Chapter Fourteen #2
"Look, Sage." His voice gentles. "I don't understand. I do feel betrayed, same as the rest. But that doesn't mean I approve of what Darius is doing now." A faint smile ghosts across his lips. "Not that the boss needs my approval."
"All right." I cross my arms, chin lifting. "So here we are. Opposite sides of the barrier. I'm guessing you came for more than small talk, or do we just stand here until someone blinks?"
Johnny kneels carefully, and sets an envelope down at the ward line. "I came to deliver this. I volunteered because I wanted to talk to you."
A humorless smile tugs at my mouth. "And you knew I wouldn't shoot you on sight."
"I didn't know," he admits. "But I hoped." He hesitates. "You should hear him out, though. Darius. I know you're angry we kept things from you, but you have to understand—you don't know the full context."
"Yeah, well, maybe you don't know everything either," My voice tightens. "Or maybe you choose not to see it. I've been learning a lot lately—"
The slam of a car door cuts me off.
Darlene stalks toward us, a scowl carved across her face. "How long does it take to drop off an envelope, Johnny?"
"Just being civil. Catching up with Sage," Johnny replies, voice even and patient.
"She lost the right to civility the second she stabbed us in the back," Darlene spits, her glare drilling into me.
"You betrayed me first," I shoot back. "You kept the truth from me—"
"I saved your life first," she snaps.
I nod once, curt. "First time, yes. But when I ran, that second attack was organized."
Darlene's jaw hardens. "Darius goes to extremes when he protects people he cares about.
Even if he has to protect them from their own stupidity.
You ran. That's all you ever do, isn't it?
Run. And you would've ended up some vampire's meal sooner or later.
He prevented that. He gave you a place with us.
Training. Trust. And this is how you repay us? " Her voice rises, sharp enough to cut.
The front door creaks open. Then closes.
Kayden steps out, menace wrapped in a lazy posture. He leans against the wall, pretending at casual, but every muscle is coiled. A warning they'd be suicidal to miss.
The silence is brittle. I break it before it snaps.
"Darlene, I get it." I force my tone steady.
"There were lies and mistakes on both sides.
I can own my part." I swallow the lump in my throat.
"But listen to me. I've learned more about vampires since then.
Not all of them are blood-crazed killers with nothing human left.
Asher is not like the others. He built a program that helps vampires manage their thirst. Donna Bright is proof of it.
She's living a normal life because of him. "
Johnny's brows lift, curiosity flickering even if doubt stays close.
Darlene lets out a scoff. "Right. Give me a break."
"Then explain this." I step closer to the barrier. "How am I still alive? They know what I am. They've had my blood. And yet here I stand."
Darlene crosses her arms, glare unrelenting. "So what? You're suggesting that instead of harvesting their blood to heal thousands of people, we start a rehab program? You're delusional, Sage."
"I get it. It sounds far-fetched with what we've seen.
" My voice is steady, though my chest is tight.
"But Donna has a theory about reading vampires through a Freudian lens.
She thinks their struggle comes from a broken link with the superego.
The id runs unchecked, all hunger and instinct.
But if a vampire, especially one recently turned, can be taught to rebuild that control, there's hope.
Instead of hunting them down, we could give them a chance. "
Johnny's gaze flicks between us, caught somewhere between interest and doubt.
Darlene shakes her head, steps closer, and reaches inside her jacket. I feel Kayden tense behind me, ready to move, but I lift a hand, stopping him.
What she pulls out isn't a weapon, but a slim, pocket-sized tablet.
"You're seriously saying," she says, her voice sharp as glass, "that instead of treating children with diabetes, we should give monsters like this a chance?" She tosses the tablet at the barrier's edge, steps back.
I crouch, carefully reaching through the hum of energy. No burn. My fingers close around the device.
The screen flickers awake. A standard file format.
Name: Cain Locke. Birth name: Matthias.
Born 1610, Pressburg, Habsburg Monarchy.
Turned 1634, during the Thirty Years' War at age 24.
I swipe further. A long catalog of atrocities sprawls across the screen. Murders, massacres, centuries of slaughter. And then—photos. Modern day. Corpses torn open, rooms painted in blood, bodies without heads.
My throat locks, stomach twists. I turn away, jaw clenching until it aches.
"So?" Darlene's voice drips venom. "You still want him in your little sanctuary? Or can you admit they're a rot on this world? Nature itself rejects them. One or two behaving doesn't buy out the thousands who don't."
She points at the tablet in my hands, eyes burning. "We were on his trail. Cain Locke. And then we had to drop it to chase your pretty self just to find that you're in bed with his kind."
She steps closer, almost pressing against the barrier, her voice shaking with rage.
"Every single person Cain killed since, every victim, every drop of blood, is on your hands, Sage."
My grip falters. I throw the tablet back, bile rising in my throat. I can't answer. The words don't come.
Darlene's laugh is low and bitter. "Come on, Johnny. We have work to do."
Johnny lingers, gives me a faint, almost apologetic smile. "See you."
I manage a nod. The images from the file burn behind my eyes. She's not wrong. Not entirely. And Kayden is no saint either. He has his own file and trail of bodies.
I glance at him now, framed in the doorway. Rigid, watching me with concern. Mine.
She's not wrong, but I'm not wrong either. Maybe that's the problem at the heart of all this.