Chapter 30 Marcus
MARCUS
Icould kill Leonard for intruding on my time with Esmerelda.
The thought of him almost seeing her naked makes me want to rip his eyeballs out and shove them up his ass so he can see what an asshole he is.
But also, I didn’t want the bubble we were in to burst. Especially when I could feel the shift in Esmerelda.
I wanted to explore it more. Hell, I wanted her to tell me outright how she felt, but then…
I shouldn’t blame Leonard. He was only doing the right thing.
I’ve just managed to whip up cheese-and-mushroom omelets for everyone and am halfway through eating when an almighty, bloodcurdling scream tears through the house.
It’s a blade of pure terror that slices through me, cold and merciless. A wave of ice rushes through my veins, bursting out across my flesh in goosebumps. The fork slips from my fingers, clattering uselessly against the plate.
We all jump to our feet at once. Chairs scrape back so violently they crash to the floor, dishes rattle, the sharp clatter of metal and ceramic punctuating the chaos.
And still the screaming goes on—one giant wave of terror crashing after another, endlessly battering the air.
The sound roots itself in my bones. It’s a sound I never want to hear again.
We bolt for the stairs, pounding down them two at a time.
My chest is tight, my heart hammering like it will tear right out of me at any moment.
It takes mere seconds to get downstairs but in that time I have imagined every single worst-case scenario.
The most prevalent of those being that Maximillian discovered where we are and has come to finish off the job.
We burst into the chamber, and I scan the room for any threats. There are none.
Victoria thrashes in her coffin, so violently the wood groans like it might split beneath her. Her eyes are wide and wild, gleaming with a feral edge, blood tears streaming down her face. Her whole body shakes, trembling in spasms that seem impossible for her small frame to contain.
I don’t think, just move. I rush forward, desperate to get to her, to still her, but the moment I reach out, her fangs snap down with a vicious hiss, claws flashing through the air. She looks like a cornered wolf, ready to tear apart anyone stupid enough to close the distance.
“Be careful!” Esmerelda shouts, lurching forward, but Minerva is faster. She locks an arm around Esmerelda’s waist, dragging her back up a couple of the stairs, keeping her clear. I see the fear in Esmerelda’s eyes even as she struggles, but Minerva doesn’t let go.
I turn back to Victoria. “Hey, hey.” My voice comes out hoarse, unsteady, but I force it into something calm, something grounding. I raise my hands slowly, palms out, in surrender. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe.”
But she doesn’t hear me. Every time anyone shifts a fraction closer, she recoils harder, pressing herself against the coffin like she’s trying to vanish into the wood.
Her sobs rip out of her, jagged and feral, the sound of something tearing apart from the inside.
And it’s worse, so much worse, than the sounds she made when her body was burning alive.
The thought slams into me so hard I nearly stagger.
She doesn’t remember. All she knows is what her body tells her, that she has been through something unspeakable, something that shredded her.
Waking in pieces. No context. No memory.
Only terror. What must that feel like? To open your eyes and find only strangers and silence, to not know who lived, who died?
I can’t imagine. I can’t even think about it.
“Victoria,” I say, gentler this time, like speaking to a skittish animal. My voice shakes, but I force it steady. “Look at me. Just me. Breathe with me. Inhale… exhale. Inhale… exhale.”
At first she only cries harder, crouched down and ready to spring if she gets the opportunity.
Panic radiates off her in waves. But slowly, painfully, her chest hitches, then steadies.
She mirrors me, ragged inhales, sharp exhales.
Her gaze locks onto mine as if I’m the only thing tethering her to the world.
“That’s it,” I whisper, lips twitching into a smile I don’t feel but give her anyway. “Stay with me. You’re going to be okay. Keep breathing for me, all right?”
Her voice breaks, raw, small, fragile. “What… what happened?”
I swallow hard. My tongue feels like lead. “Your brother attacked your coven.”
The words detonate inside her. Her face flickers through emotions—confusion, recognition, horror, pain. It’s like watching a reel of devastation play out frame by frame. The truth slams into her in a single word:
“Maximillian.”
The name itself seems to undo her. Her body convulses, trembling violently, teeth chattering so hard I fear she might snap them.
I shrug off my jacket, my fingers clumsy, and edge forward slowly, carefully, like coaxing a wounded bird out of the trap. “Here. You’re in shock. Let me cover you.”
This time she doesn’t fight me. Her fingers close over the fabric, pale and trembling against the dark blue, clutching it like it’s the only anchor she has left.
“Victoria,” I try again, soft as I can. “Do you remember everything that happened?”
Fresh blood tears spill down her cheeks. “Where is everyone?”
Silence as heavy as a graveyard descends upon the room. My ears ring with it, my chest squeezing so tight I can barely breathe. She looks at each of us, her eyes pleading. But none of us speak. Because how do you tell someone they’ve lost everything?
Finally, Esmerelda comes forward. She moves slowly, her body angled like she’s approaching a wild thing, her voice low and steady. “Augustus and Dorian didn’t make it out. Your father led us to safety. He made sure we got you here. His last thoughts were of you, Victoria. Only you.”
The words strike, sink, and then they break her.
Her face crumbles, and the scream that rips out of her is inhuman.
Raw, primal, unbearable. It carves through me like a blade.
She bolts from the coffin, her foot catching on the edge of the wood.
When she stumbles forward, I lunge to catch her, but she shoves me away with strength only despair can give and makes her way up the stairs.
By the time we catch her, she’s collapsed on the grass outside. Her arms lock around herself, her body rocking with sobs.
I drop to my knees beside her and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She doesn’t resist, but my comfort is useless. I fear no comfort will ever help me after what happened to my family, so why would it for her?
Her ruined face turns toward me. “I wanted to see the dawn,” she whispers, voice raw. “I wanted to go with him. I don’t want to do this without him.”
My throat seizes, but I force the words out anyway. “Victoria, your father died believing you were safe. If you give up now, if you let that go, it makes his sacrifice meaningless. I know the pain. We lost our families, too. But honor him by living.”
Behind me, Esmerelda, Minerva, and Leonard stand silent in their shared grief. Serafina and Belvedere linger at the edge of the courtyard, giving us space.
Victoria’s sob tears free again, sharper this time. The keening wail rattles me to the marrow. She cries until her body can’t anymore, until exhaustion wrings her dry. I can’t tell if it’s my words or sheer collapse, but she finally stills, limp in my arms.
We guide her back inside, where she sinks into a chair, her skin gray as ash, eyes hollow. More ghost than girl.
Minerva kneels beside her, placing a hand gently over hers. “Do you need blood?”
Victoria nods, voice rasping. “Yes. But… all our stores were in the coven. They’re gone.”
“We know,” Leonard says. “We’ll help you.”
Her eyes widen, suspicion and despair tangling in them. “Why? Why would you share something so intimate with me when you don’t even know me? My brother… he killed your families.”
Esmerelda shakes her head sharply. “Not killed. Spelled. There’s still a chance. And yes, we’ll help you. Because it’s right. Just take only what you need.”
Her voice trembles. “You trust me? After everything?”
I reach across the table, take her hand, hold it steady. “We’re sorry you were dragged into this. But we’re in this together now.” I don’t know what else to say.
Serafina steps forward, rolling up her sleeve. “Start with me. I’m the vessel—my blood should give you strength.”
One by one, we let her feed. Careful. Controlled. Each time she pulls away, faint color creeps back into her cheeks, though shame still shadows her eyes.
When it’s Belvedere’s turn, he rolls his sleeve with a theatrical sigh. “Careful, love,” he drawls, grin wicked. “Once you’ve had a taste of me, you might not want anyone else.”
Leonard groans.
Minerva mutters something about gagging.
Even I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Victoria hesitates, hunger warring with suspicion, but Belvedere just waggles his eyebrows. “Go on. I promise I’m delicious. Five-star vintage, straight from the vein.”
She sinks her fangs into his wrist and drinks longer than she should. Belvedere hisses, goes glassy-eyed, swaying when she finally releases him.
“Damn,” he mutters weakly, his grin crooked. “Guess I should’ve charged you for that.”
No one says a word, but we all know she drank extra just to shut him up.
Belvedere rests his giant head on his arms. “I go night night.”
“Probably a good idea” Esmerelda says.
“While he’s napping, I’ll head to the store to get provisions.”
“Grab some acetaminophen, I think Belvedere might wake with a headache,” I say.
Later, when Leonard’s haul is spread across the table, the room almost feels normal again.
Steam rises from the pots on the stove that thankfully works.
The hearty stew I’m preparing is just what we all need to take the edge off our exhaustion.
Even Victoria looks steadier, and her voice stronger when she leans back in her seat.
Her eyes are no longer haunted. Instead, they blaze with resolve. “Well,” she says, scanning the table. “Is it time to kill my brother?”
The room stills. I lean back, arms folded, and assess everyone around the table.
Belvedere claps his hands together, grin feral. “I was hoping you’d say that. Maximillian’s caught us in his snares twice now. But this time?” His smile sharpens to a blade. “This time, he falls into ours.”
Esmerelda tilts her chin, a cold smile spreading across her lips. “I’ve been waiting for this.”
Minerva cracks her knuckles, grin sharp and wolfish. “Finally. Something fun.”
Leonard doesn’t smile. He only nods, jaw tight, eyes thin slits on his face.
I nod. “About time.”
For the first time since this nightmare began, the air no longer hums with fear but with shared resolve.
Maximillian turned this into cat-and-mouse.
But the hunt isn’t his anymore.
It’s ours.