Page 147 of The Donor’s Dilemma

The gunshot tore through the room. Sudden and absolute.

Chapter Forty-Three

The shot echoed, reverberating off marble. Gunpowder cut through the smell of wood and polish as Verity squeezed her eyes shut. A soft thud, and then Petra’s voice, more lethal than the shot itself.

“Get out of my sight.”

When Verity opened her eyes, Jesse’s face was unreadable. No triumph. No regret. Just the quiet certainty of a job done.

“She tried to kill my brother,” he said, pocketing the gun as he turned and walked out.

Theo moved to follow, still holding Verity’s weight.

“Leave her,” Petra said.

He froze, refusing to set Verity down. The small defiance only seemed to fray Petra’s patience further. She rose from her seat, stepping down and past Vivienne’s slumped body on silent bare feet. She didn’t look at her dead friend. The soft, steady drip of blood, the only sound left in the room.

“Do you know why your brother wrote that ridiculous article?” Petra asked. “I knew it wasn’t yours, it had none of your... panache. He thought the more visible the two of you were, the harder it would be for one of you to simply vanish.” Her eyes slid to Verity. “A point I struggle to argue with.”

Theo lowered Verity onto a bench before Petra settled beside her. Something felt deeply strange about being so close to her. Level, within easy reach. Theo seemed to think so too, hovering beside them with a hand on Verity’s shoulder.

“Go, Theodor,” Petra said. “I shall give her back.”

His hand stayed where it was until Verity turned to him and nodded with a grimace of pain. “Go.”

He sighed, but left, watching over his shoulder until someone closed the door behind him.

The two women were alone.

Verity glanced once at Vivienne’s body and then made herself look away. It felt as though they’d won, and yet she took no joy in it. Winning didn’t mean escaping the consequences of having threatened Petra.

“Few people dare stand up to me. Even indirectly. It can be so terribly frustrating,“ Petra said, almost conversational, eyes drifting back to Vivienne. ”Do you have any idea how difficult it is, being a woman in this world? It was worse, you know. The things done to women that forgot their place, not that they needed an excuse.” Something moved behind her eyes, brief and old and not entirely performance. “Viv showed promise. We could have ruled it all together. She was that good. For the first few decades at least.”

Verity blinked but said nothing. There was a version of her sentiment that Verity could understand. An ancient creature born into a different world, a world where a woman in a seat of power would have been insanity. What had happened to tiny, human Petra, to the vampire since, that made her want to surround herself with women? If she weren’t so terrifying, Verity’s heart might have ached for her. It didn’t change the fact that Petra had allowed Vivienne’s scheming and manoeuvring to go unchecked.

“Well, it’s done now, isn’t it?” Petra said, turning her attention fully onto Verity, looking her over slowly. “You’d make quite the vampire.“ Verity’s heart nearly stopped at the implication. ”I’m rather good at it, you know. And you’d outrank Theo if I turned you. Wouldn’t you like that?”

What was this? Replace Vivienne with the closest woman? Verity had no desire to outrank Theo.

“No, thank you,” she said.

Petra looked genuinely startled. “Really? I’ve had very few failures.” She said it as casually as if discussing the weather, as if the offer wouldn’t fundamentally remake, or end, Verity’s entire life.

It struck Verity, somewhere beneath the fear and the pain, how unthinkable it was to weigh something like that now. Cracked ribs, a twisted arm, a graze on her cheek and a throbbing ache in her leg she couldn’t remember starting. The adrenaline was draining away, leaving every wound behind it raw. How could anyone make a decision under these conditions?

She found herself wondering, briefly, how young Petra herself had been when she was turned. Younger than Verity now, surely. Early twenties? Jesse’s age? Had she understood, all those centuries ago, what she was agreeing to? Had she been given a choice?

“I’m grateful,” Verity managed. “Truly. It would be an honour but...”

Petra waved the rest of the sentence away before she could finish it. “Fine. Most would jump at the chance, but if you don’t want it... You are a curious creature.” She studied her for another moment. “So, let us decide your fate.”

Verity thought that was what they’d just done.

“Offering you a gift,” Petra said, “does not mean I have forgiven you.”

Verity nodded. She hadn’t expected forgiveness to come easily.

“How about,” Petra went on, “a little ultimatum of my own?”