Blood Freed (Vampire-Cursed #4)

4. Chapter 4

4

Chapter 4

Soren

I t’s hard to tell the passage of time in this place. There are no windows – thank God – the last thing I need right now is a blast of sunlight. And the energies swirling around me make me feel like I’m hanging in some kind of limbo.

I shift my weight, feeling the sharp burn of the silver that has blistered my wrists bloody. The restraints are weakening me. Although that wouldn’t take much. I’ve been struggling to find my strength since the Maker’s Bond hit me so hard.

Mia.

The thought of her fuels my determination. She’s safe. She’s okay. That’s what matters.

I’m sitting on the hard bunk with my back against the wall when footsteps ring out in the hallway outside. The door flies open, and I stiffen.

“Maxwell!” I say sharply as my maker strides in.

The sight of my maker sends conflicting waves of relief and dread through me. Maxwell’s silver eyes are clouded with something I can’t quite read – worry? Guilt? After five centuries, I should be better at interpreting his moods.

“What have you done, Soren?” His voice is soft, almost gentle. That’s worse than anger.

“What I had to.” I meet his gaze steadily, even as the Maker’s Bond twists inside me like a knife. The pain of defying him earlier still lingers in my bones.

Maxwell paces the small cell, his movements carrying that fluid grace that first drew me to him during the Renaissance. “You’ve put us both in an impossible position.” He stops, turning to face me. “The witch—”

“Mia,” I interrupt. “Her name is Mia.”

A flash of something crosses his face – frustration? Fear? But it’s gone before I can be sure. The Maker’s Bond pulses between us, that ancient connection that has defined our relationship for centuries. I feel his internal struggle through it, though I don’t understand the source.

“Lucien will be here soon,” Maxwell says, his voice strained. “He’s heading the investigation.”

My stomach drops. Of course he is. The bastard probably orchestrated this whole thing. Throwing me under the bus would suit him perfectly. But there’s something else in Maxwell’s tone, something that makes me study him more carefully. The Bond thrums with tension, and I catch a glimpse of raw anguish in his eyes before he looks away.

“You know something,” I say quietly. “About all of this. About Lucien.”

Maxwell’s shoulders tense. The Bond constricts painfully between us, and I have to bite back a gasp. He takes a step toward me, then stops, his hands clenching at his sides.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and the genuine regret in his voice chills me more than any threat could.

The temperature in the cell seems to drop as Lucien’s presence fills the doorway. His tailored suit and perfect composure stand in stark contrast to the confines of my prison. Maxwell’s demeanor shifts instantly – I catch the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the way his hands clench once before relaxing.

“Soren.” Lucien’s voice drips with false sympathy. “What an unfortunate situation you’ve found yourself in.”

I say nothing, watching the careful way he moves into the cell. Like a predator, though he’s trying to hide it beneath a veneer of concern.

“The Assembly is quite disturbed by these developments,” Lucien continues, his dark eyes gleaming. “A respected vampire, holding a witch captive for months, then staging an elaborate escape? It raises…questions.”

“Questions you’re eager to answer, I’m sure,” I reply coldly.

Lucien’s lips curve in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m merely concerned for everyone’s wellbeing. The witch’s safety, for instance. Such a delicate situation requires…careful handling.”

I feel Maxwell tense beside me at the subtle threat.

“The Assembly will want assurances,” Lucien adds smoothly, his gaze sliding to Maxwell. “Testimonies from respected elders about your character, your stability. Your maker’s support will be…crucial.”

Maxwell’s face is carefully blank, but I feel his turmoil, his fear. What does Lucien have over him?

“Of course,” Maxwell says quietly, “I will cooperate fully with the investigation.”

Cooperate…what does that mean? I search his face, but he won’t meet my eyes. After centuries of trust and loyalty, will he really abandon me to Lucien’s machinations?

“Excellent.” Lucien clasps his hands behind his back, satisfaction radiating from every pore. “I’m sure we can resolve this…efficiently.”

“And by that, you mean you’ll be clearing me of whatever they’re planning to hold against me,” I say the words drily.

“There are serious charges.” Lucien rocks back on his heels, his arms folded across his chest. “There is only so much that we can do.”

“Aside from admitting that you were responsible for the whole thing?” I raise an eyebrow.

Lucien’s expression shifts to one of practiced confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. What exactly are you implying?”

My jaw clenches. The careful way he’s phrasing everything, the deliberate confusion – he thinks we’re being watched. Of course we are. The witches wouldn’t leave us unsupervised.

“You know exactly what I’m implying.” I lean forward despite the burning of the silver cuffs. “You’re setting me up to take the fall for everything – the abductions, the attacks, all of it.”

“These accusations are concerning.” Lucien’s voice carries just the right note of worry. “Perhaps your ordeal has affected you more deeply than we realized.”

“I won’t play your game,” I snarl. “I’ll tell them everything – about your plans, about how you’ve been engineering this whole thing—”

“Maxwell.” Lucien’s voice cuts through my words. “Perhaps you should remind your progeny of his place.”

I feel Maxwell’s internal struggle before he even moves. His face is drawn with pain as he turns to me.

“Soren,” he says firmly, “you will cease these accusations.”

The Maker’s Bond constricts like a vise around my chest. Every instinct screams at me to obey, but I fight it. “No.” My voice is sharp, harsh. I’ve never resisted him before.

Maxwell staggers slightly, the backlash of my defiance hitting him through our connection. Blood begins to trickle from his nose.

I grit my teeth against the searing pain flooding through me. My vision blurs, but I force myself to stay upright. “I won’t…let you…use me to hide…your crimes.”

The effort of resisting sends waves of agony through both Maxwell and me. I taste copper in my mouth, feel wetness on my upper lip. Still, I hold firm.

Maxwell’s face is ashen, his hands trembling as he fights to maintain the command. “Soren,” he whispers, though I’m not sure if he’s pleading with me to submit or to keep fighting.

The sight of blood trickling from Maxwell’s nose breaks my resolve. I let my resistance crumble, slumping back against the wall. The Bond’s vise-like grip eases, though the aftermath of pain still pulses through my body.

“There now.” Lucien’s satisfied tone makes my skin crawl. “I’m pleased to see you’re prepared to face your actions with dignity. Atone for what you’ve done.”

My stomach churns at his words. Because he’s right about one thing – I’m not innocent. Every day, I walked those facility corridors, knowing what was happening behind those doors. I kept the security systems running, monitored the cameras, made sure no one escaped. Even if I told myself I was protecting them from worse guards, worse treatment…I was still part of it.

“Your conscience troubles you.” Lucien’s voice softens with false sympathy. “As it should. You were deeply involved in this unfortunate business.”

“This was your doing. All of it,” I growl, but there’s less fire in it now.

“Did I force you to maintain security? To keep those witches imprisoned?” He raises an eyebrow. “No one held a stake to your heart, Soren. You made your choices.”

“I had no choice,” I begin. “The Maker’s Bond—”

“Didn’t seem to stop you when you finally decided to leave.” Lucien’s brow lifts. “You probably could have stopped it anytime you wanted to, couldn’t you?”

Fuck it, he’s right.

Sure, it nearly killed me, but couldn’t I have simply put my foot down and defied Maxwell that first day he gave me the instruction?

I close my eyes, unable to completely deny his words. The weight of my complicity settles heavy in my chest.

“I’m glad you’re beginning to see reason,” Lucien says. “It will make things…easier.”

“Easier for you to manipulate everything?” The words come out bitter.

“Easier for justice to be served.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “The Assembly will appreciate your…cooperation.”

“What about yours?” I snap. “This was your plan all along.”

“Soren…” He heaves a sigh, but not before I see his eyes shift around the room. He’s definitely worried someone is listening. “I’m not sure what you’re playing at, but trying to shift blame isn’t going to save you.”

“That’s not what I’m doing, and you know it!”

Lucien’s smile is oily. “I think we’ve said all that needs to be said on this matter.” He turns away.

The cell door closes behind Lucien with a heavy thud. His footsteps echo down the corridor, each one carrying a note of triumph that makes my fangs itch.

Maxwell stands frozen, blood still drying on his upper lip.

“I wish…” Maxwell’s voice cracks. He reaches toward me, then lets his hand fall. “There are things you don’t understand.”

“Then explain them to me.” I lean forward despite the burning silver. “What does he have over you?”

Maxwell’s eyes dart to the corners of the cell. “The truth isn’t always what we think it is.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Sometimes the darkest paths lead to the brightest ends.”

“What does that mean?” But I already know he won’t answer.

He moves to the door, pausing with his hand on the frame. “The Bloodbane isn’t what you think.” His words are so quiet I almost miss them. Then he’s gone, leaving me alone with the hum of magical wards and the weight of silver on my wrists.

I slump onto the bunk. My maker, my mentor, my father in all but DNA – he’s caught in Lucien’s web as surely as I am. But while I chose to break free, he remains tangled in whatever hold Lucien has over him.

The Maker’s Bond throbs like an open wound between us. Five centuries of trust and loyalty, and now this. No allies, no support, just me against Lucien’s carefully constructed trap.

I’m in this alone.