Chapter Forty-One
Each breath came small and wheezing. Verity tried to stay still but the ache in her ribs wouldn’t ease.
Her hands were tied, one to each arm of the wooden chair.
It was uncomfortable, padded once, but long since flattened.
The only light spilled in from street lamps through tall windows, illuminating the storage room and Chloe’s emotionless face.
The sounds were muffled through the walls.
For a moment she thought she heard Theo’s voice, but maybe she’d imagined it.
Maybe it was the pain, or the knock to her head when she’d fought her captor and he’d shoved her into a door frame.
Her mind was playing tricks on her. Maybe people weren’t laughing outside. Maybe the choir hadn’t started.
No. The choir was singing and Verity almost smiled. How many years had they practised at that pub without ever being asked to perform? She’d invited them. Even locked away, hurting and hidden, she was glad she could hear them.
The only other sound in the room was the soft hiss of fabric, Chloe running the curtain between her fingers, over and over, staring out the window. Her face was blank, a girl who had taught herself, a long time ago, how to stop looking afraid. She wouldn’t meet Verity’s eyes.
“Are you okay?” Verity asked. “Did he hurt you?”
Chloe didn’t move.
“If Vivienne hurt you...”
“Shut up,” Chloe said. “Just don’t.”
Verity tried again, her voice coming out broken as she fought to keep her breaths small. “It’s okay. I understand.”
Chloe’s head snapped toward her, eyes bloodshot. “I don’t need you to understand.”
“You’re a victim, just as much as me. We can…”
“Stop it.”
A long silence stretched between them, neither of them looking away.
“I know what’s happening in Cliffhaven,” Verity said. “I know people are being attacked in the streets. They need someone to help them. Running away from it isn’t going to fix anything.”
“I said stop,” Chloe said. “I’m not helping you.”
“Where’s Mabel?” Verity asked.
Chloe flinched at the name. “I don’t know.
Vivienne said if anything goes wrong tonight, she’ll take my sister back to Cliffhaven and won’t let me go with her.
” Her voice cracked on the last words, and something in Verity’s chest broke with it.
Chloe’s biggest fear wasn’t what they’d do to her, it was being kept from protecting her sister.
“We can stop that from happening.”
“No, you can’t.” Chloe looked down at her hands, twisting the curtain.
“What about everyone else in Cliffhaven?” Verity asked. “Do you have other family there? Friends?”
Nothing.
“How old are you?” Verity pressed. “I dread to think what’s happening to the people you went to school with.”
Chloe shook her head, tears catching the light. “You can’t fix it,” she said.
“Of course we can. There’s a Rose here, an actual Rose. She’s come to talk to us, to Theo. When we tell her everything...”
“Like a Rose is going to care.”
“Maybe she doesn’t care about the people,” Verity admitted. “But she cares about her reputation, and this makes her look terrible.”
“Pretty weak argument.”
“Please. You know how vain these vampires are. Theo’s brother knows her, knows her well. He thinks we’ve got a real shot at this.”
Chloe bit her lip, eyes lifting to meet Verity’s.
“I know she’s your sister,” Verity went on. “But there are so many more people in Cliffhaven. So many more sisters and daughters and sons who don’t have anybody fighting for them. We have to try, this could be our only chance.”
Chloe’s face crumbled. A small sob on her lips. Verity recognised the look, the same grief and helplessness on Georgie’s father’s face outside the Exchange. A man asking strangers if they’d seen his daughter, still missing, another name added to the list of lives Vivienne’s freedom had cost.
“Please,” Verity said. “Don’t let this happen to another family. There’s still time for Mabel. But how many more are we going to lose if we don’t do something?”
Chloe’s lip trembled. “You have to help me find her,” she said.
Verity nodded, the small movement enough to make her wince. “Help me get out of here first. Please.”
Chloe crossed to her, looking down at the bindings. “Have you got a knife?”
Verity shook her head. Before she could say anything else, Chloe wedged her foot against one arm of the chair, gripped the other, and kicked. Once. Twice. On the third strike the wood splintered. The chair gave way beneath her and Verity hit the floor with a cry, blinded by pain.
She laid there a moment, gasping. Her head turned, and she saw the broken chair, a padded back, the crest of Ashhaven embroidered into it.
She knew that pattern. The same chair she’d sat in on her very first day, about to meet Theo.
Uncomfortable. Impatient. Nervous to meet the vampire she had been assigned to feed.
It felt like yesterday. It also felt like a lifetime ago.
She remembered the nerves, the racing heart, Stella’s desk buried under sticky notes and the newspaper she’d picked up while she waited.
A headline about Cliffhaven, one year into quarantine.
How far she’d come. Or maybe how far she’d returned, back to the woman she’d been before she lost everything, before she learned to keep her mouth shut and do as she was told.
Theo would laugh at that. No, Verity had never done as she was told. Not now, not ever. He didn’t ask her to, only that she let him in on her plans. She’d been taught not to question a vampire, then she’d met one that welcomed it. Who spoke to her as an equal. Who loved his city and loved her.
“Help me up,” she wheezed.
Chloe pulled her to her feet, tears streaking her pretty face though Verity refused to believe they were for her.
“We’re in City Hall,” Verity murmured.
Chloe nodded.
“Petra’s at the front,” Verity said. “Do you know the way?”
“We came in through the back. I’m not sure.”
Verity cracked the door open and looked out.
“It’s fine. I know the way.” When she’d first started donating, every corridor looked the same, but months of visits had carved the layout into her mind.
The corridor was one she had walked past a hundred times on the way to Theo’s office.
The thick carpet swallowed their footsteps as Chloe held her arm, supporting her weight, eyes flicking to each door they passed as Verity kept her breathing quiet through the throb in her ribs.
They reached the top of the stairs. Below, the entrance hall stood empty. Eerily empty.
Chloe helped her to the bannister. Verity turned to her.
“Go to the Golden Fleece. The guy I was with, Adam,” she said. “Tell him to call Sienna. She’ll be with Abe.” At least she hoped so.
Chloe’s eyes dropped to Verity’s ribs in question. The hand she held over them.
“Just go,” Verity insisted. “Tell him. If Abe asks for Mabel, Vivienne will hand her over. Trust him.”
Chloe nodded and darted down the stairs. The moment she hit the marble floor she let out a sharp squeak, eyes flying up to meet Verity’s for half a second before she bolted in the opposite direction, footsteps echoing.
The pain in her side stopped Verity from moving, freezing her in place as more footsteps approached, running towards the entrance hall. Perhaps if she stayed silent, she wouldn’t be noticed. However, she had no such luck as a man sprinted into view, paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked up.
There was no running. All Verity had were her words, but even they abandoned her as she fought back the pain with every wheezing breath. Chloe’s footsteps faded somewhere below, and Verity was almost relieved as Vivienne’s donor kept staring up at her.
Until he reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun.
She’d never seen a gun in real life. Never had one pointed at her.
Her jaw set even as she trembled. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing her beg. What was the point?
His thumb drew back the hammer.
At least she’d tried. At least she’d done what she could. At least she had loved, had been loved, and Theo would fight. He’d fight for Ashhaven, for Cliffhaven, for all of Havenshire.
He’d fight for her.
The thought gave her peace.
A shape in a suit slammed into her attacker from the side, too fast to see, knocking him flat and driving a fist into his face hard enough that Verity heard the crack from one floor up. She let out a small, broken sound as Theo looked up at her, and the world narrowed to nothing but him.
He grabbed the gun off the floor, tucked it into his jacket, and was up the stairs in seconds, dropping to his knees in front of her, hands hovering over the one she pressed to her ribs, not quite daring to touch.
Blood coated his knuckles and a cut marred on his cheek, too small to have caused the blood that splattered his once perfect white shirt.
“I’m fine,” she said, voice breaking. “I’ll be fine.”
Theo growled, shaking his head, cupping her face in his hands. She could see the apology already forming, something ridiculous, something that would put the blame squarely on him.
“Petra,” she gasped, before he could say it. “We need to get to Petra. Now.”
He nodded, laying a feather soft kiss to her temple before wrapping an arm around her. Together they made their way down the stairs, ready to find the Rose.