18. Chapter 18

18

Chapter 18

Soren

I 'm halfway through reviewing the latest security reports when my phone buzzes. Maxwell's name flashes on the screen. I answer immediately.

"Soren, I need to see you. Now." Maxwell's voice crackles with tension.

"Of course," I respond without hesitation. "I'll be there shortly."

As I prepare to leave, I can't shake the uneasy feeling settling in my gut. It's been two weeks since I implemented the changes at the facility, and things have fallen into an almost comfortable rhythm. Too comfortable, perhaps. I need to stay vigilant.

I grab my jacket, my mind drifting to Mia. I've been careful to treat her with respect, but I keep catching myself slipping into behavior that's almost…friendly. It's a problem. And entirely out of character for me.

I've never been approachable. Aloof, cold, efficient – these are the traits that have served me well over the centuries. But something about Mia keeps chipping away at my carefully constructed walls.

As I head out, I remind myself of the stakes involved. Whatever Maxwell wants, I can't afford to let my guard down. Not with Mia, not with anyone.

As I approach the grand entrance to Maxwell's estate, memories of countless visits over the centuries flood my mind. This place has been a sanctuary, a home away from home. But today, an undercurrent of unease taints it. It's been like that since Lucien Marlowe came into the picture.

The heavy oak door swings open, revealing Maxwell's human servant. "Lord Daire," he intones, bowing slightly. "Master Kern is expecting you in the study."

I nod curtly and stride past him. As I near the study, voices drift through the partially open door. One is unmistakably Maxwell's, but the other… My jaw clenches as I recognize the smug tones.

Fucking Moonshadow.

I pause, taking a moment to compose myself. Whatever game is being played here, I refuse to show my hand too early.

Pushing the door open, I step inside. Maxwell looks up from behind his massive mahogany desk, his silver eyes unreadable. And there, lounging in one of the leather armchairs as if he belongs, is Heath.

What the fuck is he doing here?

The witch's lips curl into a sly smile. "Ah, Soren. How kind of you to join us."

I ignore him, focusing on Maxwell. "You wanted to see me?"

Maxwell nods, gesturing to the empty chair beside Heath. "Have a seat, Soren. We have much to discuss."

I take a deep breath, steeling myself as I settle into the chair. Maxwell's gaze is unflinching, and I can feel Heath's smug satisfaction radiating from beside me. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence.

"I'd like a report on your work at the facility," Maxwell says. "I believe you've made some changes."

I nod. "I've implemented several upgrades to some of the protocols," I begin, my voice steady. "We've improved living conditions for the witches and adjusted the blood extraction schedule. Despite these modifications, I'm pleased to report that our blood quotas have remained consistent."

I continue, detailing the specifics of our new protocols. "The witches are now allowed supervised time outdoors, which has had a positive impact on their overall health. This, in turn, has improved the quality of the blood we're harvesting."

As I speak, I can see Maxwell's expression shifting, a mix of surprise and curiosity. But before he can respond, Heath's voice cuts in.

"With all due respect," he sneers, "I've observed quite a different situation."

I clench my jaw, turning to face him. "Is that so?"

Heath leans forward, his eyes glinting with malice. "Indeed. While Soren here paints a rosy picture, the reality is far different. The witches are growing complacent, even rebellious. This…coddling…is making them soft, reducing the potency of their blood."

"That's absurd," I snap, my carefully maintained composure slipping. "The data clearly shows—"

"Data can be manipulated," Heath interrupts. "I've seen it with my own eyes. The witches are regaining their strength, and it's only a matter of time before they attempt an escape."

"That's bullshit," I say, my voice low and controlled. "The changes we've implemented have improved efficiency and sustainability. Treating the witches with a modicum of respect doesn't equate to weakness."

Heath scoffs. "You don't know how these people think, vampire."

I aim an icy stare at him. "And you do. Because you're one of them…witch."

His eyes narrow. "I operate on an entirely different level."

"Oh, I can believe that. A level several rungs below pond scum."

Heath's breath hisses sharply. He turns to Maxwell. "I knew this would be a fuck-up. When Lucien told me you were bringing Daire into the picture, I warned him that it would be a problem. And it has already begun. You can't keep your dog on his leash."

Maxwell steeples his fingers and surveys me coolly. "Should I be worrying about your commitment, Soren?" he asks.

I feel myself bristle. "Maxwell, I've given everything to this operation. I left my home, abandoned personal obligations, all at your request. I've done everything you asked."

"True." He nods. "But you had little choice."

He doesn't need to remind me. I feel the pressure of the maker's bond every waking moment. It's almost become a part of me now.

"All the more reason to trust me," I say. "The maker's bond is simple to understand. Unlike whatever agenda drives this…creature." I flick a hand in Heath's direction.

"How dare—?" Heath begins, but Maxwell cuts him off.

"Let him speak," he tells him.

I lean forward. "The changes I've implemented are solely for the efficiency of our operation. Treating the witches like cattle was unsustainable. The facility had been losing them before I got there." I pause to let the weight of that sink in. "Lucien's solution was to go out and abduct more. That's dangerous to our kind."

Because our laws forbid it…and vampire attacks bring the wrong kind of attention. And it's wrong on every level. Fuck, I hate being part of this.

"You think you have a solution." Maxwell looks at me.

"It's not a solution, but it reduces the risks. This new approach ensures a steady supply without compromising goals."

Heath scoffs, but I ignore him, focusing on Maxwell. "I assure you, this isn't about sympathy. It's about long-term strategy."

"Strategy?" Heath interjects. "You're playing right into their hands, vampire. These aren't helpless humans you're dealing with."

I turn to face him, my patience wearing thin. "No, they're not human, but there's no discernible difference between them and ordinary people. Mainstream human culture hasn't embraced the existence of witches. If we're caught abducting them, the humans are going to think that vampires are targeting their kind."

Heath shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Are you really that dense, Moonshadow?" I force my temper down. "We've spent decades integrating into the human world. We can't jeopardize that for…for…" I search for words. "For whatever the fuck Lucien is doing here." I look at Maxwell as I say it, but he doesn't take the opportunity to enlighten me. I'm guessing he won't, if he can help it.

"And how are things with the Blackwood woman?" Maxwell changes the subject.

"She has been…cooperative," I say carefully. "She's responded well to the new protocols. There have been no incidents of rebellion since we implemented the changes."

Heath scoffs, leaning forward in his chair. "You can't be serious. A ruse, that's all this is. She's evil."

I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to snap at him. At no point have I seen even a hint of evil in the woman. Unlike this asshole beside me.

"The Blackwood bloodline is one of the most powerful in existence," Heath continues. "She's not cooperating, she's plotting. Mark my words, she's finding ways to escape as we speak. And when she does, she'll destroy everyone in her path."

I feel a surge of anger at his words. The image of Mia, her emerald eyes flashing with defiance even as she submits to the blood draws, flits through my mind. I can imagine her unleashing the kind of destruction Heath is suggesting. But is she bad? No. She's simply defending herself. Who wouldn't?

But I can't voice these thoughts. Not here, not now. They're already questioning my loyalty.

"I assure you," I say instead, "that the facility's security measures are more than adequate to contain any witch, regardless of their bloodline."

Maxwell looks between us, his expression unreadable. "I trust you're keeping a close eye on her, Soren?"

"Of course." I nod, meeting his gaze steadily. "She's under constant surveillance. I oversee it myself."

"Surprise, surprise." Heath snorts.

"What are you implying?" I growl.

"Well, I wouldn't be exaggerating if I said she was easy on the eye."

"That's irrelevant. She is my primary responsibility regardless of what she looks like, Moonshadow," I snap back. "Say what you like, but my maker has given me a task, and I will do it to the best of my abilities."

"Or maybe you want to ‘ do her' to the best of your abilities, huh?" He smirks.

I feel my fingers curling into fists. "Where are you going with this, witch? Because I've had just about all I can take from you."

"Gentlemen," Maxwell interrupts, "Let's stick to the topic, please."

"That's precisely what I'm doing," Heath says. "And it looks to me like Lord Daire is letting his emotions impact his decision-making."

"That's bullshit." I'm really losing my patience. "And none of this has anything to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me," he cuts back. "I have to report back on these changes, and I can assure you that people are not going to be happy to learn that witches are wandering around freely."

I try not to roll my eyes. "They're hardly wandering freely. They go out for an hour a day, under the supervision of a guard, into areas that have high-level security systems. We bumped up the magic dampeners for this purpose."

"Well, my people—"

"Exactly what people are you talking about, Moonshadow?" I frown at him.

"You don't need to know."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" I stand abruptly. "I am getting sick of being kept in the dark." I turn my attention to my maker. "Maxwell, if you have nothing further to add, I'll be leaving."

He heaves out a breath, shooting a look at Heat before looking back at me. "You may go."

I give a curt nod, turn on my heel, and stalk to the door without another word to Heath Moonshadow.

But even as I leave, I feel a nagging thought in the back of my mind. Maxwell may have given me permission to go, but he looked at Heath as if to confirm it.

Exactly who is pulling the puppet strings around here?