Page 15 of Blood Bond

“And if they kill you, where does that leave us?” I blurt out, then immediately regret my brashness. I bite my tongue, wishing I could retract my words, but Seth doesn't scold me.

“I will not risk anyone. We will get down to them and deal with it ourselves,” Seth insists.

“But she’s right,” Naneve says. “If you die …”

Seth ignores her. “We’ll take the stairs, not the lift. If it's working, they'll hear it. We’ll arm ourselves with blades and stand together. We can cut them down and push through. The door to the control room is less than six feet from the stair door. We can make it. Once inside, they can't reach us. We’ll deal with them, then figure out the rest.”

He approaches me, and for a moment, I see the man, not the vampire. Something inside me wants to reassure him, to tell him we'll find a way. It's almost as if I've said these words to him before, the echoes ringing in my mind.

But this is not the moment for such assurances.

I wish I could reach out and touch his face, but it's not the face of the vampire I see. Instead, we're somewhere else entirely, in a cabin with flickering firelight casting shadows around us. I wish he’d stop projecting these images into my mind. I don’t understand their purpose, but as I come back to reality, I see him watching me, his expression unreadable.

"I don't want to stay here," Tasha interrupts, her voice cutting through the tense atmosphere. She tries to rise, her hand bracing against the seat. Her demeanour is less shaken than before, but far from composed. "Please ... don't leave us here."

Seth doesn't approach her. He shakes his head. “It’s safer for you to remain here. There’s less risk if you and Payton are secured in this place.”

“What if they get up here?” Tasha's voice trembles.

“They won’t. We’re too high up, and they have to navigate the stairs. It'll take them time, and by then?—”

“They’ll be nothing but ashes,” Killian finishes for him.

Seth’s gaze returns to me. “Lock the door when we’re gone. Under no circumstances should you open it, and don’t even think about leaving this room.” The last part is a clear reference to my previous wandering, an inexplicable decision that landed us here.

“Okay,” is all I manage to say.

Seth’s gaze lingers for a moment, and there it is again, that unsteadiness in him. Something feels off, a subtle imbalance, but I can’t tell if it's real or just my own unease reflecting back. He staggers slightly, then steadies himself, holding the door frame a moment too long before stepping out.

I close my eyes, silently pleading for their safe return.

The door shuts behind them, leaving Tasha, Layla, and me in the room. Layla lies still where Seth left her, but I know she isn’t dead. I can sense it, feel the alteration in her very essence. I press my palm against the glass, watching her, but she remains motionless.

“This is your fault, you know?” Tasha's words slice through the silence, bitter and resentful. “If you hadn’t come here, if Seth hadn’t bought you …”

I stay silent, her words not frightening me. I've endured worse during my time with Craven. Sometimes, the women were more terrifying than the vampires, especially when I was just starting out in that world. It was a brutal hierarchy, and as I climbed through the ranks, more due to age than effort, I never became one to inflict pain on those newer and younger. The world is terrifying enough without making it worse.

Instead of responding, I move away from the glass box and approach the balcony to look outside more deliberately. I need to see if Killian and Seth are okay.

Below, at least three dozen of the thirsty are piling up, creating a grotesque spectacle. It's chaotic, devoid of any order, like a bizarre, frenzied congregation. It reminds me of the concerts my mother used to attend, with crowds cheering in theatres. But this is different, an unnerving display of desperation as they all head in the same direction.

Outside,beyond the expensive panes of glass, the darkness moves like liquid. I catch glimpses of blinking lights from other buildings, the city beyond the doors Seth drove me through. Businesses, the outside world. It’s clear why the thirsty have congregated here; this place might offer food without the threat of immediate death.

One of them, a man who might have been old in his former life, turns towards me. Grey hair adorns his head, but a bald patch is prominent at the centre. His face is battered, bloodied. He doesn't strike me as a longtime thirsty, not with the determination etched into his features. His lifeless eyes betray his true nature, as do his hands clawing at the air.

He raises a hand towards me, his mouth opening. I'm certain he's trying to speak, but his words are lost to the distance, his mouth moving silently.

Beside him, a younger man, perhaps of Asian descent, also turns to gaze at me. Our eyes meet. The graininess in his eyes is deep, pronounced. His face, more decayed than the older man's, suggests he's been a thirsty for longer, despite his youthful death.

The elderly man tries to speak again. Another thirsty, a woman with scraggly dark hair and patches of scalp torn out, also turns to look at me, followed by others. Only those who appear less decayed seem capable of forming words, their lips moving silently. I find myself leaning forward, as if straining to hear them.

I want to step back, to break away from their gazes, but I'm captivated, much like the night Donovan first held me with his mind. My body is transfixed, but my mind remains alert.

“No ...” a whisper echoes in my head.

“What the heck are they doing?” Tasha's voice startles me as she joins me, her gaze focused downward. She seems to have shaken off her earlier daze. The darkness acts like a curtain, highlighting the scene below. If it weren't for the thirsty gazing upward, I might have noticed Tasha's transformation from vulnerable to seemingly unafraid. But I don’t question it, nor does it matter at this moment.

“I don’t know,”I reply, my voice barely a whisper. The young Asian man has detached himself from the group and is moving with a purposeful stride. Unlike the typical, erratic shuffle of the thirsty, his steps are steady, almost reminiscent of his human life. He reaches a wall and, after a moment's contemplation, begins to climb it with an eerie, spider-like agility.

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