Blood Freed (Vampire-Cursed #4)

9. Chapter 9

9

Chapter 9

Soren

F rustration burns through me as harshly as the silver that feels like liquid fire in my veins. I focus on the pain, using it to stay sharp as Morgan Shadowmaster paces before me. His dark eyes gleam with barely concealed satisfaction.

“Let’s begin again.” He stops, clasping his hands behind his back. “Describe your role in Mia Blackwood’s captivity.”

“I was assigned as her guard.”

“For an entire year.” Morgan’s lips curl. “That’s quite a commitment to keeping a witch prisoner.”

I meet his gaze steadily. “Yes.”

“And yet you claim to have helped her escape.” He glances at the Council representatives flanking him. “After breaking your Maker’s Bond with Maxwell Kern – a serious offense under vampire law, as I understand it.”

The mention of Maxwell sends fresh pain through my chest, different from the silver’s burn. “The circumstances were complex.”

“Indeed.” Morgan’s tone drips with false sympathy. “The Blood Assembly will be particularly interested in how you managed to override such an ancient bond. Unless, of course, Maxwell ordered you to help her escape?”

I catch the trap in his words. If Maxwell ordered it, it would implicate him. If I broke the bond, I face execution by the Assembly. “I acted according to my conscience.”

“Your conscience.” Morgan snorts. “Pity it took an entire year for it to raise its head.”

I don’t answer that. He’s right.

“So,” he continues, “you acted of your own accord through all of it?”

“I had my instructions.” I don’t elaborate.

“Instructions you received from Lucien Marlowe?” Shadowmaster’s eyes narrow. “That’s the story you spun to Mia Blackwood, isn’t it?”

The question hangs in the air. My jaw tightens at Lucien’s name, remembering his earlier visit, his smooth lies. But I keep my expression neutral.

“My role was to guard Mia Blackwood.” I stick to the simple truth, watching Morgan’s frustration build at my short answers.

“And you expect us to believe you suddenly developed feelings for her? A witch?” He sneers the word. “After centuries of loyal service to your maker?”

I pull in a slow, deep breath. “What I feel is irrelevant. I helped her escape. That’s what matters.”

“What matters is why.” Morgan leans closer, his dark eyes boring into mine. “What game are you playing, vampire? What’s your real agenda?”

I meet his gaze steadily. “No game. No agenda.”

“Everyone has an agenda.” He straightens, adjusting his jacket sleeves. “Especially ancient vampires with broken Maker’s Bonds.”

The constant mention of Maxwell grates like sandpaper on raw nerves. I wonder if Morgan knows how each reference twists the knife or if he’s just throwing everything he can at me to see what draws blood.

“Tell me about the night of the escape,” he demands. “Every detail.”

I’ve been through this a dozen times already. Each retelling feels like walking on broken glass, remembering Mia’s desperation, her trust in me, the way she looked back as she ran.

The memory of her lips on mine just hours ago makes it worse.

But I keep my voice steady. “I was guarding her. I helped her escape. Told her to run. She did.”

“That’s all?” Morgan’s voice is heavy with skepticism.

“That’s all that matters.”

He opens his mouth to press further, but I cut him off. “How many more times do you need to hear it? The story won’t change.”

“I’ll keep going until you tell the truth.” He cocks his head.

I feel my nostrils flare with annoyance but suppress the urge to lash out at him. It would do no good.

“So… You plan to continue this vendetta against Marlowe, do you?”

“Vendetta?” I raise an eyebrow.

“How else would you explain your repeated attempts to implicate him in this?”

“My repeated attempts?” I scoff. “I’ve never mentioned him.”

“No. But Mia Blackwood seems convinced of his involvement. Clearly, you manipulated her into believing this. Of course,” he continues, “the Assembly will want answers about who authorized this operation. Who gave the orders.” His dark eyes fix on me. “Who’s really responsible.”

His words confirm my suspicions. Lucien’s earlier visit, his careful denials, the way he pushed Maxwell – it’s all part of his plan. I’m to be the scapegoat, taking the fall for his entire operation. And Shadowmaster seems to have some insight into this.

“You seem well-informed about vampire politics,” I say carefully.

Morgan’s lips curve in a cold smile. “Let’s just say I have…reliable sources.”

I process this. Could it be that Shadowmaster isn’t just interrogating me? That he’s laying groundwork for Lucien’s version of events? My word against a High Elder’s, with a conveniently broken Maker’s Bond to explain my “betrayal.”

“Interesting,” I keep my voice level. “How a witch knows so much about Assembly business.”

“We all have our connections.” Morgan straightens his jacket. “Though some of us choose our allies more wisely than others.”

“And just who would your allies be, Shadowmaster?” It’s the first time I’ve addressed him so directly.

His jaw clenches. “I am here as the official representative of the High Priestess, Daire. She has chosen to step away from this matter since her objectivity might be in question. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have her full support.”

“How nice,” I say drily. “Can I assume that the High Priestess Moonshadow is related to the traitor, Heath Moonshadow?”

“Our High Priestess is above reproach,” he snaps.

“Unlike Heath,” I sneer. I turn away. “I have answered enough of your questions.”

“Vampire, I will be the one who decides when this is over,” he snarls. The burn in my wrists intensifies. He’s adding his own magic to the pain of my chains. But I don’t give a fuck anymore.

“Why don’t you get your answers from the traitor?” I ask. “I’m sure that he’ll be happy to cooperate if it gets him some leniency.” I make my way to the bunk across the room and settle into it, looking as nonchalant as possible, considering I’m practically wrapped in silver.

“This isn’t the end of this, Daire,” Shadowmaster snarls. He strides to the door, his lackeys falling in behind him. “Let’s see if your next guest can talk some sense into you.”

Guest?

I frown. Who else could possibly want to see me now?

My answer comes almost immediately as Maxwell walks into the room. I’m on my feet immediately.

“Master.”

The door closes behind Maxwell with a heavy thud. He waits until the guards’ footsteps fade before turning to me.

“You look terrible,” he says softly.

“Silver will do that.” I shift, metal links clinking. “What game are you playing, Maxwell?”

He paces the length of my cell, his hair catching the dim light. His shoulders carry tension I’ve rarely seen in our centuries together.

“The Assembly meets tomorrow at midnight.” He stops, facing the wall. “Lucien has gathered significant support.”

“So I’m to be the scapegoat.” I fight to control my voice as anger rises. “And you’re just going to let that happen?”

Maxwell turns, his gray eyes haunted. “Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good. One life to save many.”

“Don’t.” I grit my teeth. “Don’t give me those cryptic warnings again. If you know something, tell me.”

“I can’t.” His voice cracks slightly. “But know that what comes next…it’s necessary.”

“Necessary?” I surge forward despite the bonds. “Like it was necessary to keep witches captive? To let Lucien experiment on them?”

Maxwell’s face tightens. “You don’t understand the complexities—”

“Then explain them!” The chains sear my flesh as I yank against them. “You’ve been feeding me these vague hints for months. If Lucien has something on you, tell me. Let me help.”

For a moment, something flickers in Maxwell’s eyes – pain, fear, something I’ve never seen before in my maker. But then it’s gone, replaced by that same controlled mask.

“The sacrifice of one can prevent the suffering of many,” he repeats softly. “Remember that tomorrow.”

I stare at Maxwell, rage and frustration burning hot within me. “Remember that tomorrow? That’s all you have to say to me?”

“Soren—” He takes a step toward me, then stops as if hitting an invisible wall.

“After everything.” My voice comes out raw. “After centuries of loyalty, of following your lead, trusting your judgment. And now you stand there spouting riddles while Lucien frames me for his crimes?”

Maxwell’s shoulders stiffen. “You broke the Maker’s Bond.”

“To save an innocent woman from torture!” The chains rattle as I gesture sharply. “You knew what was happening in that facility. You knew what Lucien was doing to those witches.”

“There are things you don’t understand.” His voice drops lower. “Forces at work that—”

“Then make me understand!” I slam my bound hands against the wall, welcoming the searing pain. “Stop with the cryptic warnings and half-truths. If you’re going to betray me, at least have the courage to tell me why.”

Pain flashes across Maxwell’s face. For a moment, I think he might actually explain – might finally tell me what hold Lucien has over him. But then his expression hardens.

“You have twenty-four hours until the Assembly meets,” he repeats. “I suggest you consider carefully what you’ll say.”

“I’ll tell them the truth,” I snarl. “Every detail of Lucien’s operation. Every witch he captured, every experiment he ran. How long he’s known about the Bloodbane spreading through the clans.”

Maxwell goes very still. “The truth,” he says softly, “is not always what we think it is.”

“Maxwell—” I start.

“Goodbye, son.” His expression is filled with sorrow. “I am so sorry it had to be this way. Just know that your sacrifice means everything to so many.”

The door closes behind Maxwell with a final, heavy thud. I slump against the wall, letting my bonds drag me down. The physical pain is nothing compared to the betrayal burning in my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut as he walks away until it’s silent again.

“Soren…”

Through the haze of exhaustion, I feel her. Mia’s presence brushes against my mind like moonlight trying to pierce storm clouds. Her warmth, her concern, her determination to reach me floods through the cracks in my defenses.

Dammit, no!

I can’t let her back in. But maintaining the barrier while weakened takes everything I have. Each attempt she makes to connect sends shockwaves through my carefully constructed shields.

I try to focus on the pain instead of her gentle probing. But I can’t stop thinking about the danger she’s in. Lucien’s smooth threats echo in my mind. He’ll use her against me if he can, just like he’s using Maxwell.

My concentration slips for just a moment. In that brief weakness, Mia’s emotions crash through – worry, fear, fierce protectiveness.

“Soren ,” her voice whispers in my mind again, “ let me help you .”

“Goddammit!” I growl as I push to my feet. The temptation to respond, to let her in, nearly overwhelms me. But the memory of my previous lover’s fate rises like a specter. I can’t let that happen to Mia. Won’t let my selfishness put her in Lucien’s crosshairs.

Gritting my teeth against the pain – both physical and emotional – I strengthen my mental barriers. Build them higher, thicker, until her presence fades to a distant warmth. Each brick in the wall feels like another betrayal, but I keep going until I can barely sense her at all.

My dark thoughts are interrupted as I catch voices from outside. The guards are speaking, and I catch fragments of their conversation. Their voices drift through the door, their casual tone at odds with their grim discussion.

“…Blood Assembly’s pushing hard for jurisdiction.” The first voice is gruff, tired. “Want to make an example of him breaking the Maker’s Bond.”

“Coven’s got equal claim.” The second guard sounds younger. “He kept one of our own kind captive for a year.”

“Yeah, but did you see how she defended him? Maybe there’s something to his story—”

“Shut it, Glade. Don’t go soft now. Remember what Morgan said – classic manipulation. Besides, someone’s got to pay for all those missing witches.”

A dry chuckle. “True enough. Though from what I hear, both sides are so eager to execute him, they might have to draw straws.”

My lips twist in a bitter smile. At least this solves one problem – I won’t have to keep pushing Mia away for long. I’ll be gone soon. The thought brings a strange mix of relief and regret.

“Heard the Assembly’s calling for his head on a silver platter. Literally silver.” The younger guard sounds almost impressed. “Breaking a Maker’s Bond’s about the worst crime a vampire can commit.”

“Witches can do worse than silver,” the other guard counters. “High Priestess might want to make a statement of her own.”

I lean my head back against the cold wall. They’re right – someone has to pay. Might as well be me. Better than letting Lucien’s schemes continue unchecked. Better than risking Mia’s safety any longer.

The silver burns steadily against my skin, a constant reminder of how little time I have left. Twenty-four hours until the Assembly meets. Perhaps less if the Coven Conclave claims precedence.

I wonder which of them will win the right to kill me.