CHAPTER 19 #2
An enigmatic smile forms on his lips, almost reaching his narrowing eyes. “How do you think we knew where to find you? Sure, the signal was abysmal underground, but there were times when it became clear enough to pinpoint your location. Who knew technology could be this useful?”
“You’d need the device receiving its signal for that. How did you get your hands on it?” The mere thought unsettles me, but I wouldn’t be surprised. “Did you kill them?”
“They were already dead.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“How unfortunate.”
He moves close enough to be within arm’s reach, the knife’s handle pointed directly at me. “It’s your choice. Remove it voluntarily, or I’ll do it for you. One option is considerably less painful.”
I weigh my options. The tracker is my only lifeline to Redmoore, to potential rescue, to escape from this horrid place.
Without it, I’m truly alone among enemies.
Part of me wants to fight back, to give him the worst of it, but I know too well what he’s capable of.
And I know all too well I’m famished, exhausted, and without a weapon.
There’s no winning against him, especially not right now.
Grudgingly, I roll up my sleeve, take the knife from his hands, and make a small incision over the tracker.
Blood wells up immediately, but I ignore it, pressing my fingers against the wound until the tiny metal chip emerges.
It’s more miniature than I remembered, barely the size of my pinky nail, pulsing a faint blue glow.
He takes it from my bloodied fingers, surveying it briefly before crushing it with no further regard.
The light dies with a tiny spark, the fragments scattering onto the floor.
Fighting back tears of despair, I press my sleeve against the wound to staunch the bleeding.
“You could’ve intervened before I was dragged underground, as you’ve done twice before now.
Why didn’t you? Why wait until the last minute?
To make some kind of point? To prove you are the bigger monster?
” My voice breaks into a bitter laugh. “Or were you just too scared to face Cain head-on?”
His expression remains a mask of indifference, as if my words are merely passing air currents.
“Strategy isn’t cowardice,” he says, turning to walk toward the fireplace and placing the knife on the mantel.
“Cain expected another interception, precisely because we have done it twice before. What he was not prepared for was your brother infiltrating his ranks or us tracking your signal. Sometimes the longer path is the only viable one.”
“People died.”
His fingers tap against the edge, his back still to me. “Yes, and?”
My chest tightens, rage spilling into accusation. “Does it help you sleep at night?” I let the silence hang, daring him to answer. “Knowing you let others suffer while you play your long game?”
“I sleep quite fine.” He turns back to face me. “The real question is whether their deaths served a purpose or were merely wasted.”
His callousness should shock me, but somehow it doesn’t.
“And what purpose did my suffering serve?” My jaw is clenched so hard it hurts.
“Nothing, it seems.” He steps closer, towering over me. “Perhaps a little more would finally teach you humility.”
It takes every ounce of my will to hold his stare, but I do—because it takes more to let him see me break. “Lessons learned from monsters aren’t worth remembering.”
He studies me for a long moment, as if weighing whether to coerce or crush. Then, the barest hint of amusement tugs at his mouth. “You don’t have to remember. Your body will.”
My hands clench at my sides, firelight flickering between us. I bite back the questions that would betray my fear, forcing something practical to the surface instead. “What’s your plan? Keep me here until you find a way to defeat Cain?”
He leans slightly, poised like a coiled spring—calm, but capable of striking at a moment’s notice. “You make it sound like a punishment, waiting in comfort while others bleed to keep you alive.”
“It is.” The words come flat, honest. “Because I never asked for it.”
He lets out a short, humorless scoff, his eyes sliding to the side.
“Go cry about it to your brother. He’s the reason you’re still breathing.
” He dips his head, not to meet me, but to remind me how far above me he stands.
His breath brushes my cheek, as though sharing a secret, but it’s clearly a threat: “Though, ask nicely, and I’ll hand you to Cain myself. ”
The words hit and I freeze, my spine locking as every muscle draws tight, refusing him the satisfaction of a flinch.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, stepping back at last, as if my stillness has confirmed everything he wanted to know.
He then strides toward the exit, flicking a hand in careless dismissal, making it clear I’m not worth any further argument.
Before I can say a word, the door has already closed behind him.
Outside, night presses against the windows, a reminder that dawn is still hours away.
I’m trapped in this mansion with creatures who might be reluctant allies, or executioners, my safety conditional on my usefulness to their cause.
In the best-case scenario, they’ll protect me from Cain. In the worst, they’ll ensure I can’t be used by him, by whatever means necessary.
And somewhere in between, I might just be leveraged and end up back where I was saved from.
The redhead walks in, her face emanating an unfamiliar softness, a quiet warmth that seems to seep into the cold edges of the room. There is no cruelty in her gaze, no hunger, no veiled threat. Just calm. And for a moment, that alone feels like mercy.
“You should rest,” she says. “We have prepared a room for you.”
I follow her out of the lounge, through shadowed corridors adorned with paintings of landscapes I don’t recognize and figures I never want to meet. When we reach the room, the woman gives me a quick tour.
“Bathroom’s through here,” she says, pointing to an ornate door in the corner. “Fresh clothes in the wardrobe. Food will be ready for you soon.”
I simply nod, unsure how to respond.
She treats me like a hotel guest, but we both know that’s just a role she’s playing. Beneath the surface, the stakes are far darker.
The door closes with a soft click, and I don’t miss the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock. So much for hospitality.
Alone at last, I explore the room. Everything from the canopied bed to the heavy drapes is rendered in shades of midnight and cerulean. A fire already burns in the grate of a carved fireplace beneath a gilt-framed mirror, its surface cloudy with age.
The intricately barred windows prevent any chance of escape.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, the events of the day crashing over me. I’m free from Cain, but not from danger. I’ve found my brother, but he’s a stranger wearing familiar eyes.
I’ve learned more about vampires in one day than in all the years I’ve spent hunting them, but the knowledge brings more questions than answers. Potions. Nobles. Clans. Siphoners. Where do I even start?
The bathroom calls to me, promising hot water and an opportunity to wash away the remnants of that hideous underground prison.
I place the pendant on the basin—unsure what to do with it—and strip off the guard’s uniform, letting it fall to the floor in a heap, before stepping under the shower’s steaming spray.
Only then, with water masking any sound I might make, do I allow myself a moment of weakness.
Silent tears mix with the shower’s flow as I scrub my skin raw, trying to erase the memory of Cain’s touch.
When I emerge, wrapped in a plush robe, I find a tray of food on the bedside table that wasn’t there before. Someone entered while I was showering, a reminder that privacy is an illusion here.
The meal is simple but nourishing: bread, cheese, cured meat, and a glass of what appears to be wine. I eat mechanically, my body demanding sustenance even as my mind races.
When I finish, exhaustion hits me like a punch.
The bed beckons, its soft mattress and cool sheets promising oblivion, however temporary.
I should stay awake, plan my next move, figure out a way to contact Redmoore or escape this new prison.
But my eyelids grow heavy, and the thought of sleep becomes irresistible.
I check the lock on the door one last time before sliding beneath the covers.
As consciousness slips away, one specific thought follows me into darkness: I’ve traded one captor for another, and I still don’t know which is worse.
This may seem better in every way possible, but I have learned to distrust beautiful visions, especially when they come from dangerous men.