At first, I thought Vlad was simply fucking with me, but now…
Now I wonder if his intentions were far more insidious than I ever imagined. He alluded to working for someone who wanted my mate, but I’m beginning to believe that “someone” is not an Elder.
Or if they are an Elder, they’re working independently of the others.
Which means I’m exactly where I need to be to get answers.
Edward abruptly grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my head back, and pain radiates up and down my neck as my muscles strain.
“Don’t fuck with me, boy. You won’t like the consequences if you do,” he hisses, and a tendril of fear skitters down my spine.
Looking at Edward, you’d never imagine he’s a centuries-old vampire with an insatiable taste for blood that makes serial killers look like goddamn Girl Scouts. Everything about him screams “normal,” from his disheveled hair, to his freshly shaven face, to the suit that clings to his muscular physique.
It’s his eyes that give him away—bright red and oozing a malevolent danger.
“I’ve been nothing but loyal,” I respond through gritted teeth. “As soon as everything went to shit with the shifters, I ran. Stayed hidden for a day or two until shit blew over.”
Edward’s cold, red eyes run over me, but all I allow him to see is the unbridled rage on my face. These Elders are bloodthirsty psychopaths. They need to believe I’m one too.
Hell, maybe I am.
God only knows the number of people I’ve killed because they asked me to.
Edward finally releases me with a derisive scoff and moves back towards the others. He grabs a champagne flute off a passing waiter’s tray and takes a long sip, his lips turning blood red.
When it becomes apparent that he isn’t going to do or say anything more, I push myself to my feet—ignoring the grumbled warning from the vampire behind me.
“Are you done treating me like a goddamn criminal?” I hiss, brushing imaginary dirt off my pants.
If I can get these bastards to trust me, then maybe I can figure out their end goal.
Why did they attack the shifters?
Who’s the mastermind of all of this? Edward?
Why did Vlad want Izzy?
“You know we didn’t have a choice,” Piper hisses, her hand clenching around her glass. “After what the shifters did to us first…”
She shakes her head with a scowl.
Wait…what?
“The vamps they killed were only a year or two old. Practically newborns,” Telly agrees with a faraway look in her eyes. “They didn’t deserve to be slaughtered.”
Slaughtered?
Vampires were…killed? By shifters?
My confusion must be plain to see on my face because Edward’s expression turns contemplative.
“You didn’t know,” he murmurs.
It’s not a question.
Still, I shake my head anyway.
“We didn’t start this war, son,” Marcus Brown tells me stiffly, from where he stands beside his husband. “But wewillfinish it. Even if that means turning our enemies against each other.”
