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Kian’s already moving. ‘Let’s evacuate and replan.’

Theo’s hand finds the small of my back, his fingers splayed, applying light pressure, nothing more. I follow them into the dark, my steps silent.

My mind is spinning as we move through the shadows. My arm is healed, with no marks or scars to reflect the torn skin or dislocated shoulder that I had just moments ago. Swallowing, I return my gaze to the darkness ahead. I can see everything around me like never before.

I’ve crossed a line I can’t come back from.

I have no idea what I’ve just become.

19

THEO

The Captive

The house is eerie.

Dark velvet curtains drape across the windows, making it difficult to determine if it is night or day outside. I’ve lost track of time. So much has happened, and my mind is taking a minute to catch up.

‘Well,’ a voice says. ‘You all look like hell.’

Cas leans against the doorframe, looking tall and wiry and dressed like he stepped out of a vintage noir film, pale-blond hair falling in his face, rings on every finger, wearing black jeans and a leather jacket. Despite the chaos behind us, it actually feels good to see him. Someone familiar.

His loungeroom feels like a dungeon. Daggers, swords, chains, and handcuffs cover the walls like art pieces. It’s a weird mix between a vampire den and a bachelor pad. Low lights, mismatched couches, old records playing softly in the background, with some sort of smoky incense tainting the air.

Kian moved us here as a quick escape out of the tunnels to recoup and recharge. We were prepared for a fight, but I don’t think anyone suspected rogue vampires ambushing us. I mean, Kian always thinks two steps ahead and didn’t seem fazed or surprised to see them down there, unlike the rest of us who felt shocked and unprepared. Kian is used to these kinds of fights and attacks though, he’s basically made a career out of it.

‘You’re safe here,’ Cas says. ‘No one’s followed you. Wards are up, and the blood fridge is stocked. Make yourselves at home.’

‘Thanks, Cas,’ Hunter says.

‘Don’t bleed on the rug. I just got it imported.’

Cora rolls her eyes as I help Tara toward the couch. She sits slowly, curling in on herself. I crouch beside her, careful, watching her face.

‘Talk to me,’ I say quietly. ‘Tell me what’s going on in your head.’

Tara doesn’t look at me. Just stares at her hands, flexing them as if they belong to someone else. As though she doesn’t feel like her skin belongs to her anymore. The transition is a big one, and she hasn’t had any time to adapt to it.

‘I feel … wrong,’ she whispers. ‘I don’t feel human anymore.’

‘You’re not,’ I say, just as softly. ‘But you’re still you. That doesn’t change.’

The dark eyes look pretty on her face. They make her look strikingly similar to Raya and Cora, but each of them is distinct with their own hair colouring. Raya with her soft purple, Cora with her bold red, and Tara with her cool teal.

‘You’ll feel like yourself in no time,’ Cas pipes up, offering an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Cora makes a sound that might be considered a laugh. Tara says nothing, and it pains me to see her looking so lost. I reach out and gently touch the space between her shoulder blades. When she doesn’t move away, I leave my hand there, rubbing slow, soft circles, trailing my fingers down her spine.

Tension hovers over the room as silence settles over the group. Cas disappears and returns a moment later, sipping something red from a crystal glass. I can’t tell if it’s blood or wine. Perhaps a blend of both.

‘So,’ Cas says lightly, swirling the glass. ‘What’s your plan?’

Hunter leans forward, arms braced on his thighs. ‘We need to go back. Settle this once and for all.’

‘They planned that ambush. What was it supposed to achieve? Were they hoping to take her back somehow?’ Raya asks softly.

‘My question is, since when do witches work with vampires like that?’ Kian asks, rubbing a hand down his jaw.