14. Chapter 14

14

Chapter 14

Soren

I pace the operations room, my footsteps echoing in the tense silence. I'm struggling to come to terms with what's been going on; it doesn't sit well with me. Mia's condition, Lucien's callousness, the moral mess I find myself in – I don't like it. I don't fucking like it at all.

The door opens, and team members begin to file in. The humans among them look disheveled, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Confusion is etched on their faces – late-night summons aren't common here.

"Sir?" Grayson, my second-in-command, approaches. "What's the situation?"

I hold up a hand, silencing him. "We'll begin when everyone's here."

Minutes tick by, each second grating on my already frayed nerves. Finally, the door swings open one last time. Heath stalks in, his face a mask of annoyance.

My jaw clenches at the sight of him. A witch betraying his own kind. The very thought turns my stomach. I've lived for centuries, seen countless acts of treachery, but this…this feels particularly vile.

Heath's eyes meet mine, and I don't bother hiding my disgust. He returns my glare with equal intensity. The air between us crackles with unspoken hostility.

I clear my throat, drawing everyone's attention. The room falls silent, all eyes on me.

"Listen up," I say, my voice cutting through the tension. "There are going to be some changes around here." I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in. A few uneasy glances are exchanged, but no one dares to speak.

"First," I continue, "we're improving the living quarters for the witches. They're not animals, and we won't treat them as such. I want better beds, proper sanitation, and some semblance of comfort. Make it happen."

Grayson nods, jotting down notes. Heath's face darkens, but he remains silent.

"Second, we're reducing the frequency of blood drawing. From now on, it's every second day, not daily. Their bodies need time to recover, and we're not going to bleed them dry."

This elicits a few murmurs of surprise. I silence them with a sharp look.

"Third, and this is crucial – increased rest and recovery time for the captives. That means proper meals, time outside their cells, and medical check-ups to ensure they're healthy."

I scan the room, meeting each pair of eyes. "These changes are non-negotiable. Anyone who has a problem with this can take it up with me directly. Understood?"

A chorus of "Yes, sir" echoes through the room. Heath's voice is noticeably absent.

Grayson steps forward, his brow furrowed. "Sir, I understand the need for better conditions, but what about security? Won't giving them more freedom increase the risk of escape attempts?"

I nod, acknowledging his concern. "A valid point, Grayson. We'll need to adjust our protocols, but remember: a content prisoner is less likely to attempt escape. We'll implement new security measures to counterbalance the increased freedom."

Elena speaks up next. Her voice is tinged with worry. "But Lord Daire, what about our quotas? Lucien's been clear about the amount of blood he expects. If we reduce the frequency of extraction, how will we meet those demands?"

I turn to face her, my expression resolute. "I'm glad you brought that up, Elena. The truth is, our current methods are unsustainable. We're pushing the witches to their limits, and it's counterproductive."

I pause, making sure I have everyone's attention before continuing. "Think of it this way – if we treat the witches better, allow their bodies time to recover between extractions, we'll actually increase our overall yield. Healthier witches mean stronger, more potent blood. Quality over quantity."

I can see the gears turning in their minds as they process this information. Some nod in understanding, while others still look skeptical.

"Look," I say, my voice softening slightly, "I know this is a significant change. But trust me when I say it's necessary for our long-term operations. We need these witches alive and relatively healthy. Dead witches produce no blood at all." I stifle a shudder as I say it. Lucien all but admitted that he has no qualms about bleeding these people dry, how he doesn't care if they don't survive. I don't even want to think about where the bodies are buried.

I lock eyes with Heath, his challenge hanging in the air. The room goes silent, tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Is there a problem, Heath?" I ask, my voice dangerously low.

He smirks, crossing his arms. "Just wondering when the great Soren Daire got so…soft."

I take a step toward him, my fangs itching to descend. "Soft? I'd think you, of all people, would be pleased to see an improvement in the lives of your brethren."

Heath's eyes narrow. "They're a means to an end, nothing more. There's no sense in getting attached to them. They're not pets."

"You're right," I growl, "they're not pets. They're human beings, and they will be treated as such."

A cruel laugh escapes Heath's lips. "Well, well. I never thought I'd see the day that a vampire aspired to be more than a monster."

In a flash, I'm inches from his face, my voice a low, menacing whisper. "Don't push your luck, witch. You're on thin ice as it is."

Heath doesn't back down, his violet eyes blazing with defiance. "Am I? And here I thought I was an invaluable asset to your little operation."

"Assets can become liabilities," I snarl. "Don't forget your place here." But as I say the words, I can't help but wonder exactly what place this witch has in our ranks. Lucien Marlowe has never hidden his contempt for witches, and here we are, working with one. Probably more, if my guess is on point. Heath certainly isn't in this alone. He has fellow conspirators.

But to what end?

"So, if you're done with this little update, can we go?" he asks me now. His insolence sets my teeth on edge, but I don't rise to the bait. This isn't the time to lose control. I've dealt with far worse than an arrogant witch over the centuries.

Ignoring him, I turn my attention back to the others. "Let me make something abundantly clear to everyone in this room." I sweep my gaze across the assembled team, letting my eyes linger on each face. "These new rules aren't up for debate. They're not suggestions. They're orders coming directly from me." I lock eyes with Heath, my gaze cold and unyielding. "And for those who might be tempted to disregard them, let me emphasize: there will be consequences."

I step back, addressing the entire room once more. "I don't make idle threats. There will be no more abuse of our charges. And this applies to everyone from the highest ranks to the lowest." I set my jaw at the thought of the guard who'd been at Mia's side when I found her unconscious on the floor. The female had certainly been responsible for her fall.

"Those who choose to ignore these changes will find themselves removed from this operation. Permanently." The implication hangs heavy in the air. In our world, "permanent" removal often means something far more final than a mere job termination.

"Are we clear?" I ask.

I watch as my words sink in. Slowly, I see nods of agreement from some team members, though uncertainty lingers on many faces.

Grayson steps forward, his expression thoughtful. "Sir, if I may?"

I nod, giving him the floor.

"I understand everyone's concerns," he begins, addressing the room. "We've been operating under a certain set of rules for a long time. Change is always daunting." He pauses, looking at each person in turn. "But I know of Lord Daire's reputation, and I trust his judgment. If he says this is the way forward, then I'm on board."

His words seem to have an impact. I see a few more nods, some of the tension easing from shoulders.

"Thank you, Grayson," I say, genuinely appreciating his support. "I know this isn't easy. We're dealing with powerful entities here, and the thought of loosening our control is frightening." I lock eyes with Elena, who still looks particularly worried. "I get it. The fear of retaliation if we slip up, if they break free…it's a valid concern."

I take a deep breath, choosing my next words carefully. "But think about it. If you were in their shoes, treated the way we've been treating them, wouldn't you want to unleash hell? By improving their conditions, we're not just being humane – we're potentially defusing a powder keg."

I can see the realization dawning on some faces. Good. They're starting to understand.

"Our security measures will adapt," I continue. "We'll be vigilant but not cruel. It's a delicate balance, but I believe it's one we can achieve."

I take a deep breath, surveying the room. There's still tension, but I can see a glimmer of understanding in some eyes. It's time to put these changes into action.

"Alright, let's get to work," I announce, my voice firm and decisive. "Elena, I want you to oversee the improvements to the living quarters. Start with the basics – better bedding, proper sanitation, maybe even some books or simple entertainment. Make it livable, not just survivable."

Elena nods. "I'll draw up plans immediately, sir. We should be able to implement the changes within 48 hours."

"Good," I respond. "I'd like you to begin with the Blackwood quarters. She's currently in the medical bay. See to it that things have changed by the time she returns."

"Of course, sir." Elena's tone is brisk. Heath's eyebrows rise just a little.

I disregard him, turning to Viktor. "Viktor, you're in charge of adjusting our security protocols. We need to maintain control while allowing for more freedom of movement. I trust you can handle it."

Viktor's face is a mask of concentration. "Understood, Lord Daire. I'll review our current measures and propose new strategies by tomorrow morning."

I nod, appreciating his efficiency. "Perfect. Start by reviewing the external dampening fields. If they have access to the outdoors, we need to be sure they can't draw upon their powers there."

"Certainly. I'll have those ready by the dawn switch over," he says, referring to the time of day when the vampire forces within the facility hand over to the human contingent.

Finally, I turn to Dmitri. His eyes meet mine, a hint of challenge in them. I know that I would do well to remember that he is probably Lucien's most loyal member of the team working here. It's not the only reason I dislike him. There's something…unpleasant about the man that I can't put my finger on.

"Dmitri, you'll be revising the blood extraction schedule. Every second day, as I said. And I want a full medical assessment before each extraction. If anyone shows signs of weakness or illness, they're to be given time to recover. No exceptions."

Dmitri's jaw clenches, but he nods curtly. "As you wish, sir. I'll have the new schedule ready by this evening."

"Excellent." I look around at the others. "Now, if anyone has any additional suggestions, I'd be happy to—"

"I think you're making a mistake," Heath interrupts me.

I raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

"You have no idea what you're dealing with here, Daire." His expression is insolent. "There is power in this place, the likes of which you cannot comprehend."

"And you would know this because…many of these people were once associates of yours? Friends? People you grew up with?"

Elena draws in a sharp breath. Heath looks like his head might explode.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," he mutters.

I watch Heath storm out of the room, his anger heavy in the air he leaves behind. The door slams shut, the sound echoing through the suddenly silent space. I can't help but feel a mixture of satisfaction and unease at his dramatic exit.

"Well," I say, turning back to the remaining team members, "I think that concludes our meeting for now."

As the others file out, murmuring among themselves, I remain rooted in place, my mind racing. Heath's departure is troubling, to say the least. His blatant disregard for the well-being of his own kind has always struck me as odd, but now it seems downright sinister.

As I exit the operations room, I go over the night's events yet again. The changes I've implemented feel right, necessary even, but a nagging unease tugs at the edges of my mind. I've rocked the boat, and in our world, that rarely goes unpunished.

The satisfaction of standing up for what's right mingles with a growing sense of trepidation. Lucien may have agreed to my demands, but I doubt he'd expect me to implement them so suddenly or so extensively. He won't take kindly to these sweeping alterations, and I've no doubt he'll hear about them soon enough. Heath's dramatic exit all but guarantees it.

Typical, Daire. Always making shit for yourself.

Then my thoughts drift to Mia, lying in the medical bay. The image of her pale, unconscious form on the cold tile floor flashes through my mind, igniting a surge of protective anger. I need to see her, to ensure she's recovering, to…

I pause, caught off guard by the intensity of my concern. This goes beyond mere duty or guilt. There's something about her that's gotten under my skin, and I'm not sure how to handle it.

Like a job, dammit. You handle it like it's just another job.

As I continue toward my quarters, a troubling thought takes root. How deep does this operation really go? Heath's cryptic words about power beyond my comprehension echo in my mind. Who else might be involved? What are we truly dealing with here?

There's something fishy about this whole fucking mess.