25. Chapter 25

25

Chapter 25

Mia

T he fat pooled beneath the steak in front of me is beginning to congeal, and the salad on the side plate has wilted.

I don't give a damn. I don't plan to eat it. In fact, I feel like I'll never be able to eat again. Not after what happened.

I can't stop replaying it in my mind. The moment we thought we were free, the rush of cool night air on our faces. Then Heath's smug grin as he stepped out of the shadows, shattering our hopes in an instant.

Sabine's brazen glare. Jemma's quiet sobs.

And now they're gone. Because of me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the images away, but they only grow more vivid. The dark cell they threw us in. Lucien's cold eyes as he ordered Soren to "get rid of" them.

It should have been me. It was my idea.

My stomach churns. I should have been the one taken, not them. I was the ringleader, the one who pushed for this foolish escape attempt. But my cursed blood makes me too valuable to dispose of.

Anger flares hot in my chest. At Soren, for his part in this. At myself, for daring to think he might be different from the other vampires. For letting my guard down, even for a moment.

But beneath the anger is a gnawing fear. What will happen to me now? How long can I last in this hell, knowing the fate of my friends?

I prowl around Soren's quarters, my new prison, feeling like a caged animal. My fingers trail over the furnishings, and I have to resist the urge to smash everything in sight. It wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't bring Sabine and Jemma back.

God…Sabine. Her dry wit had been a lifeline in this hellhole. And Jemma's quiet strength, her unwavering hope. Gone because I dared to dream of freedom.

The guilt is a gnawing beast in my chest. I should have found a way to save them. I should have offered myself in their place. I should have…

But I didn't. And now I'm alone.

The door opens, and Soren walks in, his tall frame filling the doorway. A crisp, dark shirt stretches across his chest and shoulders, emphasizing how broad he is. I stiffen, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick to breathe.

"You haven't eaten," he says, gesturing to the untouched plate on the table.

I can't help but laugh, a bitter sound that scrapes my throat. "How do you expect me to eat after what happened?"

Soren's face remains impassive. "You need to keep up your strength," he says, his voice maddeningly calm.

"My strength?" I spit the words out. "For what? So you can drain me dry? So I can watch more of my friends die?"

He flinches at that, and I press on, fury giving me courage.

"What happened to Sabine and Jemma?" I demand, stepping closer to him. "Did you kill them yourself, or did you let someone else do your dirty work?"

Soren's jaw tightens. "Mia, I—"

"Don't," I cut him off. "Don't you dare try to explain it away. They're dead because of you. Because of all of you."

I'm trembling now, tears threatening to spill over. But I refuse to let him see me cry. "How can you stand there, so calm, knowing what you've done? Do their lives mean nothing to you?"

For a moment, Soren's mask slips. I see a weariness there that seems to go bone-deep. But then it's gone, replaced by that infuriating stoicism.

"I did what I had to do," he says quietly. "What was necessary."

"Necessary?" I echo, disbelief coloring my voice. "Murdering innocent women was necessary?"

Soren doesn't respond, his silence only fueling my anger. I want to scream, to rage, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain I'm feeling. But I know it would be useless. He's made his choice, drawn his line in the sand.

And I'm on the wrong side of it.

"Let me show you around," he changes the subject abruptly.

"Seriously?" I stick out my jaw stubbornly. "You really expect me to forget everything that happened so you can give me a tour?"

"Yes. We'll start with the sleeping quarters." He walks past me to a door leading away from the living area. He opens it and gestures inside. I don't move for a moment, then realize it's futile. I walk past him into the room. It's as spartan as the rest of the place, but the bed looks comfortable.

I walk over to it, my fingers tracing over the silk comforter. The irony of my situation isn't lost on me. From one prison to another, only this one has higher thread counts.

"You'll sleep here," Soren says, his voice cutting through my bitter musings.

I can't help the harsh laugh that escapes me. "Let me guess: you'll sleep on the couch. Or do you have a nice cozy coffin to curl up in?"

His eyes narrow slightly, but his voice remains calm. "Contrary to popular belief, we don't need much rest. And what little we do require happens during daylight hours. But this apartment was designed with vampires in mind. It's completely light-tight. I can stay up all day if I choose."

"How convenient," I mutter. "So you can keep an eye on me 24/7?"

Soren doesn't deny it. Instead, he gestures for me to follow him. "Let me show you the rest of the place."

I trail behind him as he gives me a brief tour of what he calls his "apartment." It's compact but undeniably well-appointed.

"These rooms once made up a guest suite," Soren explains. "Before the estate was…repurposed."

He's leading me into a small alcove. Despite myself, I find my curiosity piqued. It's the only part of the place that shows any sign that someone lives here. Shelves of books line one wall. I run my hand along one of them, noting titles both ancient and modern.

"Quite the collection," I murmur, wondering if this was where he kept that copy of "Sense and Sensibility" before giving it to me.

Don't think about that, Mia.

I refuse to dwell on anything that might make me think there's a shred of humanity in him.

"Feel free to borrow any that interest you," Soren offers.

I turn to face him, ready with a biting retort about the generosity of my jailer, when I realize how close he's standing. We're barely a breath apart, and I can see darker flecks in his indigo eyes. I step back hastily, my heart racing.

Soren clears his throat and moves toward the kitchenette. "There's food here if you get hungry," he says, opening a well-stocked refrigerator.

"What? No bottles of blood?" My tone is cutting.

"I moved them to the cabinet," he replies as if I just asked an actual question.

As I lean in to look inside the refrigerator, our arms brush. The contact sends an unexpected shiver through me, and I jerk away as if burned.

"I'm not much of an eater," I say quickly, withdrawing from him.

Soren nods, his expression unreadable. "The bathroom's through there," he indicates a door to our left. "You'll find everything you need."

"As long as you don't leave the seat up, I'll be happy," I mutter.

"Vampires don't use toilets, Mia."

I snap a look at him. Is he teasing me? But his expression is completely serious. "What? But then, how do you…? No. Forget I asked." I wave a hand, desperate to escape this suffocating proximity. "I think I'll take a shower," I announce, already moving toward the bathroom.

"Mia," Soren calls softly as I reach for the door handle. I pause but don't turn around. "I know this isn't ideal, but I hope you can be…comfortable here."

I bite back a bitter laugh. Comfortable? With a monster? But I'm too exhausted to argue. Without a word, I slip into the bathroom and close the door firmly behind me.

This is going to be hell.

Mia

I'm running, my heart racing so fast it feels like it's going to burst. The damp earth squelches beneath my feet as I race through the darkness. Sabine and Jemma are just ahead, their ragged breaths matching my own. We're so close to freedom, I can almost taste it.

Suddenly, a spotlight blinds me. Rough hands grab my arms, yanking me backward. I struggle, kicking and screaming, but it's no use. They've got us.

"No!" I cry out as Heath emerges from the shadows, a cruel smile twisting his face. "How could you betray your own kind?"

He doesn't answer, just nods to someone behind me. I'm forced to my knees, Sabine and Jemma beside me. Lucien appears, his eyes glowing red in the darkness.

"You thought you could escape?" he sneers. "Foolish witches."

He raises a hand, and I watch in horror as Sabine and Jemma are dragged away. "Wait! No! Please!" I beg, but my pleas fall on deaf ears.

The sound of gunshots echoes through the night. Two bodies thud to the ground.

"Your turn," Lucien hisses, reaching for me.

I bolt upright, a scream tearing from my throat. My heart races, and I'm drenched in sweat. For a moment, I can't remember where I am. Then reality crashes back – I'm in Soren's quarters, a prisoner still.

The door bursts open, and Soren rushes in. He's bare-chested, dressed in just a pair of black sweatpants that hug his lean hips.

I stare at him, my breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes are filled with concern, and for a moment, I forget he's my captor. He takes a hesitant step toward me, then another.

"Mia," he says softly, "are you alright?"

I shake my head, unable to speak. The nightmare still clings to me, the images of Sabine and Jemma's bodies hitting the ground playing on repeat in my mind.

Before I can process what's happening, Soren is beside me on the bed. His cool hand touches my shoulder, and I flinch instinctively. But then, to my surprise, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest.

"It's okay," he murmurs. "You're fine. It was just a dream."

I should push him away. I should scream at him, remind him that I'm not safe, that I'm his prisoner. But instead, I find myself melting into his embrace. His strong arms feel like a shield against the horrors of my nightmare, and I can't help but cling to him.

For a long moment, we stay like that, my face against his chest, his hand gently stroking my hair. I breathe in his scent and feel my racing heart begin to slow.

Then, as if burned, we both seem to realize what we're doing at the same moment. Soren pulls back abruptly, and I scramble away from him, pressing myself against the headboard.

Our eyes meet, and I see a whirlwind of emotions in his gaze.

"I'm sorry," Soren says, his voice rough. "I shouldn't have… I'll go."

He stands quickly, moving toward the door. But before he leaves, he pauses, looking back at me with an expression that makes my heart skip a beat.

I watch Soren's retreating back, my heart still thundering as my eyes trace the muscular lines. The nightmare lingers, shadows dancing at the edges of my vision. Panic rises in my throat.

"Wait," I call out. Soren pauses, his hand on the door. "Can you…can you stay? Just for a little while?"

He turns, surprise etched on his face. For a moment, I think he'll refuse. But then he nods, slowly walking back to sit in the chair beside the bed.

We sit in silence for a while, the air heavy between us. Finally, I speak.

"Do you ever have nightmares?" I ask, not sure why I'm even talking to him.

Soren's eyes meet mine. "Sometimes," he admits. "Though it's been a long time."

"What do vampires dream about?" The question slips out before I can stop it.

He chuckles softly. "The same things humans do, I suppose. Our fears, our regrets."

I nod, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. "I used to get them a lot when I was a kid. Gran said it was because I had ‘the sight.'"

Soren nods. "That's a very special gift," he says quietly.

"You know," I continue, "in witch culture, we have a ritual for easing nightmares. We brew a special tea with moonflowers and starlight…"

To my surprise, Soren nods again. "And you chant over it three times, widdershins, before drinking."

I stare at him, shocked. "How do you know that? That's not something we share with outsiders."

Soren looks away, his jaw clenching. "There was a time…long ago…when I learned more about witch culture than most vampires ever do."

My curiosity piques. "What do you mean? How?"

But Soren shakes his head, his expression closing off. "It's not important." He presses his lips together. "Not anymore."

The cryptic comment leaves me with more questions than answers, but I can see there's no point in pressing.

I find myself relaxing as Soren and I continue to talk. The nightmare's grip on me loosens with each passing moment.

"So, you grew up in a family of witches," Soren prompts, his voice gentle. "What was that like?"

I can't help but smile, memories of my childhood flooding back. "Chaotic, mostly. Imagine trying to have a normal family dinner when someone accidentally turns the mashed potatoes into frogs."

Soren chuckles, and the sound warms something inside me. I push the feeling away, reminding myself who he is.

"My sisters and I were always getting into magical mischief," I continue. "Kara was the golden child, of course. Every spell perfect, every potion brewed just right. And then there was me…"

I trail off, old insecurities bubbling up. To my surprise, Soren leans forward, his eyes intent on mine.

"And you?" he prompts softly.

I shrug, trying to keep my tone light. "I was the responsible one. Always following the rules, doing things by the book. I never did anything that might result in an accident."

Soren's brow furrows. "But your magic now…it's powerful. I can sense it."

I look away, uncomfortable with his perception. "Yeah, I guess. When I can access it."

There's a moment of silence, and when I look back, Soren seems lost in thought.

"What about you?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. "What was it like becoming a vampire?"

Soren's eyes darken, and for a moment, I think he won't answer. But then he speaks, his voice low.

"Painful," he says simply. "And terrifying. Imagine everything you know about yourself, about the world, being turned upside down in an instant."

I nod, surprised by his honesty. "How long ago was it?"

"Five hundred years, give or take," he replies, and I can't hide my shock. He smiles ruefully. "I know; I look good for my age."

I laugh despite myself, and Soren's smile widens. For a moment, I forget where we are, what he is. It feels almost…normal.

But then reality crashes back, and I feel a wave of self-loathing. How can I sit here, laughing with the man who's part of the system that killed my friends?

I pull back, wrapping my arms around myself. Soren seems to sense the shift in mood, his smile fading.

"I should try to get some sleep," I say, not meeting his eyes.

Soren nods, standing up. "Of course. I'll be right outside if you need anything."

As he reaches the door, I can't help but call out. "Soren?"

He turns, his eyes questioning.

"Thank you," I say softly, hating myself for meaning it. "For staying."

He nods once, then slips out, leaving me alone with my conflicted thoughts.