We were weak, and he was a step ahead.
“This is Lincoln.” Dracula’s head tilts to the one with the steady eyes who’s been tracking every twitch and breath. “And Andrei,” he adds with a glance toward the knife-in-hand one.
Three beings with superior strength and skills to us. Three pairs of eyes deciding if we’re worth keeping alive.
I should feel more fear in their presence, but there’s a strange sense of peace in knowing they’re vampires. Before Briar, my reality with vampires on was based on the one who killed our mother and mocked me as a child. Now, I recognize there’s a part of me that changed without realizing it, a part that can now acknowledge it isn’t the type of blood or magic running in one’s veins that decides their heart.
I’ve seen humans with more monstrous intentions and a lust for spilling blood who fall more in line with my initial thoughts on vampires.
It’s a wake up call, realizing the world around you isn’t black and white.
“You are prisoners pending trial,” Dracula says evenly, folding his hands together on the table. “The only reason you aren't dead yet is because of our wife and daughter, neither of which are here to protect you now. As our process requires, we will hear one plea of your defense before confining you to await trial. Speak carefully.”
The reminder of Briar hits hard, yanking that last image of her back into my head with her running from all of us with tears streaking her face. My teeth grind with the sudden urge to spit the questions at them:And why the fuck didn’t any of you goafter her? Why did you let her break apart alone in favor of interrogating us first?
I choke it down, just barely. Dante’s jaw ticks out of the corner of my eye, and I force my knees to still under the table and not show my agitation and restlessness.
I need to keep my mouth shut, weighing the timing of an outburst, but the fire already claws at my ribs and crawls up my throat, needing an outlet.
If I can’t throw my shock at their mistreatment of their daughter at them, I’ll throw it where it truly belongs: at Terrance.
None of us would be in these positions if it weren’t for him.
I lean forward just enough to meet Dracula’s stare head-on.
“You want your queen back and the hunter empire in ashes?” The words scrape out roughly. “Then use the weapons you have in your possession that know how to do that. Us. We know the systems, the routes, and the weapons you are up against.”
The words are bitter on my tongue, but the satisfaction of spitting them out and daring these three to consider the proposition soothes the rage within.
Andrei lets out a low scoff, the sound more annoyance than amusement. Dracula’s lip curls just enough to show a hint of fangs.
“And why,” he asks, voice steady but heavy with disdain, “should we believe you’d want to help us at all? How do we know this isn’t a trap to gather more of our kind in one place so they can be slaughtered by yours?”
Dante shifts before I can open my mouth again, his gaze fixed squarely on Dracula as I watch him.
His voice comes out even and strong, stripped of all emotions, leaving just the truth of the matter. “The first time I saw my father torture a magical being, I ran. My father had me dragged back. Broke me for it and left me on death’s doorstep toremember my place in this world. Since then, I’ve taken orders and stayed alive. That’s not loyalty, it’s simply survival. I am not his and I would give youanythingyou need to ruin him. If not for my own vengeance, but to try and atone for what I’ve had to stand by and witness.”
When he’s done speaking, he stands swiftly, pushing his chair back with a screech on the stone floor. Andrei’s hand tightens on his weapon, but they allow Dante to pull his shirt over his head in one sharp motion and turn.
The red and black ink across his back catches the light, showing off a massive red snake coiled from shoulder to hip, winding over the raised ruin of scar tissue. The marks are still there, pale ridges cut deep into skin that no tattoo could erase.
It hits hard, seeing the proof carved into his skin. It’s harder to stomach than the admission in his words alone. My stomach knots, fury twisting in my chest. The kind that burns hotter every time my uncle’s face crosses my mind.
Terrance did that to his own son.
My next breath is ragged as my chest tightens. Every breath I take without cutting him down feels like another debt piling on my back.
Dante shifts his shirt back into place and sits back down. The room stays silent, the three vampires across the table unreadable.
They wanted proof of why we aren’t loyal to Terrance, and Dante just gave it to them.
Callum clears his throat, and when he speaks it’s softer than Dante’s tone, but equally measured and composed.
“As for my brother and me, our uncle locked our inheritance and blocked every application we made to colleges, just to keep us under his thumb. He told us if we worked for him one year, he’d release it all. He’d give us what our parents left us and stop interfering with our lives.”
His gaze falls to the table, shame thick in his voice as he continues. “We thought we could get in and get out, and that it was a bargain worth making. But we didn’t know what we were agreeing to until it was too late. That’s on us, and complicit is still complicit.”
His voice doesn’t shake, but I know him well enough to hear what’s buried under it.
