Chapter 9
9
Amir
Middleton Estate in Salem, Massachusetts
T he Middleton Estate looms in front of us, its dark gray facade blending with the cloudy, wintry sky. The architecture speaks of history—sharp angles and towering chimneys, the kind of thing you’d see on postcards boasting “Historic Salem.”
The snow falls heavy, swirling like it’s trying to bury the world, but it doesn’t stick. It melts the moment it kisses the ground, leaving the gravel driveway wet and shining under the dim glow of the porch lights. I stand beside Andrew outside the iron gates, unspoken words lingering in the air between us.
The air smells wet and cold, but beneath that, I catch the scent of something else—perfume and sweat. The estate hums with life, though it isn’t lively. Laughter and moans ripple faintly through the air. A human man and two women. I don’t have to see them to know what’s going on in there.
Andrew keeps fidgeting next to me, his clean-cut blonde hair dusted with melting flakes of snow. His piercing green eyes flick to me impatiently. He’s always impatient.
“So, what’s the plan? Are we killing them tonight, or what?” His voice breaks the rhythmic crunch of snow underfoot.
“No,” I say, keeping my gaze on the estate. “Tonight’s not about killing. I’m collecting—just the nine men.” I glance at him briefly, his expression tight, waiting for more. “Though I’ll admit, I’m disappointed Hazel took care of DeMarcus already. He was the one I really wanted. I had plans for him.” Torturing him would have been... satisfying. But I suppose I’ll have to make do with the others.
Andrew exhales sharply, puffing a cloud of breath into the cold air. He doesn’t like waiting. Or planning. His gaze stays locked to me, clearly needing more direction.
“I want to gather them up first, have a little... chat about the consequences of messing with my family.” I grin slowly. “Then I’ll kill them. Oh, and this Mike guy? He’s invited too. I don’t like how he’s been messing around with Anora.”
Andrew rolls his eyes, scoffing. “That idiot’s harmless, Amir.”
I raise a brow at him, amused. The insolence. “How about King? Or better yet... Grandfather?” I tease, my grin widening.
His annoyance bubbles over immediately. “I’m not calling you either of those. How about that? And besides, you said yourself—you’re not King anymore. What’s with the whole ‘grandfather’ thing anyway?”
I reach out, my hand moving from behind my back to pat the top of his head lightly. He groans, but he doesn’t slap me away. He knows better. “When you’ve lived as many lifetimes as I have,” I say evenly, “watching families rise and fall, build and rebuild over generations, you start to... long for something you’ll never have.”
He pauses, his anger softening for just a moment. I flash my fangs with a grin. “I may be many things—a warlock, a shifter—but I’m also a vampire. You know what that means, don’t you?”
Andrew hesitates, his expression crumbling into something close to regret. I don’t need to prod him; the words spill out. “It means... you can’t have children.” He glances away, trying to mask the sadness creeping into his face. “The only way to build a family is by...” Again, he trails off.
I finish for him. “...By building a family of my own—a coven.” My voice is steady, calm. I grip his shoulder with one firm hand and squeeze lightly. “You don’t need to feel bad for me, Andrew. I’ve made my peace with it long ago.”
Something else lingers in his gaze. I can see it before he finally speaks again. “I’ve always wondered... after Kade saved me. She made me a vampire, but you knew she was a lesbian when you turned her. That didn’t stop you. You still called her your daughter. And now me—you call me your grandson, knowing I’m... well. You know.”
“Gay?” I chuckle at his awkward choice of words. “Andrew, humanity’s obsession with defining love has always baffled me. There have been same-sex bonds since the dawn of time. Why would I care whom you love? Love is rare enough in this cursed world. Your so-called ‘queerness’ changes nothing.”
He stares at me like I’ve said something profound. I shake my head, smirking. “When I turned Kade, what mattered was her loyalty to her people. She had a fire in her soul—a devotion to her coven that lasted even when times demanded otherwise. She was strong, resolute, and defiant. I admired her for that. Her being a lesbian? Irrelevant.” I pause, looking at him. “She makes me proud. And you? You have the spirit of a fighter too—just like her. It’s why I call you grandson.”
Andrew groans again, stepping away to break my hold on him, but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips. “Stop calling me that,” he mutters, half-hearted.
I grin. “May Fate grant you that same love—a man who’ll stand beside you as fiercely as Kade was destined to stand with hers.”
Andrew softens again, his defiance replaced with something almost vulnerable. “You really are everything Kade said about you,” he admits quietly.
The snow falls heavier now, creating a private moment between us as the world disappears behind its white veil. For a brief moment, I see the boy beneath the vampire - young, uncertain, seeking approval. It reminds me why I chose this path, why building this unusual family matters so much. In all my centuries, these connections are what make immortality bearable.
That earns a genuine smile from me. For all the lifetimes I’ve lived, hearing that still stirs something within me. I clasp my hands behind my back, glancing up at the estate. “Enough sentiment. Let’s start rounding up these men. I’d like to finish before sunrise.”
“You mean so you can go stalk Anora,” Andrew snaps. “Why you won’t just talk to her is beyond me. For all your power, you’re still a coward where she’s concerned.”
I grunt at his jab but don’t dignify it with an answer. One battle at a time. Tonight, the men who dared cross my family will learn what that mistake costs.
The cold presses against me, even through the heat of my blood. The snow keeps falling, heavy and relentless, melting the second it lands and leaving the path muddy. Its dark gray exterior is bathed in a sickly yellow glow from the lamps on either side of the gate.
The towering chimneys give it an air of importance it doesn’t deserve. A house like this reeks of old money, and with it, the inevitable rot hiding in every gilded crevice. The windows glow faintly. I can hear the muffled sound of laughter and moans drifting through the frigid air. My lip curls.
Behind me, Andrew lets out an annoyed sigh. He’s been pacing since we got here, kicking at the snow like a restless pup. “So? We doing this or not?”
I don’t even look at him. “Not yet,” I mutter. “Hazel already took care of DeMarcus, so tonight, I’m just collecting the other nine. One by one.”
Andrew scoffs. “Hazel handled DeMarcus for you? I’m sure that sits well.”
I ignore him and let my eyes trail over the building again. “I wanted him most,” I admit, voice flat. “Would’ve savored the opportunity to make him pay proper. But no matter—there’s plenty left to work with.” My golden eyes flick toward him briefly. “And I don’t like this Mike character hanging around Anora.”
Andrew snorts. “Mike? He’s harmless.”
I step forward, sliding a hand out from behind my back to wave it over the gates, golden flicks of energy spreading across the metal bars. As they creak open, I glance back at Andrew with a slow smile. “Harmless, huh? We’ll see.”
I step through first, the gravel crunching beneath me as Andrew falls in behind me with a sigh. He’s loyal, I’ll give him that, but pushy. Always pushy. I teleport to the front door without bothering to warn him. In a blur of speed, Andrew appears at my side by the time I’ve magicked the doors open.
Inside, the warmth slaps us in the face, but it’s already tainted. The foyer is spacious, the floors hardwood, polished to shine under the glow of an extravagant chandelier hanging high above. The staircase dominates the space, winding up to the second floor. The sound of the orgy is louder now—bed springs creaking, laughter, moans echoing faintly from above. My lip twitches in disgust.
I don’t waste time. I use my magic to teleport straight into the bedroom above.
The smell of sweat and lust slams into me first. The room is massive, with a high ceiling, a gaudy chandelier dangling above an oversized bed, and thick, luxurious drapes framing the windows. Connor Middleton lies sprawled on the bed, naked, with two women tangled over him, their laughter spilling into the room like rotten honey.
I step forward, my hands clasped tightly behind my back, and let a grin split my face. One of the women notices me first. Her head jerks up, her eyes widen, and a bloodcurdling scream tears from her mouth. The other woman flinches, then scrambles off Connor, grabbing at anything to cover herself. Not that it matters. They won’t be here long.
Andrew bursts into the room a second later, his vampire speed always impressive. Standing at my side, he glares at the scene, his lip curling. The women frantically gather their clothes, stumbling over each other as they bolt for the door. Andrew doesn’t so much as spare them a glance.
Connor sits up, panic flashing across his flushed face as he grabs a pillow to shield himself. His blonde hair is tousled, his green eyes wide with shock, and his bloated frame shakes with fear. It’s clear he’s used to getting what he wants—wealth can make even the weakest feel untouchable.
“What the fuck do you want?” Connor yells, reaching for the nightstand. Amateur. Probably looking for a weapon.
Andrew’s already on him. In a blink, his hand shoots out, grabs Connor’s wrist, and twists it down hard. The bone snaps audibly, and Connor’s scream rips through the room.
“You raped my niece,” I say calmly, stepping closer. There’s no need to raise my voice. My presence does that for me.
Connor gapes at me, his face twisted in agony as he cradles his broken wrist. “What the fuck are you talking about? I paid those bitches!”
The word sets my blood boiling. My grin sharpens. “Bitch?” I repeat softly. “Hazel is no bitch, Connor. But in a moment, you’ll feel like one.”
It doesn’t take long for the fear to settle in his eyes. Men like Connor don’t regret what they do—they regret being caught. And even that regret is hollow. I can see it on his face. He isn’t mourning what he’s done to Hazel or the other women he’s preyed on. He’s mourning the loss of his safety, his comfort.
“Hazel,” he mutters, almost like a plea.
Andrew growls low in his throat and grabs Connor by the throat, lifting him clean off the bed. Connor’s words die in a wet gurgle.
“Don’t even try to lie,” Andrew snaps, his voice colder than the snow outside. “We can smell her on you. Her innocence. What you stole from her.”
I step closer, my hands still behind my back, calm, measured. “Where are the others, Connor? I want names and locations. Eight more. Tell me everything.”
Connor struggles, his legs kicking helplessly. He doesn’t answer. Andrew tightens his grip on his throat, and Connor’s face starts to turn purple. Andrew flashes me a grin, his fangs sharp and gleaming. “Let me get it out of him, Amir,” he says, his tone almost playful. “I promise, he’ll talk.”
I grin back. “Only if you call me Grandfather.”
Andrew glares, irritation evident on his face. “Fine,” he spits. He turns back to Connor with a sadistic glint in his eye. “I’m going to enjoy this.” He briefly smirks at me again. “Grandfather.”
With that, I step back, watching as Andrew lets his nature take over. Connor screams as Andrew begins to work, his vampire claws slicing into soft flesh with methodical precision. Blood splatters across the expensive bedding, dripping onto the hardwood floor. I step further back to avoid the mess, content to let Andrew finish what I started.
The scent of fear fills the room, thick and heady, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. Connor’s terror is different from his victims’ - it’s the fear of a predator suddenly finding himself prey. My beasts stir inside me, savoring the justice of it. Each scream, each plea, is payment for what he took from Hazel.
Andrew lets him heal only to rip him apart again...
“Deliver him to the basement at Thirst Trap when you’re done,” I tell Andrew. “I have the information I need.”
Andrew nods, and I leave the room, the sounds of Connor’s screams fading as I make my way out of the estate. By the time I step outside into the icy night air, my mind’s already back on Anora. I miss her.
Darkness envelops me as I step outside. Anora would be sleeping now, perhaps dreaming those strange dreams that keep pulling her through time. My chest aches with the need to be near her, to watch over her sleep, but this mission comes first.
These men need to learn what happens when they harm what’s mine. Still, even as I plot their deaths, my thoughts drift back to her—to the way she whispers my name in her sleep, to the peace I feel just being near her. Soon, I tell myself. Soon I’ll stop hiding in the shadows.