Page 13 of Let Sleeping Vampires Lie

Raven blinked quickly, swallowing hard. “What if Marcus didn’t know what he was selling? What if he was tricked?”

“He might be innocent,” I said. “We won’t assume anything until we speak to him.”

Con didn’t look back, but his voice carried through the car. “We’ll handle it. Nothing happens to Isra. We protect our family.”

Raven exhaled, a shaky sound that cut straight through me. Her anxiety pressed along our bond again, frantic, as if she were trying to keep it from spreading to Rene in his weakened state.

He was too fragile to leave the mansion, too drained from whatever Valerian’s realm had pulled from him. Raven had nearly refused to come, but Rene insisted she follow this lead, telling her he’d be waiting when she returned.

I wasn’t convinced. She wasn’t either. That fear lived like a tremor beneath her ribcage.

The club’s neon sign appeared ahead, glowing pink and blue against the night. Music thumped through the closed doors, a steady rhythm that vibrated against the pavement. Cars lined the street, and a small line of humans waited outside, unaware of the supernatural storm brewing above their heads.

As Con pulled into a side alley reserved for staff, Raven leaned forward, voice low and tight.

“I don’t know what we’ll find. But if Marcus hurt Isra…” Her eyes brightened. “I won’t forgive it.”

“Neither will we,” I said.

The car rolled to a stop.

Con shut off the engine.

Raven gripped the door handle, drawing a shaky breath.

“Let’s get answers,” she whispered.

We stepped out into the cool night air.

The bass from Club Spice pulsed through the walls, muffled but insistent, as if the building itself knew something was wrong.

And it was waiting for us to uncover it.

The moment we stepped through the doors of Club Spice, the familiar rush of color and sound washed over us. The floor shook with music, lights swept across the stage, and the crowd roared its approval.

Ginger Spice in a cascade of fiery curls and glitter—stood center stage. She spun with a practiced flourish, her sequined gown catching every beam of light in the room. The fabric shimmered like molten gold as she lip-synched to an upbeat track, hips swaying with effortless confidence. At the height of the chorus, she strutted to the edge of the platform, blew a kiss to a table of cheering patrons, then twirled again, sending her skirt flaring around her like a halo.

She looked like she owned the entire club.

Honestly, she did.

No one could command a room like Ginger.

But tonight, none of us were here to enjoy the show.

Raven kept close as we cut through the crowd and made our way to the side stairwell. The musicians’ beat dulled behind the door, replaced by the hum of the upstairs hallway. The climb to the private suite felt longer than usual, tension hanging thick between each step.

Raven had already called ahead. Isra would be waiting.

At the top of the stairs, the door to the suite opened before we could knock. Jana stood there, her eyes brightening the second she saw her mother.

“Mom!” She threw her arms around Raven, hugging her tight. “I’m glad you popped over. I know you’ve been busy.”

The words were casual, almost cheerful, but the fact she didn’t mention Rene’s condition made my stomach twist. Someone had warned her to keep quiet.

Probably Culgan.

Jana only knew about Rene because her pack leader told her. She didn’t know we were here because Marcus might be tied to something darker. She didn’t know we were about to turn her father’s world upside down.