Page 77 of Blood Vows
Tal fell quiet then, his jaw working. He fished his phone from his jacket as it buzzed, his thumb flicking the screen. His eyes widened a fraction, and before I could force the words out, he looked up and grinned, the kind of grin that tasted like trouble.
“Looks like we will not have to wait long,” he said, voice low.
“The witch, she’s been found.”
Relief and fury braided together in my chest, sharp and immediate. Finally, someone to interrogate, finally someone who might tell us what had been done to our family. If she knewanything useful, I would make her pay for hiding it, and if she did not, then she would pay for wasting my time.
Either way, I felt the old promise coil in my gut, the same promise that had driven me for decades, the one that would not let me rest until the truth had been pulled out and…
Bled dry.
28
THE CALL OF CRIMSON
VANESSA
For a moment, the room was nothing but chaos and silence colliding. Vas’s mother lay crumpled against the wall, her eyes wild and unfocused, her breath coming in sharp, broken gasps. The sight of her was something torn between madness and fragility, her hands still twitching as if the echo of violence refused to leave her body.
Vas was no longer the man I had known only moments ago. His entire being seemed to shift, the darkness around him coiling tighter, trembling under the weight of fury barely contained. I stood frozen, clutching my bleeding shoulder, watching as his hand closed around his mother’s wrist. Not cruelly, but with a force that said there would be no argument.
“Enough,”he growled, voice low and trembling with restraint. Her head lolled to the side, and for the first time, I saw the resemblance. The sharp lines of her cheekbones, the dark hair streaked with silver, the same piercing blue eyes that looked like midnight frozen over. His mother. The woman I had thought dead.
My chest tightened. I could barely find my breath as he lifted her easily into his arms. For a second, her gaze flicked to me. The madness in it made my stomach twist, her lips twitching into something between a smile and a snarl.
“Stay here,” Vas said, his voice softer now but leaving no room for disobedience.
“Put something on those wounds. I will come back for you.” And then he was gone, disappearing into the corridor. The sound of his footsteps faded until I was left with nothing but my ragged breathing and the faint rustle of feathers still settling around the room, evidence of the attack all around me.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, the pain in my arm flaring as I pressed a trembling hand over the cut. My other hand shook as I reached up, brushing my fingers through my hair, only to flinch when the roots ached from where she had yanked me down. My top was torn, the neckline ripped and gaping. I stared down at the mess of it all, at the faint streaks of blood already drying on my skin, and it hit me.
His mother.
The woman he said was gone.
But she wasn’t gone at all. She was here, alive, a nightmare wrapped in silk and madness. My thoughts tangled, each one more frantic than the last. Why had he lied? Had he lied to protect me or to protect her? And what had she become? What had happened to twist her into that thing I had just fought off?
I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth to stop the sob that threatened to escape. My entire body trembled, and not just from the pain. I had trusted him. I had given myself to him. And now I was bleeding in a room full of feathers, wondering how much of what I knew had ever been real.
The storm outside had quieted, but inside the manor, something else had begun to stir. The air felt thicker, heavier.The shadows along the walls seemed to move, whispering secrets that were no longer content to stay buried.
It wasn’t long before I heard the heavy sound of footsteps returning. The door opened slowly, and Vas stepped inside. His long black jacket was gone, leaving him in a dark T-shirt that clung to his chest and arms like a second skin. The fabric was stretched across broad shoulders, tracing the hard lines of muscle beneath it, still damp from rain or sweat…I couldn’t tell which. He looked less like the monster he claimed to be and more like something dangerously human.
He paused when he saw me, sitting on the edge of the bed, the torn fabric of my top hanging from one shoulder, streaks of blood marking my arm. For a heartbeat, something unreadable flashed across his face. Fury, regret, and guilt all tangled into one expression that made my chest tighten.
Then he was moving. In two long strides, he was in front of me, sinking to one knee. His hands hovered over me, steady yet trembling slightly, his eyes tracking every bruise, every mark left behind.
“Why didn’t you stay in your room?” he asked quietly. The question sounded more like a plea than an accusation.
“I did,”I whispered.
“I told you not to leave,” he interrupted as if he hadn’t even listened to me, the words rough, cracking at the edges. His jaw flexed as he tried to control himself.
“Gods, Nessa…she could have killed you.”
“How Vas… how could she be your mother?” My voice trembled, my pulse pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
“You told me she was dead.”
