Page 53 of Vampire Soldier

Finally.

I lean my back against the door and close my eyes. Just for a second.

It’s not real silence. I can still hear echoes of laughter, the hum of equipment powering down, the muffled thud of the cleaning team dragging something heavy across stage left. But to me, to the marrow-sore woman in this tiny office padded in cracked plaster and pride—it’s silence.

My breath leaves me in a gust. Exhaustion sinks claws into the base of my spine. A new kind of heaviness weighing behind my ribs—not hurt. Not quite.

Relief. Almost rich enough to taste.

I’m still riding the high. But underneath that victory, grief unfurls slow and bitter like smoke after fireworks. I wish Charlie had been here. I wish she’d seen it. I flip my phone open, needing that scrap of connection. A single notification blinks?—

It’s a photo from Tonya. Charlie passed out, curled up on Tonya’s couch, held hostage by a massive blanket and a tray of snacks. Her hand is tucked under her cheek, sound asleep with her current favorite show on in the background. My girl. My baby. Safe.

A message from Tonya below it:“She was out by 9. Why don’t you let her sleep and pick her up in the morning?”

The message was sent an hour ago, sometime after the intermission between acts. I press the call button next to her name, and she picks up before the third ring.

“Hey, honey,” Tonya says, voice warm and familiar. “How did tonight go? Amazing?”

“Yeah.” I exhale, the answer catching in my throat even as I grin again. “It was better than I hoped. Everything just… clicked. I’m so proud of the team.”

“I knew it would.” She smiles through the line, I can hear it.

“I just saw your message. Are you sure it’s okay if Charlie stays over?”

She lets out a soft, knowing laugh. “That girl was snoring before the credits rolled. She’s fine, sweetheart. Let her sleep. You’ve got enough on your plate tonight.”

I exhale, relief loosening something tight in my chest. “Thanks. Really. I didn’t expect her to knock out so early.”

“Big nights wear out little bodies. And big hearts.” There’s a pause. “You did it, Blake. You made something beautiful tonight.”

The words land harder than I expect, and my throat tightens.

“I keep thinking about the girl I met at seventeen,” Tonya continues, her voice going thick. “Barely holding it together. Walked into my club with a six-month-old on her hip and fire in her eyes. Asking for work like she didn’t have the right to beg.”

“Tonya…” I murmur, but it’s useless. My eyes are already burning.

“You gave up a full ride to art school for Charlie. You didn’t even blink. And now look at you. Running the show in a place like The Place. That’s not luck, baby. That’s grit. That’s all you.”

I press a hand to my chest, blinking fast. “You can’t say stuff like that. I’m still wearing mascara.”

“Good,” she says, smiling through the line. “Let it run. You earned every smudge.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Now go breathe for a minute. I’ve got our girl. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Pride twists under my skin, tangled with guilt.

The past week has been a blur of tech rehearsals, lighting adjustments, costume crises, and twelve-hour days that bled into sleepless nights. Especially the last two nights—ever since someone broke into our home, everything’s been shifted sideways. Malachi didn’t hesitate. He got us out. Got us safe.

I’ve barely seen Charlie. Barely sat with her for more than a bowl of cereal or a quick check-in between comms calls and caffeine. And she never complained. Not once. She made her own lunches. Texted me bad jokes. Left notes on my laptop that said things like “You’ve got this, boss lady.”

And still, through all of it, Charlie didn’t complain. Not about the upheaval, not about the tension hanging between me and Malachi, not even about sleeping in a borrowed bed that wasn’t ours.

She’s twelve, and already more resilient than most adults I know.

I hate that my dream to provide came at the cost of time with her. Hate how much she had to give up too, just so I could chase something that wasn’t even promised. But I’m glad I didn’t walk away. I’m glad I took that second offer. That I came in, even when it felt too late, even when everything in me screamed I wasn’t ready.

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