Blood Vows (Garnet Dagger Mafia #3)

Chapter 1

THE QUESTIONS THAT PLAGUE MINDS

My name is Vasileios…Vasileios Erebus.”

I couldn’t believe it.

As soon as he said his last name, I gasped, one he didn’t hear as he closed the door, leaving me with this bombshell. He was… he was their brother.

Granted, I didn’t know much about them, as, well, I hadn’t really had much chance to ask about their family.

Still, after everything they’d discovered about my appalling upbringing, you would have thought that might have prompted them to open up.

To talk about their own dysfunctional family and, more importantly, the fact that they had a brother.

I guess that was easy to say, considering I hadn’t exactly been up front and open to them about my own past. I had only talked about it once I had been backed into a corner, after being terrorized by the man who had brought me here. My rescuer turned kidnapper in a heartbeat.

Not that I was surprised, considering he had stalked my dreams for the last few nights, and the threat of him kidnapping me had become very real.

Although even I had to admit that his version of abducting me had been a far better experience than my last one. Especially considering I’d ended up dangling like a fish on a hook, fearing for my life, dealing with a crazy Vampire mafia boss intent on revenge.

But if their brother thought I had questions before, then he was sorely mistaken, because now my mind was reeling, and I had too many questions to count! Starting with, was he an estranged brother or someone they had no idea even existed?

I had no answers, and clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to give me any. No doubt he’d put me in this room hoping I would remain silent and compliant for the rest of my stay. I might have remained silent, had I not glimpsed that unexpected softness beneath the monster’s mask in the kitchen.

He had quickly become an enigma, making me question so many aspects of his reasoning, like the way he acted, and the way he looked at me.

Where clearly, I was supposed to be a means to an end.

It didn’t take a genius to realize this was the man the witch had been working for, and that his ultimate goal was to use me to get the dagger.

Of course, the questions kept coming, ones I kept asking myself even after I found the bathroom.

Quickly deciding more than anything that I needed to wash off the stench of death, hoping that somehow it could scrub away the memory of it too.

Not that I was sad to see my kidnappers get what they deserved.

But still, the whole thing was enough to give me a new set of nightmares for the rest of my life.

Even then, I remembered him warning me not to look, as if he wanted to shield me from even more horror. Why would he do that? Why would the man who created my nightmares want to protect me from any others?

It made no sense.

I looked to the windows and could barely believe I was in England.

Of course, most people had dreams of travelling the world and seeing new places, but naturally, I never had.

Statistically speaking, it wasn’t something that was ever going to happen for someone like me, not when I’d been barely scraping by for so long.

And yet, here I was, in England, halfway across the world, on the other side of an ocean, wondering how the hell I was going to get out of it.

Anyone else in my situation might have seen the unlocked door as an obvious means of escape.

But the ease with which he’d told me I had no chance of running, I knew it wasn’t an empty threat.

Because there had been something in his tone that didn’t sound like a scare tactic.

It felt like a fact, something absolute, as if written in stone.

If he’d wanted to keep me locked in, he would have done it.

He must have known that fear was the only cage he needed, that it would hold me just as tightly as any lock ever could, and he would have been right. The thought made me wonder what he would do if he found me snooping.

He’d made it very clear that I wasn’t to go near a certain side of the house. I assumed it was his private wing, but what if it wasn’t? The thought plagued me. What else could he be hiding? Were there others he had taken?

Was I just one of many?

It sounded ridiculous, I knew it did. After all, the only thing he wanted was the dagger. And by his own admission, the only thing valuable enough for his brothers to bargain with was me, the one they called their Moirai Theía.

Their Fated.

It made me wonder how long he had known about me.

Had he been watching me since that first day I had left that witch, running out of there, freaked out and cursed.

Had he been the one who had asked her to do it, to make the brothers believe I meant something to them, so that he could use me to get what he wanted.

Needless to say, I still didn’t have any answers. And the one man who did have them was the one I was slightly terrified of. He’d told me he wouldn’t hurt me if I followed the rules. But surely, he couldn’t expect me to stay locked away in this room the entire time.

Still, I wasn’t about to test that theory without a shower first. The bathroom matched the rest of the house, or at least, what little I had seen of it so far. It was luxurious, modern, but still in keeping with the old-world charm of a manor house.

In fact, it looked like it belonged in another century, every detail whispering of old-world wealth and hidden secrets.

Polished marble that stretched across the floor in soft shades of cream and grey, cool beneath my bare feet.

A claw-footed bathtub sat beneath a wide arched window draped in lace, the glass mottled and rippled with age, allowing only fragments of the moonlight to spill through.

Dark wooden panelling climbed halfway up the walls, meeting plaster the color of candle smoke.

The scent of lavender and something faintly metallic hung in the air.

I turned the fancy taps, and the water ran with a deep, steady sound that echoed off the stone like a heartbeat.

Gilded mirrors reflected the soft flicker of light from the antique sconces, and I couldn’t help but wonder how many lives had stared back from that same glass.

Ones less beaten and pitiful, no doubt.

He hadn’t lied when he said everything I needed was already there.

Though, I hadn’t checked the closet yet, too focused on washing away the night, desperate to scrub off the memory of it.

And as I washed my skin raw, the memory of that man’s hands on me turned my stomach, and for the first time, I found myself unbelievably grateful for the moment their brother had come to rescue me.

Ironically, despite all the questions and night’s events still spinning through my mind, by the time I stepped out of the shower, he had been right. I was crashing hard, the adrenaline bleeding away, leaving me emotionally and physically drained. Not surprising, considering the beating I’d taken.

But I also thought about Tal and Victor, knowing they would no doubt be worried sick. I couldn’t stop wondering what came next. Would he contact them for ransom? Would the dagger be the price they’d have to pay?

And what if they didn’t want to pay it? What then?

What if it was too high of a price for the girl they had been cursed into loving?

Because I already knew firsthand how important the dagger was to them.

So, were they really willing to go to war?

Or risk the threat of one? I didn’t know.

But I feared both outcomes, because no matter which way it went, it was going to end badly.

Selfishly, yes, I wanted to believe they would give anything to save me. But the unselfish part of me couldn’t help but question how dangerous it would be for them if they did. From what I’d gathered, if that dagger ever fell into the wrong hands, the result could be catastrophic.

I felt foolish for trusting the enemy. But in the height of my emotions, I couldn’t help myself. I had seen that picture of Stacey and panicked. What I should have done was tell someone. I should have walked out of that bathroom and trusted them to handle it.

But I hadn’t.

I’d assumed they’d lied. That I couldn’t trust them. When in truth, that picture must have been taken before she was rescued, and I had fallen for it, like an idiot.

Wrapping myself in a big, fluffy towel, I stepped back into the bedroom and finally took in the details I hadn’t noticed before.

It felt like stepping back in time. The air was still, carrying a faint trace of something old.

Like aged wood, candle smoke, and a hint of sandalwood that I suspected clung to him.

The furniture was carved from dark mahogany, each piece heavy and ornate, like something rescued from a forgotten century.

A grand four-poster bed dominated the room, its high frame wrapped in sheer, ghostly drapes.

A gilded mirror hung above the fireplace, its surface dulled with time, reflecting the soft flicker of the candles that burned low in their sconces.

The walls were lined with shelves filled with books, the spines worn and faded, but each one cared for like memories he couldn’t bring himself to let go of.

However, on inspection, each one was useless to me as they were in different languages.

The curtains were thick, woven with golden fleur-de-lis over deep burgundy fabric, the kind of pattern that whispered of nobility and hidden sins. They matched the rich velvet chaise in the corner, the kind of thing you’d expect in a room meant for both comfort and control.

It was hauntingly beautiful, decadent in a way that shouldn’t have belonged to someone who lived in shadows.

But then again, nothing about him seemed to fit neatly into the world I thought I understood.

This room was no exception. It felt alive, like it was holding its breath… waiting, watching…just like I was.