Dante claims the nook next to the window after drawing the curtains back to reveal the courtyard below. “We gave themenough to make a difference,” he mutters, steady in a way I almost envy. “Even if they don’t want to hear us out anymore. We helped set vengeance in motion.”
I think his words are meant to give us reassurance, but it implodes any semblance of satisfaction I felt leaving that meeting.
That outcome hadn’t even crossed my mind until Dante uttered it.
He’s right…we gave them everything we possibly could, and worry claws up my throat now at the thought of being iced out of any future plans. I naively thought once we proved our value to them with our information, that there was no way they’d lock us away and stop us from being involved in their plan to attack.
Suddenly my skin feels too tight and itchy as restlessness climbs higher with every breath I draw.
What the fuck can I do now?
Terrance is still breathing.
Their queen is still caged.
And Briar is somewhere in this damn castle, breaking apart, and I’m standing here, useless.
“I’m going to my room to shower,” I mutter, quickly stalking out of the room.
Neither of them look twice before the door shuts behind me with a hollow thud. I push open the closest door to one of the rooms provided for us and don’t even stop to take it in. My feet echo against the stone floor as I rush into the bathroom, pleased to see it has a functioning set-up similar to our world, and quickly turn the knobs to let the shower spill with hot water.
After stripping off the clothes that hold the grime of too many memories, I make quick work of scrubbing off any remnants in my hair and on my skin. My hand pauses in the middle of my chest, where I felt the bullet rip through me.
Not even a scar remains, Briar’s blood healing me so thoroughly that no one would ever believe what happened if I told them. I wait for the hot water to chase away my restlessness and allow my exhaustion to overcome it, but it never does.
My thoughts turn to Briar and I let out a growl before slapping my hand against the tiled wall.
“She isn’t yours to worry about,” I whisper as I take a deep, shuddering breath.
Yet why can’t my mind or body accept that? Every part of me rebels at the thought, and before I can think better of it, I’m out of the shower and drying off. I dig through the wardrobe that has various clothes for both men and women until I find a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt that are my size, thankful that I don’t have toaskthe vampires for anything.
They’ve already done enough in housing us here, away from Terrance.
As soon as I’m dressed, I pull my door open, needing to pace a distance that extends far past my four walls. I’ll drive myself insane here.
I wait a beat to see if anyone will appear, but nothing happens.
Feeling emboldened by that, I turn down the corridor, my boots striking the stone heavily with each step.
Better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?
I continue to scan as I wander the wing, waiting for the inevitable shape of a vampire guard or staff member to step out of the dark, but no one does.
My brow pinches at the lack of security on us.
The situation rolls through my mind, and I’d bet my life that those three vampires would never leave three hunters unchained in their home if they had their heads screwed on straight. Yet here I am, walking their halls, and not a single set of eyes is on me.
Realization settles into me. They’re not careless…they’re rattled to the depths of their beings. Their wife is in enemy hands and their daughter was dragged back to them broken. All the discipline that should steady their decisions has slipped under the weight of it all. They’re not thinking with the same clarity they should be because they’re swarmed with a panic they refused to show us in that room.
For a heartbeat I feel an echo of that helplessness of knowing someone is out there suffering while you can do nothing. The sensation catches me off guard as I think of Briar, enough that my steps falter.
My head shakes in an attempt to clear the memories and I force my feet to keep moving. If I stop keeping myself busy, I’ll see the way she looked when she realized her mother wasn’t coming through the portal. It’s the same broken expression I saw on Callum’s face when he realized our mother was truly dead.
A muffled scream tears down the corridor, loud enough to make my entire body go on alert. A second later comes a crash of something shattering before silence follows.
I know that sound. Rage under the weight of immense grief, seeping through the cracks.
The echo of another scream drags me down the corridor, each crash of an object sharper than the last until I stand in front of the room the sounds comes from. The faintest trace of lavender clings to the air here and it reminds me of the way Briar smelled that night she pushed between Callum and me on campus.
