Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“Because you need to understand what you are.” Dmitri places his hand on my shoulder, the gesture almost comforting despite the horror of his words. “Your vampire self knows. Accepts. Embraces its true nature. It’s only your human consciousness that resists, that clings to outdated morality and weakness.”
He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Your vampire self knows me as father. Takes comfort in that knowledge. Obeys without question or hesitation. Not like Marco.”
Marco? I think. He can’t mean Marco Russo. I know he’s dead. I’d almost be happy if he wasn’t.
“Doesn’t it feel good to have a father?” he adds.
The restraints suddenly feel too tight, the room too small. I struggle to breathe as the full weight of Dmitri’s revelations crashes down on me. I am Dmitri’s son. I helped murder Elizabeth Short.
I’m the monster in this story, not its hero.
And Lena…sweet god, Lena. How could she ever look at me again if she knew the truth? How could she ever touch me, trust me, love me after what I’ve done?
What I am.
“She’ll never forgive me,” I whisper, not realizing I've spoken aloud until Dmitri responds.
“The Reid woman?” He waves a dismissive hand. “She doesn’t need to. Soon she’ll be the final sacrifice, the key that opens the gateway to Skarde. Her forgiveness or lack thereof will be irrelevant.”
Something shifts inside me at his casual dismissal of Lena’s life. A rage different from what I’ve felt before—not the mindless fury of my vampire side emerging, but something colder, more focused.
A clarity born of absolute certainty.
I may be Dmitri’s son by blood, but I am not him. I am not defined by my heritage, by the monster lurking in my veins. I am defined by my choices, and I choose to protect Lena. To stop the Ivanovs. To be worthy of the trust she’s placed in me, even if she never knows the full truth of what I’ve done.
But to do that, I need to escape. And to escape, I need to convince Dmitri that he’s won. That my vampire side has taken control.
I close my eyes, focusing on the rage simmering beneath my skin. I think of Elizabeth Short, of what I did to her under Dmitri’s control. Of Catherine, murdered to further his plans. Of Lena, marked for death to satisfy his mad ambition.
The change comes more easily than ever before—not a violent seizure of control, but a gradual integration. I can feel my fangs extending, my senses sharpening, power flooding through my limbs. But this time, I remain aware. In control. The line between my human consciousness and vampire nature blurring until they are no longer separate entities but aspects of a single, unified self.
When I open my eyes, I know they’ve changed—pupils expanded, irises glowing with unnatural red light. I let a growl build in my throat, let my lips pull back to reveal extended fangs.
Dmitri steps closer, triumph evident in his expression. “There you are,” he says softly. “My son. My true son.”
I snarl in response, straining against the restraints with renewed vigor. The metal creaks but doesn’t give.
“Easy now,” Dmitri soothes, reaching for the straps that bind my wrists. “I’ll release you, but first you must promise to obey. To be the son I know you can be.”
I force myself to nod, to appear compliant while keeping the rage burning just beneath the surface. Somehow I’m able to thread both parts of me and remain in control. Dmitri unfastens the restraint on my right wrist, then my left, then moves to the ankle straps.
As the final restraint falls away, I remain motionless on the gurney, watching Dmitri through narrowed eyes. Waiting for the moment to strike.
But Dmitri is cautious, stepping back as soon as I’m free. “Stand,” he commands.
I obey, rising from the gurney with fluid grace that belies the tension coiled within me. My muscles ache to attack, to tear him apart for what he’s done, but I hold back. Not yet. Not until I’m sure I can overpower him.
Dmitri observes me carefully, searching for any sign of deception. Finding none, he smiles coldly.
“Good,” he says. “Now, I have a task for you. A simple one, to prove your loyalty.”
I remain silent.
“Bring me Lena Reid,” he says, his voice taking on a hypnotic cadence. “Find her. Capture her. Bring her to me unharmed…or at least alive. Unharmed is probably asking for too much.” He steps closer, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Be a good son and bring me Lena Reid.”
Something shifts in my consciousness at his words, a compulsion that wasn’t there before. A pull toward obedience that threatens to override my own will. I fight against it, struggling to maintain control as darkness clouds the edges of my vision.
Be a good son and bring me Lena Reid.
The phrase bounces in my head, wearing down my resolve, and the patient look in his eyes tells me there’s no escape. That he knew I was faking it.