Blood Freed (Vampire-Cursed #4)

12. Chapter 12

12

Chapter 12

Mia

I 'm in my old room again, surrounded by the familiar lavender walls and faded posters of my childhood. My hands rest on my knees, palms up, as I try to center myself. The meditation crystals Gran left scatter soft rainbow prisms across the ceiling, but their gentle energy feels hollow, distant.

“Breathe, Mia,” Kara says from her perch by the window. “Your aura’s all over the place.”

I crack open one eye. “My aura’s fine.”

“It’s absolutely not fine,” Rowan chimes in. “It’s practically screaming in distress.”

Giving up on meditation, I grab my spell book from the nightstand. The pages fall open to a simple calming ritual – one I mastered at age twelve. But when I trace the sigil in the air, the magic fizzles and dies.

“Dammit!” I slam the book shut.

“Maybe you should rest,” Kara suggests. “You’re still recovering.”

But I can’t rest. Not while Soren… I close my eyes again, reaching for that golden thread of connection between us. For a moment, I feel the warmth of his presence, but then – nothing. That damn wall he’s built stands firm and cold.

“He’s blocking me.” My voice cracks. “Why is he blocking me?”

“He’s probably trying to protect you,” Rowan says softly.

“I don’t need protection!” The crystals rattle on my dresser. “I need him to let me help him.”

I try again, pressing against that mental barrier. It’s like hitting smooth, frozen glass – I can sense him on the other side, but he won’t let me in. The rejection stings worse than any physical pain.

Kara moves to sit beside me, her hand warm on my shoulder. “We’ll figure something out, Mia. I promise.”

But promises feel empty when I can’t even reach the one person who needs me most.

“I should have gone with,” I mutter, glancing at the time. It’s been hours since Mom and Dad went with Gran for a meeting with Seraphina. The High Priestess had been reluctant, but Gran had pulled some strings.

“You know why that would have been a bad idea,” Kara says gently.

“Because I’d lose my temper?” I scowl at her. “Because they think I’d be out of control?”

“Because you’re still not yourself, Mimi.” She touches my hand. “You won’t be much good to anyone if you collapse.”

“I’m not going to collapse, dammit. I’m fine!” To prove it, I leap to my feet, then regret it when I feel myself swaying. I guess a year of being locked up and having my blood drained every other day has taken its toll on me.

Ugh! I hate feeling like this!

I’ve spent my whole life being that girl who’s in control. Always capable. Always with a plan. In the past year, all of that has been stripped from me. I’ve never felt so out of control in my life.

“Are you alright?” Rowan looks concerned.

I pull in a breath. “Yeah. Just got up too fast. I guess you’re right. They’re better equipped to deal with this right now.”

The front door opens downstairs. My heart lurches at the sound of footsteps – too ponderous for good news. I grip the edge of my bed, bracing myself.

Mom appears first in my doorway, her face drawn and pale. Dad follows, jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle ticking. Gran comes last, and my stomach drops at the sorrow in her eyes.

“What happened?” My voice sounds thin, desperate. “What did they say?”

Gran sinks into my reading chair, suddenly looking every one of her years. “Oh, my dear…”

“Just tell me.”

“Your Soren… He confessed to the Blood Assembly,” Mom says quietly. “To everything.”

The room tilts sideways. “No. That’s not possible.”

“He claimed full responsibility,” Gran continues, each word careful and measured. “For organizing the witch abductions. For running the blood farming operation. All of it.”

“He’s lying!” I surge to my feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness. “You know he’s lying! Lucien was behind everything – Soren helped me escape!”

“Mia, honey…” Mom reaches for me, but I step back.

“No! This is wrong. He wouldn’t…” My voice breaks as understanding hits. “He’s protecting someone. Maxwell maybe, or…”

“The High Priestess said that he was very clear,” Dad says flatly. “Very detailed in his confession to the Assembly.”

I shake my head, tears burning. “Then he’s being coerced. Or threatened. Or…”

But I can feel it through our bond, even through his walls – that stubborn, noble determination. That willingness to sacrifice himself.

“Damn you, Soren,” I whisper, pressing my fist against my heart. “What are you doing?”

“You need to consider that this may be true, Mia,” Dad says carefully.

“That’s ridiculous! You don’t understand the lengths he went to get me out of there.” I pace the room, my legs shaky but my voice strong. “You saw what happened to him when he defied the Maker’s Bond.” I turn to them. “There was blood everywhere when he got me out of there! You must have seen it.”

Mom makes a pained sound, but I press on.

“And what about the security footage? There has to be footage of him helping me through those hallways.” I pause, trying to remember the route we’d taken. “There was a short period where the cameras weren’t being monitored, which is how we got out. But surely the footage was recorded?”

“Mimi, sweetheart…” Dad starts.

“No, listen to me! If Soren was really behind everything, why would he have taken all those chances? Why risk everything to get me out?”

I turn to Gran, desperate for her wisdom. “You saw him in that cell. You felt our connection. Does that feel like the bond of a captor and victim?”

But their faces show only sad acceptance. Even Gran looks resigned.

“He confessed,” Mom says softly. “In detail.”

“Because he’s protecting someone! Don’t you see? Maxwell must be forcing him through the Maker’s Bond, or Lucien is threatening him with something.” My voice rises with frustration. “How can you all just accept this? After everything I’ve told you about what really happened?”

The crystals on my dresser start vibrating with my agitation. A glass of water near my bed trembles, then cracks. Water splashes. We all ignore it.

“You’re choosing to believe a confession given under obvious duress over your own daughter’s testimony?” I stare at them in disbelief. “After everything we’ve been through as a family, how can you doubt me now?”

“We do believe you, darling. All of us.” Gran shoots a look at Dad. “But it’s not just you anymore. Now that the facility has been stripped and the other survivors rescued, more accounts are coming out. And they all point at Soren as the one who ran the place.”

Shit! Shit, shit, shit!

“Well, of course they’d say that,” I say, hating the desperation in my voice. “It’s not like he’d tell everyone that he was actually one of the good guys.”

“Was he, though?” My father’s arms are folded.

“Dad!” I half-yell. “Do we have to go through this again?”

“I think we need to remember that there’s more at stake here than the vampire, Lake,” Gran says. “There’s the blood bond, too. If it’s real, Mia is still at risk. Whatever your personal feelings may be, you’re going to have to set them aside, son.”

Dad’s nostrils flare as he exhales. “Goddammit! This is a complete fuck-up!”

I blink at him. Dad’s been cursing more than ever lately. But right now, I feel that way too.

“I need some time alone,” I say, pressing my fingertips to my temples. “Please.” I look around at them.

“I’ll bring you some tea in a bit,” Mom says, hovering in the doorway.

“Thanks.” I manage a weak smile. “I just need some space.”

“We’re here if you need us,” Kara adds, squeezing my hand before following Mom out.

Dad lingers, his face etched with worry. “Mia—”

“Please, Dad. I can’t argue anymore right now.”

Gran shepherds him out with a gentle but firm hand on his arm. “Let her rest, Lake.” She gives me a gentle look over her shoulder.

Once I’m alone, I sink onto my bed and close my eyes as I focus on our connection. That golden thread still pulses between us, even if he’s trying to block it.

“Let me in,” I whisper, pressing against his mental wall. Nothing. Just that same cold, impenetrable barrier. “Please, Soren.”

I fight against the resistance until I’m shaking with the exertion. It’s not working.

“Damn you, Soren! Don’t do this,” I whisper to the empty room. There must be something I can do. Something…

An idea forms. A bad one. One that I know I’m going to regret. Turning to my bedside table, my fingers find the small ritual blade I keep hidden in the top drawer. Gran would be horrified, but desperation claws at my chest.

Mia…this is wrong.

Blood magic is forbidden for good reason, but right now, I don’t care about rules.

The blade bites into my palm. As blood wells up, I trace the ancient symbol for “truth” in the air, letting drops fall onto my sheets. Power surges through me, dark and intoxicating. The wall in my mind splinters then shatters.

Soren’s presence floods my consciousness, shock and anger radiating through our connection.

“Mia!” His voice surges into my mind. “I already told you—”

“Why are you lying?” I push the thought at him.

His response comes sharp and cold. “It’s not a lie. I was behind everything.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want. It changes nothing.”

I grip my bleeding palm tighter, channeling more power. Through our connection, I feel Soren’s familiar presence – but it’s masked, deliberately cold and distant. Like those first days in the facility when he’d stalk past my cell, refusing to meet my eyes. But I know better now. I know the real Soren.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” I project the thought at him, even as my hand throbs from the cut.

“Go away, Mia. This doesn’t concern you anymore.”

His voice is glacial, but there’s something…a flicker beneath the surface. A flash of memory not his own – Lucien’s face, twisted with malice, speaking words I can’t quite hear. Maxwell standing rigid beside him. The sharp tang of fear – not for himself, but…

The realization hits me. “You’re trying to protect me.”

His walls slam up harder, but not before I catch another glimpse – Lucien threatening something about the Blackwood bloodline. About me.

“You’re delusional,” Soren snaps, but I feel his panic that I’ve seen too much.

My vision swims as the blood magic takes its toll. The sight of crimson dripping from my palm sends my mind reeling back to the facility – needles, tubes, the endless taking of blood. My stomach lurches.

“Mia!” For a split second, Soren’s genuine concern breaks through before he catches himself. “Stop this. Now.”

But I’ve seen enough. The connection frays as my strength gives out, and I slump back against my pillows, clutching my bleeding hand to my chest.

My head spins as I press a cloth against my palm, trying to process what I glimpsed in Soren’s mind. Lucien’s threats, Maxwell’s rigid stance, something about the Blackwood bloodline…pieces of a puzzle I can’t quite solve. But one thing’s clear – Soren’s taking the fall to protect us. To protect me.

I need proof. Real, solid evidence that Lucien was behind everything.

Darick. The thought hits me suddenly. He knows Marcus, and Marcus has been close to vampire politics. He might know something, or at least know where to look.

My mind races back to those endless days in the facility. There must have been something…maybe something I saw or heard, maybe a conversation I overheard between guards about reporting directly to Lucien. If only I could remember more details. But losing all that blood made everything so hazy.

Wait. Jemma and Sabine.

My heart quickens as I remember the two witches Soren helped escape before me. They’d be willing to tell the others he’d helped them get out of there, surely? Their testimony could help prove Soren’s innocence.

But how to find them? He’d kept that information to himself to protect them.

I push myself up from the bed, ignoring the dizziness as I walk across the room to the window, staring into the garden beyond. The blood magic has left me weak, but determination floods through me. Soren thinks he’s protecting me by confessing, by pushing me away. But he forgets – I’m a Blackwood witch. We don’t abandon the people we care about.

“If he won’t fight for himself,” I whisper, pressing my uninjured hand against the window glass, “then I’ll have to fight for both of us.”