Chapter 13 Kyle
Kyle
Iwalked up to the closed gates of Brock’s compound-style home, adrenaline fueling every step I took, no idea what I would find inside. I could very well have made myself persona non grata by stealing Esmé’s thrall if she’d already gone tattling to her maker.
The little camera whirred slightly as it focused on me, and I pressed the button on the intercom then stepped back as the huge gate began to slide open before anyone even spoke.
The yard inside was deserted, everywhere quiet, but Brock was leaning against the wall of one of the outbuildings I’d noticed before. The ones where it looked like anything could happen — the outbuildings I didn’t particularly want to be inside of, if I was honest with myself.
When Brock smiled, it was with malevolence, his ever-present fangs pressing against his lower lip.
I glanced at the main house, but the blank windows gave nothing away.
The rest of the Blackblood soldiers could have been watching from inside, or they could all have been asleep and dreaming of brightly colored flowers and white fluffy clouds.
Brock shouldn’t have been expecting me, though, so the very fact he was waiting like he was suggested he had more eyes on the street than I knew about. I’d have to be more careful still going forward and tell Jason the same.
“What time do you call this?” He made a big show of checking his watch like we’d had an appointment.
I shrugged. “I’m awake.” I grunted the words but made it clear I felt like I was doing him the favor.
His eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed but then he nodded and stepped away from the wall. “We’re taking things to the next level.”
I didn’t say anything. Silence was always my advantage.
“Against the Duponts,” he clarified before confusion flickered through his gaze like he wasn’t used to clarifying things for his subordinates.
Still, I waited. He hadn’t given me any information to respond to. I stood at ease before him, my hands clasped behind my back, my feet apart. At ease could still quickly become on attack but for now I was his good little soldier, and I wanted him to be confident in that.
His grin widened before he spoke next. “We’re going on the offensive and taking out the so-called king’s crew.”
His words sent a chill through me, but I braced my muscles and stood still, my expression neutral. This morning wasn’t about Sam at all, but whether Brock knew it or not, he was still about to test me.
“In fact, we’ve already started leveling up. Got our first volunteers already.” He chuckled darkly as he pushed the door open to the building.
The interior was dark and like everywhere else in this city, it smelled of swamp.
The air was warm and wet, and for a moment there didn’t seem to be anything in here.
An empty outhouse. I readied to run — perhaps I’d walked straight into a trap.
But then there was a movement in the corner and as my gaze sharpened, I looked straight into the faces of four vampires.
Four vampires I knew very well.
My soldiers.
Men I’d trained in their techniques. Men I should have been disappointed in that they were now sitting in Brock’s makeshift prison, their wrists and feet bound with silver chain.
Men who could fucking give me away with a single word or wrong look now that they’d seen my face.
They all wore gags, though, which made it easier to trust they wouldn’t say anything, but their eyes widened as I stood in front of them, and each man went still. I could almost see their minds turning, wondering if I was here to be their savior or their angel of death.
The shuffling and fidgeting stopped, and one by one, each man went still, as if they were waiting for orders from me, which proved at least that I’d trained them well.
It wasn’t the response I wanted from them right now, though.
They needed to continue fearing their situation if they weren’t about to give us all away.
“Well, well…” Brock swiveled his gaze to me, something hard in his expression.
“What did you just do to them?” His eyes narrowed again like they always did when he seemed to be considering exactly who I was.
“This is the quietest they’ve been. It’s like they’re waiting for you to speak, soldier.
” He stressed the last word, sarcasm evident in his tone.
I didn’t say anything. One wrong word and one of my men could give all of us away.
I couldn’t even look at them in case they saw my fear.
And I was still disappointed in them. Fuck it all.
I thought I’d trained them better than this, and now look at them.
I didn’t even know if I could save them.
I couldn’t do anything to jeopardize my mission.
But neither were my men just disposable.
They’d put me in an impossible position. Their presence here could kill us all.
Brock shifted his weight and folded his arms over his barrel chest. “Kill them all.” His words were stark and without inflection…
and directed at me. This wasn’t an emotive issue for him.
“I need to send a message to the Duponts. Sebastian Dupont needs to return to Baton Rouge. New Orleans is ours now.”
That was all this was to him. A message. I couldn’t fault his tactics. But my position had just gotten worse.
My men. How could I just kill them? And they were clearly thinking the same.
They each watched me, their eyes widening.
A couple of them even shuffled backward, but the more trusting ones stayed exactly where they were.
Those men didn’t believe I’d kill them, and that ripped at my insides, because even I didn’t know what I was about to do.
The mission to take down the Blackbloods had to come above all else. So much rested on it. I owed Nic everything, and he was depending on me to help secure his reign here. This mission was vital. Critical to the future.
But my men.
The door burst open behind us and Esmé entered in a whirlwind of white-blonde hair and some sort of gauzy dress. She moved so fast she was almost a blur, and she growled as she crossed the space toward the imprisoned vampires.
I flipped into a battle-ready stance. There was no telling what she’d do now that she was here, or whether she’d tell Brock about Sam. Maybe I’d need to fight both of them off to get out of here. Well, whatever she was about to do, I was ready.
Except she reached my men, and they cried out as her clawed fingers flashed through the air in front of them, and blood spurted from them, covering us all in the warm, copper-scented fluid. I hadn’t expected that.
I wiped my face and let the drips fall to the dusty concrete floor. The rich red splotches shone wetly in a shaft of sunlight that fell through the high, narrow windows.
I was torn between rage and relief. Esmé had killed my men.
But Esmé had killed my men. I no longer had to. The job was done.
Rage nearly won out, though, when she finally stopped her frenzied movements and turned to me, a vindictive smile curving her lips. I wanted to tear her apart and seek vengeance for the lost lives of men I had trained and lived with. For the violence.
She sidled closer to me, nearly touching my ear with her mouth as she murmured words meant just for me.
“That was for Sam.” Then she whirled away again and ran a hand down Brock’s arm. “We have bigger problems than just a few captive vampires,” she informed him, and my stomach clenched.
She could say anything now. The mission could be over in a moment, and I could join the vampire corpses Esmé had just left on the ground. If she told him.
I clenched my fists, working on looking as neutral as I could. Brock couldn’t be allowed to see that I cared about what Esmé had just done — or that not knowing her next play made me uneasy. I tamped down my rage. I just needed to wait. I couldn’t plan for what I didn’t know.
Brock covered Esmé’s hand with his own, stopping the movement up and down his arm, although I couldn’t tell if it was an affectionate gesture or a threatening one when he squeezed her fingers and her lips parted on a hissed breath. She looked like the kind to enjoy pain.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his smile thin and fake.
“The Duponts have found your warehouse. They’ve stolen the alcohol.” She flashed me a glance like I must have been the one who’d led Sebastian to his wine and spirits, but this new development was as much a surprise to me as it was to Brock, and I let that surprise show.
Brock needed to see it, needed to see my loyalty to his cause.
A low rumble sounded from his chest. And he turned abruptly, striding from the building.
Esmé hurried after him, trying to catch his arm like she might be able to draw him to a stop.
When he finally faced her, his cheekbones were prominent, his eyes glowing a dull red.
“Get that carnage in there cleaned up,” he roared as he pointed to the door of the outbuilding.
“Then come into the house. We have a lot to discuss.” He crooked a finger at me.
“You come now. You just got extra clearance.”
Esmé slanted a glare at me, and I allowed myself a small shrug.
It was dangerous to piss her off right now, but I couldn’t help but poke that bear as I pondered my new status with Brock.
I hadn’t done anything but be in the right place at the right time.
I wanted to find out what my new status meant, but Brock was already stomping up the steps to the deck.
I followed him, concealing my amusement as he shouldered roughly past the armed guys who’d materialized in their usual position at the top of the stairs.