Page 144 of The Donor’s Dilemma

Chapter Forty-Two

If not for the adrenaline, Verity would have passed out from the pain as every step jostled her ribs. Theo’s hand never left her back, the other laced through hers. His touch so light, as if he feared he might break her further.

Theo already knew where Petra would be, leading them not toward the entrance where she’d last seen her, but deeper, down a corridor Verity had seen but never walked. The grand, cold formality of it made her feel like she was being marched to her end. Perhaps she was. They’d threatened Petra. People didn’t walk away from that unscathed.

A vampire lounged outside a set of large wooden doors, raising an eyebrow at the sight of them stumbling toward her. She nodded them through, expression grave, as though she too knew the severity of what they’d done. The severity of the ire they approached.

This was the moment Verity had dreaded all night. The moment she’d been worrying about since the idea first formed. And now, somehow, the dread quieted under the louder ache in her ribs, the steady, loving hand in hers. She’d already been through hell tonight. What more could Petra possibly add to it?

She almost laughed when she saw the room Petra had chosen. An actual courtroom. It was smaller than she expected. A bottle of gin clutched in one hand, the fingers of the other drumming against the arm of her judge’s chair high on the platform before them. Petra’s hair spilled over the armrest, nearly brushing the floor and covering more of her body than the tiny dress she wore.

Vivienne sat to her left. Jesse to her right. Neither smiled as Theo and Verity made their way down the aisle, between the empty benches. There would be no spectators for the Rose’s judgment tonight.

Jesse stared at the wall. Not blinking. Not breathing. It told them everything they needed to know about how Petra had received the articles. Vivienne, by contrast, looked straight at them, a sneer fixed on her face, as if whatever was wrong here was their fault.

“What took you so long?” Petra said, fingers still tracing the chair arm. “When I send for somebody, I expect them immediately. You have made me wait.”

The blood on Theo’s shirt, the cut on his cheek, the fact he was holding Verity upright, none of it registered. She was simply irritated at having been kept waiting. Not a good start.

“My apologies,” Theo said, his voice echoing off marble. “We were a little held up.” He shot a pointed look at Vivienne, who rolled her eyes as if she had no idea what he could possibly mean.

“Is that so?” Petra rose, leaning over the desk in front of her and jabbing a finger at the papers spread across it. Verity couldn’t see them from where she stood, just heard the rustle of pages as Petra loomed over them all. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten your place.”

“How could I...” Theo started, but Petra cut clean through him.

“You. And your human. Forget. Your. Place!” Each word landed louder than the last, clipped and deliberate, punctuated by her fist striking the table hard enough to make it shudder. “As if that does not make your little ultimatum,” she said the word like it amused her, “bad enough. You have your brother drag me to your shit-hole city so you can hand it to me in person.”

Verity’s eyes flicked to Jesse, who kept staring at the wall. She felt a stab of guilt. It had been her idea, in the end they’d agreed Jesse would be the easiest one to get close to Petra, the only one who could get her alone.

“I had always intended to...” Theo said.

“Enough.” Petra’s voice cracked through the room. “How dare you? You drag me here. You tell me your little lies...”

“They’re not lies,” Verity said.

The room darkened at the words. The temperature dropped, or it felt like it did, a weight pressing down from every angle.

“What did you say?” Petra asked, the quiet in her voice somehow more lethal than the shouting.

Theo opened his mouth, but Petra raised one finger and he fell silent.

“What,” she said again.

Verity took a small, careful breath, tasting old wood, polish, paper, the scent of an institution that had failed everyone who’d trusted it.

“None of it is lies,” she said.

Petra studied her. Nobody in the room who didn’t need to breathe did. The only sounds were Verity’s wheezing and the rush of her pulse, loud enough, she was sure, for every vampire in the room to hear exactly how frightened she was.

Sinking back into her chair, slow and heavy, a smile spread across Petra’s face. Verity couldn’t tell if that was a good sign or the worst one yet.

“You’re telling me,” Petra said, gazing into the middle distance as if working through a puzzle, “that Vivienne, whom I have known for centuries longer than you have existed, has been purposefully tearing down my life’s work? All of it? Why, pray tell, would she do such a thing?”

Petra’s eyes cut to Theo, and Verity realised, with a strange sense of amusement, that he had raised his hand like a schoolboy.

“Lord Chapel?” Petra said, gesturing for him to speak.

“Sport,” he said. “That’s what she told me.”