Page 28 of No One’s Daughter

​What kind of game was this? How the fuck had he gathered so much information about me? Who was he?

​“The part that has me stumped, Ailsa—I’m just going to go ahead and use that name, even though I know it’s not your real name—,” he said, his tone dropping. “Is that before two days ago, you had somehow managed to avoid detection, right here in my city, under my nose.”

​Shit.

​He knew practically everything about me.

He slowly rose to his feet, now towering above me. His movements had me backing up on instinct. “Look,” I said slowly, hands raised. “Everything you’ve said is true, and I don’t know why you think there’s more to it. Why not just let me go and we can pretend this never happened.”

​The corner of his lips arched ever so slightly, pulling my attention to the snake bite piercings he had. “We’re just getting started, and I will get the truth from you. So, I’ll ask again, and I suggest you answer, because next time I won’t use words to get an answer. Who are you?”

​I swallowed hard. Regardless of if this idiot was just plain stupid or not, he was quite clearly stronger than me and he had me cornered.

​“My. Name. Is. Ailsa,” I said, taking another step backward causing my back to collide with the stone wall of the back of the cell. What the hell did he want me to say?

​“Wrong answer.” He prowled toward me and I’d never felt so much like damn prey, the panic in me surging to the surface causing me to show my vampiric nature.

​I swallowed hard, realising my mistake.

​“There she is,” he grinned, cracking his knuckles.

​“I don’t know what you want from me,” I hissed defensively. Bracing myself.

​His hand wrapped around my throat as he pushed me to my knees. “Tell me what I want to know and this will all be over before you have time to cry about it.”

​“You already know everything about me,” I growled as I fought against his hold, my fight or flight taking over. My pulse was sky rocketing and my heart thrummed in my ears, but I regained control, my fangs retreating. And I looked him squarely in the eyes. “I’m not whoever you think I am.”

​“So you didn’t straight up murder poor old Timothy outside of his own bookstore,” he asked, confirming my suspicion that he was part of the police—or whatever the fuck they fancied calling themselves.

​“That wasn’t me,” I said. Because it wasn’t, at least it wasn’t a part of me I recognised and I sure as shit didn’t do it deliberately. I couldn’t even remember what had really happened that night. I hadn't meant to kill him, and if I could take it back I would. But I didn’t see the point of trying to explain that to him. He seemed to have his mind made up. Plus, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d hit his mark and bothered me.

​“And last night?” He asked. “When you ripped into that man’s neck? He’s alive by the way, thinks he got into a fight and someone shanked him with a broken bottle. Not that you seem to care… and that’s the problem you see. Supernaturals can’t just go around killing humans so carelessly."

​Interesting that, so it wasn’t the killing itself that was the problem. It was carelessness. Though I had to admit, I was glad to hear the man was alive. He’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Self-preservation,” I said, matter-of-factly. “I needed to distract you. I’d say that worked.”

​He tilted his head slightly, looking down at me, his gaze burning through me as he considered me.

​“Who made you?” He asked, letting go of my neck, changing the subject and I could have sworn there was genuine curiosity behind the question.

​“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. Because I didn’t.

​What did he mean by made? Like made me a vampire? Was I made? I suppose I had to be, but I really had no clue about that…

​He chuckled darkly. “I see.”

​Then he banged the metal bars of the cell three times. To which another presence appeared outside the cell. A woman.

She moved with a silent fluidity that terrified me a little. Another vampire no doubt. She was taller than me, not by much, but her build was leaner and much stronger than mine—I was sure. Long copper hair framed her face in a way that made me feel inadequate. She was stunning, and I found myself speechless as her eyes moved over me, quickly and efficiently taking everything in without lingering unnecessarily.

​“Get your answers yet?” She asked, her tone bored.

​“Not quite, but I have an inkling about something. Mind opening the blinds for me, Marlette,” he asked of her—Marlette—but his gaze remained pinned on me, as though searching for something.

​“Sure,” Marlette drawled, slowly walking to the little window high up on the wall facing us. “Less clean up that way.”

​What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

​“Interesting. Most piss themselves, at the threat of that,” the guy drawled. “Yet she’s barely responding. Her heart rate hasn’t even increased.”