24. Chapter 24

Darick

I wait silently in the darkness, waiting for the pull of our bond to grow stronger. The warmth of the gold pendant is building to the point that it's burning my skin.

And I feel her. The pull has me turning to face a looming structure barely a hundred yards away from the station.

Bingo.

I approach the abandoned industrial building, my footsteps silent on the cracked pavement. The scent of rust and damp concrete fills my nostrils, but there's something else. Something that lifts the tiny hairs on the back of my neck.

Magic.

I pause, focusing my heightened senses. The magical signatures are faint, barely detectable, but they're there. Intertwined with them is the familiar scent of vampires. Something is out of whack. This isn't just the trace of witches in the vicinity; it's magic at work. This combination shouldn't exist.

I've lived for over a thousand years, and in all that time, I've never encountered vampires and witches working together like this. It's unnatural. Wrong. There's something deeper, more sinister at play here.

I scan the building, noting the boarded-up windows and rusted metal doors. The train tracks nearby are silent, but I can smell the lingering scent of oil and steel. It's the perfect hiding place – secluded, forgotten by the world.

As I move closer, the magical signatures grow stronger, confirming my suspicions. They're not just residual traces; there are active spells at work here. Wards, probably. Designed to keep intruders out – or perhaps to keep something in.

I think of Rowan, trapped inside. The blood bond between us pulses faintly, confirming her presence. But there's something off about it, like static on a radio frequency. Whatever spells are in place, they're interfering with our connection. The reason I haven't been able to feel her.

My fangs extend involuntarily as anger surges through me. Whoever is behind this – whatever their motives – they've made a grave mistake.

They've taken what's mine.

I pull out my phone, fingers flying over the screen as I compose a message to Marcus. Every second counts, but I can't rush in blindly. Not when the stakes are this high.

"Marcus, I've found her. Abandoned industrial building near the old train station on the outskirts of witch territory. Magic and vampires involved. Inform Evelyn Blackwood immediately. Proceeding with caution. Need backup."

I hit send, knowing Marcus will understand the urgency. Part of me wants to wait, to have the full force of our allies behind me. But the pull of the blood bond is growing stronger, more insistent. Rowan's in there, and she needs me now.

Time to move.

I approach the building. The wards shimmer faintly in my vision, hinting at the power behind them. But I've faced worse in my long existence. I reach out, testing the magical barrier with my own energy.

There's a weakness. Subtle, but present. Whether by design or oversight, I can't be sure. But it's my way in.

I focus my power, centuries of experience channeled into this moment. The ward bends, then parts like a curtain. I slip through, the magic snapping back into place behind me.

Inside, the air is thick with the mingled scents of magic and vampires. It's wrong, discordant, setting my teeth on edge. But beneath it all, I catch a faint trace of something familiar. Rowan.

She's close.

I keep moving silently, then freeze when something catches my attention. A familiar odor wafts through the air, one I've caught traces of on Rowan before. It's…it's… Heath! That fucking witch boy. Every muscle tenses as I strain to hear, catching fragments of conversation.

"…need to get rid of her…Blackwood witch…"

Motherfucker!

Heath is involved in this, and they're planning to kill Rowan. I'd anticipated the worst when I first sensed the twisted combination of vampire presence and magic in this godforsaken place. But this? A witch working with vampires? It seems incomprehensible, yet here's the proof.

Suddenly, Rowan's jumbled thoughts from earlier make sense. The feeling of betrayal that had seeped through our bond… I push down an unexpected twinge of jealousy. Did it hurt her to discover that the male she'd been close to had betrayed her? I shake off the thought. There are more pressing matters at hand.

My fangs extend fully, rage coursing through my veins. It doesn't matter how long I've lived or what I've seen in that time; this level of treachery still manages to surprise me. Heath, the one Rowan trusted, the one her family trusted, working with their enemies. Planning to kill her.

I move silently through the shadows, following Heath's scent and the sound of his voice. Every fiber of my being screams to rush in, to tear apart anyone who dares threaten what's mine. But centuries of self-control hold me back. I need more information. I need to understand the full scope of this betrayal before I act.

As I creep closer, I catch another snippet of conversation. Heath's voice, tinged with urgency and…is that regret?

"…no other choice. If they find out I'm involved…"

As he keeps talking, something dawns on me. Not only is he not alone, but there are several others with him. I make out at least half a dozen vampires. More witches. And the overwhelming sense of powerful magic.

More than I can take on alone. Not without risking Rowan's safety. If I go in there and fail, they'll kill her for sure.

Be smart about this, Drake.

I turn away from the voices, pushing down the rage threatening to consume me. There'll be time for retribution later. Right now, Rowan needs me.

I close my eyes, focusing on our bond. It pulses faintly, like a distant heartbeat, growing stronger with each step. I slip through the corridors, my senses attuned for any sign of guards or traps.

The scent of fear and despair hangs heavy in the air, mixed with the metallic tang of blood. My muscles tighten as I imagine what Rowan must be going through.

Finally, I reach a heavy metal door. The bond thrums, stronger than ever.

She's here.

I peer through the small, barred window, and my breath catches in my throat.

There she is.

Rowan sits huddled in the corner, her fiery hair dulled by the dim light. She looks small, vulnerable, but there's a determined set to her jaw that makes my chest tighten.

As if sensing my presence, she looks up. Our eyes meet, and suddenly, everything else fades away.

A flood of emotion washes over me – relief so profound it's almost painful, joy that burns brighter than the sun, and something else. Something I haven't felt in a dozen lifetimes. It's overwhelming, threatening to bring me to my knees.

For a moment, I'm lost in the depths of her green eyes, feeling more human than I have in centuries.

Her face crumples as our eyes lock. "You came," she whispers. "I knew you'd come."

It takes me a moment to find words. "How could I not?" Seeing her here, feeling our connection restored…it feels like I can breathe again. But I can't afford to lose focus. We're not out of danger yet.

I gather my strength, gripping the metal door. With a swift, controlled motion, I tear it off its hinges, the screech of protesting metal echoing through the corridor. Rowan stumbles toward me, relief evident in her eyes. Chains drag behind her, loosely binding her, but I sense the power within them. It enrages me, and I'm barely aware of the ease with which I snap the manacles off with my bare hands. But as I reach for her wrist to pull her from the stinking cell, she stops me.

"Wait! We need to save Sarah, too."

I frown, confusion momentarily overriding my urgency. "Who the hell is Sarah?"

Rowan gestures to the neighboring cell. "The witch next door. We can't leave her behind."

I hesitate, acutely aware of the precious seconds ticking away. Every moment we linger increases our risk of discovery. But the determination in Rowan's eyes is unmistakable. I've lived long enough to recognize when arguing is futile.

With a resigned sigh, I turn to the adjacent cell. The bars crumple like paper beneath my hands, revealing a barely conscious woman huddled in the corner.

"There are others," Rowan insists as I scoop Sarah into my arms. The witch is light, frighteningly so, and I can smell the sickness radiating from her.

"I'll make sure they're saved, I promise," I assure Rowan, meeting her gaze steadily. "But right now, we need to get you out of here."

I can see the conflict in her eyes, the desire to help warring with the reality of our situation. Finally, she nods, a muscle flickering in her jaw.

"Let's go," she says, and I move out of the cell, Sarah in my arms and Rowan close behind. It almost hurts not to be able to hold her, but I know there'll be time for that later.

If we get out of here…

We fucking will!

Stepping past the ruined cell door, I lead the way through the winding corridors, keenly aware of every sound, every hint of activity around us. The stench of fear and decay clings to everything, making my nose wrinkle in disgust. Rowan follows closely, her breathing labored but determined. The witch in my arms, Sarah, seems to be hanging on by a thread, and I sense that whatever has incapacitated her is affecting Rowan too.

Every fiber of my being screams to move faster, to get Rowan out of this shit heap. But I force myself to maintain a steady pace, attentive to her weakened state. The magic permeating this place grates against my skin, blocking my ability to shadow travel. It's infuriating, being stripped of one of my most useful abilities when we need it most.

I pause at an intersection, listening intently. Footsteps echo in the distance, but I can't pinpoint their direction. This place is a maze designed to confuse and trap. But I've lived too long, faced too many enemies to let it defeat me now.

"This way," I say to Rowan, choosing the left path. She nods, trust evident in her eyes despite everything. It stirs something in me, a feeling I haven't experienced in centuries.

We've barely made it halfway down the corridor when an ear-splitting alarm shatters the silence. Red lights flash, bathing everything in an eerie glow. Rowan gasps, her eyes wide with fear.

"Fuck," I growl. They've discovered our escape. I can hear shouts and running footsteps, growing closer by the second.

"Move!" I urge, quickening our pace. I pray my instincts are leading us toward an exit and not deeper into this trap. Rowan stumbles, exhaustion clear in every line of her body. Without thinking, I reach out and grasp her hand, lending her my strength as I balance the other woman precariously over my shoulder.

The contact sends a jolt through me, our blood bond flaring to life in full force. For a moment, I can feel everything she's feeling – fear, determination…and something warm and bright that I don't dare name. Because I can feel it in me, too. An emotion that has been growing steadily since the first moment I heard her voice in my head.

Pushing the thought aside, I concentrate on moving forward, getting us out of here; there'll be time to explore these feelings later.

There's a door up ahead; one savage kick takes it off its hinges. I burst through the doorway, Rowan's hand still clasped in mine, Sarah's limp form over my shoulder. The sight of tall windows along one side of the room sends a surge of hope through me, but it's short-lived. As my eyes adjust to the dim light, my heart sinks.

The windows face east.

The sky is already lightening with the approaching dawn. The sun is rising.

"Shit," I mutter, my mind racing. I'm old enough to survive a brief kiss of the sun. I even managed to get through Rowan's sunblast. But full daylight?

I won't make it.

Rowan's grip on my hand tightens. "Darick?" Her voice is laced with fear.

I'm about to respond when I hear them. Footsteps, dozens of them, drawing closer. The mingled scents of vampire and witch grow stronger, confirming my worst fears. There are too many. Even at full strength, I couldn't take them all on while protecting Rowan and Sarah.

We're trapped.

I scan the room desperately, searching for anything we can use. It's some kind of storage area filled with crates and old machinery. Nothing that screams "escape route."

What do we do?

Wait for them to take us, resign ourselves to whatever fate they have planned for us? I could make it out…might be able to get Rowan free… Maybe.

"Darick, what do we do?" Rowan's voice trembles slightly as she echoes my thoughts, but there's steel beneath it. She hasn't given up yet. And neither will I.

I meet her gaze, seeing my own determination reflected there. "You're going to get out of here," I say grimly, gently setting Sarah down. "The windows. It's not a long way down."

I look at Rowan, her eyes wide…and they're the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. Then my gaze shifts to the windows once more, where the sky is rapidly lightening.

‘An impossible choice.' Evelyn Blackwood's voice rings in my mind.

And yes, the choice before me is impossible. Yet it's crystal clear.

In one fluid motion, I pull the pendant from my jacket pocket and press it into Rowan's hand, closing her fingers around it. I bring her fist to my lips, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. The warmth of her skin against mine sends a jolt through our bond.

The footsteps are right outside now. I can hear voices, barked orders.

"Whatever happens," I say, my voice low and intense, "know that I—"

Something hits the door with a thunderous crash. I spin instantly, my fangs fully extending as I position myself between Rowan and the entrance. The first rays of sunlight begin to peek over the horizon, painting the room with a soft golden glow. In that moment, my decision is made.

I will not let them have her.

"Run," I growl, my eyes never leaving the doorway. "Take Sarah and go. Now!"

I can feel Rowan's hesitation, her reluctance to leave me behind. But there's no time for arguments or tearful goodbyes. Every second counts.

"Darick," she whimpers, and the agony in her voice rips a hole in my heart. "I can't—"

"Go!" I roar, letting my vampiric nature surface fully. My fangs are bared, and I can feel the change in my eyes as they shift to a predatory crimson.

The door bursts open, and the room floods with our pursuers – a group of witches led by Heath. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene, shock and anger playing on his face.

I bare my fangs in a feral grin, a bloodthirsty laugh rumbling from my chest. This is a game I know. And I play it well.

"Hello, witch boy," I snarl. "Let's dance."