Page 84 of Missing Piece
Matteo took another step back, his hands fluttering in front of him as if he wanted to sign something, but they only trembled harder the longer he stared at the blood dripping onto the floor. A snarl ripped from his throat, feral and desperate.
In a flash, Matteo dropped to his knees beside the whiteboard and scrawled out an address in shaky letters. But the moment his task was done, his focus snapped back to the tantalizing blood splatter.
Adam committed the address to memory, mouthing it silently until he was certain he wouldn’t forget. When he looked up, Matteo was lapping at the droplets on the concrete, consumed by bloodlust. The sight turned Adam’s stomach. He took a step back from the ravenous vampire, dropping the knife with a clatter.Jesus Christ.Adam suppressed a gag, unsure if it was from the gruesome display or the fact that he was allowing Matteo to consume some of his blood.
Above them, the basement door flew open with a resounding crack as Tariq came barreling down the steps. “Adam!”he yelled, panic lacing his voice. “Get away from him!”
Matteo glanced up, lips and chin smeared with blood, sneering as Tariq shoved Adam back and placed himself between the two. “Eyes on me, eyes on me,” Tariq said aloud to him, beginning to sign at Matteo as he rose to his feet.
Matteo’s features softened as he looked past Tariq, meeting Adam’s eyes. There was a little nod there, just for a second, before he emitted another low growl at Tariq. Maybe Adam had imagined it, but it seemed like Matteo was telling him to go.
“Adam, get out of here,” Tariq said, glancing back at him.
He didn’t need to be told twice. Adam bolted for the stairs, glancing back only enough to see Matteo lunge forward again and knock Tariq to the ground. He didn’t manage to take a breath until he reached the basement door and slammed it shut behind him, sliding all three locks back into place as he heard Tariq yelling something indecipherable. “Sorry,” he muttered.
I hope they don’t kill each other.He grabbed a kitchen towel as he moved through, wrapping it around his bleeding forearm, and went to the door, whipping it open. He paused staring at his reflection in the glass of that creaky storm door he had once listened to open and close, waiting with baited breath throughout the day to plot his escape.
Am I really doing this? Am I going to undoubtedly get myself killed for someone who wanted to torture me into being his pet blood bank?He closed his hand around the handle of the storm door, the worn metal glacial in his sweaty palm.
He had spent his whole life being selfish and hiding. Hiding from his mother’s pain, and his father’s indifference, numbing himself in anger and acting out for astray neuron of dopamine to fill the painful void in himself where love and affection should have been. And when that void metastasized, he filled it with drugs and rage until the line between himself and the void vanished and all that was left was a self-loathing leech waiting for a bad batch to take him out of the world once and for all.
But then Vincent appeared in his life and upended all that with a smirk and a syringe full of ketamine. Somehow, through all the pain and lust and isolation out in the country, Vincent had filled that void. He didn’t dream about getting high or wake up angry anymore. He could feel. Really feel. He had wasted so much of his life being numb, but the endless pit inside him was finally shrinking and he wanted nothing more than to learn how to enjoy life again.
He didn’t want to do any of that without Vincent.
Chapter Thirty-Two - Vincent
Go back home,his beast urged.
“I have to do this,” Vincent muttered to himself as he sat in his car, eyes fixed on the abandoned warehouse locals called “Ghost Town.” The old rail yard had long been in the process of being reclaimed by nature, a jungle of broken concrete and overgrown vegetation. It had once been a place for the homeless to hide from the elements, but rumors of actual ghosts and satanic rituals scared away a good portion of those who made it their temporary home.
An eerie stillness hung over the place. No tents, no signs of life. Only the faint metallic scent of blood, both fresh and old, wafting from inside.
He’d sat outside for almost two hours, watching for any sign of the cult or Richard himself.
Deep down, his beast stirred restlessly.Go back.
I can’t.The risk of leaving Richard to his own twisted machinations would bring the attention of hunters eventually, and as tough as Adam was, the human wasn’t fireproof.
Kill the bastard. Then go home to our Adam.
Vincent’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He wanted so badly to strike quickly and violently, to end the threat, but there was the unknownfactor. Richard had been using the idea of a cult as cover for a century-long vendetta—that alone made him more unreasonable than even the worst hunters. Vincent couldn’t let his guard down. He would watch the place every night if it meant stopping Richard’s brazen actions.
But as the minutes ticked by with no activity, doubt began to creep in. What if this was a dead end? What if Richard let his location be known and was leading him on a wild goose chase while the real threat lurked elsewhere?
He thought of Adam, alone at the farmhouse with only Tariq for protection. Vincent trusted the young vampire, but his beast stirred possessively at the idea of anyone else watching over his human.
He couldn’t let his emotions cloud his judgment. Not now, not when so much was at stake. They had spent years carving out a home in this little city surrounded by corn fields. Marcus and Ophelia and the brothers, hell, even the younger vampires, were his family. He couldn’t risk all their lives. Not when they had all sacrificed so much. Richard’s inane ideas and recklessness stood in opposition to their safety.
He made Richard, however unwittingly. He had to be the one to remove him.
Kill him now.
“Fine.” Vincent got out of the car and approached the building, wincing as each careful step made the crunch of gravel beneath his feet sound like a siren in the still night. The iron tang of fresh blood intensified as he drew closer, making the anxiety gnawing at his core grow.
He paused at a large broken window, listening for any signs of movement inside.Too quiet,the beast warned. Vincentnodded to himself in agreement. He steeled himself as he climbed through the window.
He moved carefully through the rubble, his steps silent on the fractured cement ground.Stupid to come unarmed,the beast grumbled.
