Page 80 of Vampire Soldier

I don’t think I actually inhale. I watch—frozen, straining, sick—as the screen settles. Shadows ripple behind him, but the camera focuses sharp and bright on the narrow alley edge of a place I know far too well. Swept asphalt, tidy dumpsters, power-washed bricks. The alley by The Place in Newgate. He’s standing in front of the staff door on the side of the building, where the deliveries go.

He’s holding Charlie, an arm around her shoulders.

My baby girl.

My daughter’s hands are tucked against her chest in a white hoodie—a new one Malachi picked up for her with a little astronaut floating past jellyfish. Her eyes are wide, skin pale under the yellow alley lights, but she’s alive. She’s so very alive. Her expression doesn’t crack. Not even once. Except, when her eyes find me through the camera lens, I see it. The fight. The fear. And my heart is torn down the middle.

A whisper of breath escapes me, part sob, part prayer. Eloise’s fingers clamp over mine, hard now. A tether to reality, when everything else wants to free fall.

“Blake,” Kit says, like my name tastes sweet on his tongue. He tilts the camera so I can see more of Charlie, the alley behind them stretching out in pale amber streetlight. His grin is too wide, too white. “I think I should be thanking you for turning me down all those times.”

I see red so sharp it eclipses speech. My blood is a thunderclap. I grit my teeth and squeeze the phone like I could reach through it.

“Charlie,” I whisper. “Sweetheart, are you okay? Tell me. Are you okay?”

She starts to nod, but Kit shifts the camera and her movement smears into static. He jerks her forward farther under his arm like she’s a display item. A flicker of pain passes through her eyes, and it takes everything in me not to scream.

“Don’t worry, she’s fine,” he drawls, thumb brushing the top of her head. “I plan to take care of her. Just like I would have taken care of you.”

My mouth tastes like blood. I don’t know if it’s from biting my cheek or if it’s just rage scratching up my throat like something feral, something old. If I could, I’d kill him right now. I wouldn’t need fangs or fire. I’d do it with my bare hands, one scream at a time.

I steady the phone even though my hand trembles. “Let her go,” I say. “Please. She’s a child. She has nothing to do with this.”

Kit tilts his head, that same predatory mock-gentleness curling through his words. “See, but that’s where you’re wrong. Everything about her has to do with this. You made her. You were meant to be mine. She’s the piece of you that never should’ve existed. And now, well…” He leans in, the whites of his eyes too bright. “Now she’s mine instead.”

Behind him, Charlie looks over her shoulder. It’s quick but I catch it. She yanks at his grip, shouting at him. “Screw you. Mal is coming and he’s going to fuck you up so bad.”

Kit jerks her closer after that; the phone jostles, angle going wild as muffled sound takes over. I hear her yelp—terror-strained, not hurt—but it still drills into me like a nail driven through bone. The screen steadies again, now too close to Kit’s face, his eyes electric with fury and something far darker beneath. His composure doesn’t just crack—it splits wide open.

I shout, drawing his attention back to me. “Kit, please. I’m sorry!” I barely notice Eloise leaving as I pour my heart into the phone. “I’ll do whatever you want, just let her go.”

Kit smooths a hand over Charlie’s shoulder, yet the action feels predatory, sinister. “This is your punishment, Blake,” he says, a manic gleam shimmering in his golden eyes. “That’s what rejection does. You should know by now—none of us gets to walk away unscathed. And Malachi—” he spins that name like a dagger, wounding. “That fucking vampire deserves to have his future taken from him. Just like he took mine away when he stole you from me.”

There’s a madness in his eyes, one that I’ve seen too many times in belligerent exes in clubs. The type of madness that erases all sense of decency and morals.

“It was a lie,” I blurt out, revealing the deception this all started with. “I was scared, Kit. I’ve never had anyone pay attention to me like you do. But I get it now.”

His eyes narrow, sharp and calculating, like he’s parsing my words for hidden meaning. “Scared of being with me? I was always kind to you!”

“I know.” I swallow hard, feeling the trembling edge of fear slip between my ribs and settle into my gut. I’ll say whatever I need to say if it keeps her safe. “But you’ve been to the club enough. You see the bad guys that try to play the strippers. I couldn’t take the chance with you, but I know you’re sincere now.”

Kit’s gaze sharpens, the manic luster in his eyes flickering with curiosity—a calculated interest. He leans in, almost conspiratorial, as if my words have piqued something old and buried inside him. “Sincere? I’ve always been honest with you, Blake! You’re supposed to be my mate. Why do you think I kept coming back to the club? You know I never watched the other strippers. Only you.”

I bite my lower lip, nodding hard. “You’re right.” I pull on every second of hard-won experience placating males of all types my entire life. I become someone else, that stripper who is innocent and just needs the right man to pay attention to her. “And I see that now. I’ll prove that I’m not really with Malachi.”

I yank down the neck of my shirt before he can answer and direct my phone’s camera towards my exposed chest. “See?” I look up to the ceiling, praying he believes me. “Malachi would have marked me if I was actually with him. No mark. I swear.”

When I dare to move the screen, Kit’s eyes are wide, a flicker of disbelief flitting across his face. The moment stretches out, taut like a bowstring, the tension morphing into a weapon of its own. My heart races—not from fear of him, but from a fierce instinct to protect my daughter at all costs.

My stomach churns, and I taste bile at the back of my throat. Then I make one more desperate leap.

“I want your mark,” I breathe out. “I never felt right with Malachi. And I think I was so nervous around you because I could feel what you do. But I’m human, so I didn’t understand. I understand now.”

The way he tilts his head, those predatory eyes calculating my worth and weighing the costs, makes goosebumps flare to life along my arms. The air thickens, suffocating, but I can’t back down. I can’t show how terrified I am, how each clench of his jaw steals a pulse from my soul.

“If you’re not lying, meet me at The Place,” he taunts and raises an eyebrow, mocking entitlement oozing from every pore. He grips Charlie’s chin, forcing her to look him in the eye, but not once does she relent, not once does she give him any semblance of power despite everything. “I want you to reject him in front of everyone, like you did me. Then I’ll mark you. If you’re lying, I’ll mark Charlie. I’ll have a part of you, no matter what.”

“I’ll be there, I swear it.”

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