Page 14 of Let Sleeping Vampires Lie

Raven stroked her daughter’s hair with a trembling hand. “I missed you too, honey.”

We stepped inside. The suite felt warm and lived-in, a mix of color and soft lighting that didn’t match the blaring energy downstairs. The couch was piled with throw blankets, Jana’s textbooks spread across the coffee table. A half-finished cup of tea steamed next to an open novel.

Isra wasn’t in the main room.

That confirmed my suspicion. He knew something was wrong. And he was avoiding the initial impact.

Raven eased onto the couch beside Jana, still holding one of her daughter’s hands. I stood near the back of the room, letting Raven lead. Con remained by the door, a silent, intense wall of muscle and authority.

Jana watched us all with a crease forming between her brows.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why do you look like that? Is this about Culgan? Or⁠—”

“No,” Raven said gently. “We need to ask your father a few questions.”

Jana blinked. “Dad? Why?”

I took a slow breath. “It’s about Marcus.”

Her expression froze, confusion first, then worry, and finally something sharper, almost protective.

“What about him?” she whispered.

Raven squeezed her hand. “We don’t know yet. That’s why we’re here.”

The room went quiet.

The kind of quiet that felt like the moment before glass shattered.

The soft click of a door deeper in the suite made the air tighten, but Isra didn’t appear yet.

Raven kept her focus on Jana, giving her daughter a chance to speak before we confronted him directly.

“Sweetheart,” Raven said gently, “tell us what you know about Marcus. Anything important. Anything you’ve noticed.”

Jana’s brows raised in surprise, then knitted together. “About Marcus? He’s… normal. Or at least as normal as someone dating Dad can be.” She tried to smile, but it faltered almost instantly.

Raven didn’t push. She simply waited, patient.

Jana breathed out slowly, her gaze drifting toward the hallway where her father was deeper in the suite, her worry for him etched in her features.

“Well… his family has money,” Jana said. “Old money. He’s mentioned it a few times, but he doesn’t brag. Dad told me once that Marcus’ parents were involved in luxury imports and investments before they passed away. That’s why he never really… worries about income.”

I exchanged a look with Con. “Luxury imports” was vague. Too vague.

Jana continued, unaware of the tension growing behind her words.

“He’s traveled a lot. Mostly overseas. Europe, South America, some parts of Africa. He said it was for work, but not, like, office work. Consulting. Logistics.” She frowned. “I don’t really know the details. He always described it as if he helped manage distribution routes. High-end merchandise needing careful handling.”

My stomach tightened. That phrasing could mean anything from fine art to highly illegal supernatural relics.

Raven shifted closer to Jana. “Has he ever talked about the kind of items he worked with?”

Jana studied her mother’s expression, sensing the seriousness behind the question. She shook her head.

“No specifics. Just… rare things.” She rubbed her arm as if piecing together scattered memories. “He said once that collectors pay a lot for pieces that are impossible to find. He made it sound harmless, like antiques or museum donations.”

Raven’s jaw tightened a fraction.