Viktor’s entire body locked tight. He pushed calm through their bond - or tried to. He forced himself to think about safe things, like Ant sleeping in on a Sunday morning or playing fetch with Able in the park. Normal parts of his life with Ant that Viktor wasn’t about to lose all because of a vampire with sloppy feeding habits.
Ant’s fingers hovered an inch from the chair fabric. Viktor could see his chest rising and falling in the measured rhythm that matched the breathing exercises Robert had told him about.He’s preparing himself one last time.Then, without any warning, Ant touched the chair, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
Chapter Eleven
The fabric was soft under Ant’s fingertips. A simple cotton blend that Ant already knew was a burgundy color. The seat cushion was slightly worn at the edges where…
Ant’s vision hit him, and grabbed hold of him. It was the sounds that got to him first. Not the ordinary noises of people going about their day, or even any sounds pertaining to Finch. No, it was a deafening roar of overlapping voices, screams, laughter, and pleas that had soaked into the walls of the coven over the centuries. The ambient magic of the estate didn’t just amplify the vision - it grabbed hold of Ant’s consciousness andscatteredit across every traumatic death that had ever occurred within these walls.
His vision whited out, almost as though it warped, and then snapped back into focus.
Ronald Finch sat at the desk, pen in hand, reviewing a column of numbers on a bank statement. His lips moved as he tallied figures, completely absorbed in his work. The laptop sat closed beside him. Papers were spread across the desk in organized piles - evidence of shell corporations, falsified documents, and forged signatures.
The vision was sharper than usual. Ant always saw the events as though they were happening, but it was as if someone had taken his vision and polished it. Every detail stood out, from the way Ronald’s wedding ring caught the lamplight to the slight furrow between his brows as he concentrated.
Footsteps in the hallway.
Ronald’s head lifted. His hand stilled on the paper, the pen tip resting against a number.
Ant tried to catalog the details of the scene with his usual detachment. He’d learned from a very early age that he couldnot afford to be emotionally invested in the visions he was given. But the magical distortions around the estate pressed against his mind, creating an interference that made it difficult to maintain the observer’s distance his gift normally provided.
The door opened without a knock.
Ronald turned in his chair, surprise flickering across his face. “Lord Raven, I wasn’t expecting…”
Claudius stood in the doorway, tall and lean in formal evening wear that looked like it belonged in a different century. Two other vampires flanked him - Ant recognized them as faces he’d seen at dinner. Edmund and another whose name he hadn’t caught.
“Mr. Finch.” Claudius’s voice was pleasant, almost warm. “Burning the midnight oil, I see.”
“I was just double-checking some calculations before I turned in for the night.” Ronald’s tone was professional, as if he were speaking to a respected colleague, but Ant noted how his body language had shifted. His shoulders were tense, and his fingers curled slightly around the pen. The accountant’s instincts were screaming danger, even if his conscious mind hadn’t caught up yet. “I should have some preliminary findings for you by morning.”
“How thorough of you.” Claudius stepped into the room. The other two followed, closing the door behind them with a soft click that Ronald’s eyes tracked with growing alarm.
The attack was imminent. Ant could see, just in the casual way Claudius moved, and how behind him, the other vampires positioned themselves, blocking the exit. Ronald’s breathing sped up as the instinctual part of his brain recognized the trap his rational mind was still processing.
“Actually,” Ronald said, his voice tight, “I think I’ll call it a night, if it’s all right with you. It’s been a long day, and I…”
He stood, and Ant noticed he was still holding the pen. Ronald started to move toward the door...the door of the room Ant and Viktor were sharing.
Claudius was faster.
One moment, he was three feet away. The next, he stood directly in Ronald’s path, close enough that the accountant stumbled backward in surprise. The pen fell from his fingers, bounced once on the desk, then rolled to rest on the blotter.That’s not…Ant’s mind stuttered, immediately clocking the disconnect between the pen in the crime scene photographs and what he was seeing, but the vision hadn’t ended.
“I insist you stay.” Claudius’s voice remained pleasant. His hand came up, pale fingers catching Ronald’s chin. “We have so much to discuss.”
The vision wavered as the ambient magic surged, and Ant felt the edges of his consciousness fray. It was as if the magic in the walls knew what Ant would see next and wanted to show him more - every death, every scream, every moment of terror that had saturated the walls.
Focus.Ant dragged his attention back to Ronald Finch.Just this death. Just this moment.
Ronald tried to pull away, but his body locked mid-motion, freezing completely, his muscles rigid. Only his eyes moved, wide with dawning horror as he realized what was happening.
Claudius had used the vampiric trance, locking Ronald into place. Ant had read countless papers written by Doctor Pike about the thrall effect, but he’d never seen it in a vision. Ant did know that in every case where a person was undera vampire’s thrall, the victim remained conscious and aware, feeling everything, but utterly paralyzed.
“There we are.” Claudius tilted Ronald’s head to the side, exposing the throat. “Much better. Edmund, what do you think? Should I make this quick?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Edmund’s voice was lazy, amused. “He’s been poking around in your business for months. Seems like he deserves a proper send-off.”
“Fair point.”
