's me. It's Charlie."
"He can't hear you," Reuben said, approaching now. "Not anymore. My blood has burned away everything he felt for you." He reached into his jacket and withdrew a polished wooden stake. "Here, Simon. Since you seem to be dragging this out, allow me to provide the proper tool."
Simon released Charlie's wrist to take the stake, but his other hand kept Charlie firmly pinned to the wall. The moment the stake touched his palm, something shifted in Simon's expression, but the emotion was gone too quickly for Charlie to tell what it was.
"Simon," Charlie whispered, his voice breaking. "I know you're still in there."
Simon raised the stake to Charlie's chest, its point pressing against skin.
"That's it," Reuben encouraged. "One clean thrust. End this distraction."
Charlie closed his eyes, tears burning behind his lids. He'd failed. The bond wasn't strong enough. His blood wasn't enough to break Reuben's hold.
He was going to die here, staked like the pathetic excuse for a vampire he was.
Then he felt it—Simon's body shifting closer, the stake still pressed to his chest but not driving forward. The slight tremor in Simon's hand.
Could it be…?
Charlie opened his eyes to find Simon's face inches from his own. To Reuben, it must have looked like Simon was positioning for a better angle to drive the stake home. But Charlie saw the battle raging behind those cold eyes, felt the resistance through their bond.
Simon leaned forward, his lips almost brushing Charlie's ear.
"Trust me," he whispered, so softly that only Charlie could hear.
Before Charlie could process the words, Simon's head dipped to his neck. Charlie felt warm breath against his skin, then the sharp press of fangs. The points broke skin, and Charlie gasped at the strange, electric sensation of Simon drinking from him.