“No!”
Harper’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re denying turning Ian Moreton into a vampire.”
Jesse hesitated a fraction of a second, but it was all Harper needed to see the truth. Jesse caved. “No, I turned him. But it was an accident.”
“Of course it was.” He motioned to his men and they grabbed Jesse by the arms. “That’s an interesting story, Sykes, and we’ll be looking into all aspects of it while you join us back at the station.” Harper sighed and shook his head. “Take him to the van.”
Oh fuck, they were gonna put him in one of their cells. “Wait. Call Ian, ask him what happened.” He hadn’t wanted to involve Ian yet, but the cat was out of the fucking bag now.
“We’ve already spoken to Mr Moreton.” Harper’s eyes were like ice. “Where do you think we got the photo?”
No. No, no, no.
“How could he take the fucking photo if he was almost dead?” Couldn’t they see he was being set up?
“That’s none of your concern.”
More likely they didn’t give a fuck, as long as they had one vampire to blame.
“I want to talk to Raph.” As part of the agreement, any vampire arrested by the VLCD had the right to speak to their coven leader.
Harper eyed him like he was the stupidest vampire on the planet. “We’ve already called him. He’s on his way to headquarters now.”
Of course. They needed Raph so they could check his tracker, which would puthimat the scene of the fucking crime and no one else.
Motherfucking bastard.
Jesse’s shoulders slumped.
Had he misjudged everything so badly? Had Ian been waiting all this time to go to the police and give them Jesse? And what had happened to Lys?
Dread pooled in his stomach, his mind conjuring up one awful scenario after another.
He didn’t fight as the police dragged him towards their black van waiting on the street. Didn’t resist when they shoved him inside the back and shackled him to the floor. What was the point?
The van doors slammed shut with a finality heavier than the iron around his wrists.
He was so unbelievably fucked.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lys came to with a choked off cry, hands flying to her chest.
What the fuck?
Her fingers found the metal spike protruding from her rib cage, but she didn’t have the strength to pull it out.
Iron.
Pain, hot and fierce, radiated out from her chest, burning through her body to the very tips of her toes. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus, tried to fight through the haze of pain and remember how the fuck she’d ended up on the floor of her bedroom with an iron—and silver by the feel of it—spike through her body.
Keys.
She’d forgotten her bloody car keys.
Her bedroom was directly below Jesse’s and she’d rushed down there, opened the door, and—
Nothing.
