Page 114 of Tainted Souls
I sink to the floor, my back against the wall, and stare at my hands. Hanae’s vitae has dried to a flaky crust, dark against my skin. I scrub at it frantically, but it clings stubbornly to the creases of my palms and the beds of my nails.
What have I done? In my desperation to escape, I have only ensured my imprisonment. Worse, I’ve crossed a line I never thought I would, embraced the very part of myself I’ve spent a lifetime rejecting.
This wasn’t the first time I killed a vampire, but it was the first time I’d done it with my bare hands. The first time I’d done it in front of people who cared about them. Who cried for them. Who fought for them. They looked at me like I was the monster. And maybe this time… they were right.
I wasn’t surviving. I was surrendering to the darkest parts of myself. I try to find ways to justify it, telling myself that I was held here against my will. That they don’t, and probably neverwill, understand what it’s like to always be running. To chase some distant idea of salvation, never knowing if it even exists. That they themselves have killed. But none of it makes me feel better.
It doesn’t change the blood onmyhands.
My shoulders tremble, a salty taste finding my tongue. Tears stream down my cheeks, as if they’d been waiting, but no sound escapes me.
Hours pass, or maybe days. It’s impossible to tell in the windowless cell. Thirst claws at my throat, hunger gnaws at my belly, but no one comes. No food, no water, no blood—just as Ace promised.
Eventually, exhaustion claims me. I drift into uneasy sleep, haunted by dreams of hearts torn from chests and the stains I can’t wash away.
I wake to the sound of the cell door opening. Blinking against the sudden light, I shield my eyes with my arm and push myself up from the cold floor, my legs trembling beneath me.
How long has it been? My mouth feels like sandpaper, my stomach a hollow pit.
Saul stands there silently, his jaw tight, dim light from the corridor casting harsh shadows across his face. In one hand is a glass of water, in the other a napkin-wrapped bundle, clutched like contraband.
He glances over his shoulder before slipping inside, pulling the door nearly closed behind him. He hands me the glass ofwater before tossing the bundle onto the cot and crossing his arms.
I drink greedily. It is lukewarm and scratches down my dry throat, but I keep going until there’s no more.
“Eat,” he says, voice clipped. “Quickly.”
I heed the command, unwrapping the napkin with shaking fingers. Inside lies a pitiful collection: half a bread roll, slightly stale; a few bites of cold chicken; a wedge of cheese with teeth marks along one edge. His leftovers, smuggled from his own plate.
Pride tells me to refuse, to throw it back in his face. Survival tells me to devour every crumb.
Survival wins.
I tear into the bread first, barely chewing before swallowing. The chicken follows, then the cheese. It’s gone in seconds, enough to take the edge off, but nowhere near enough to satisfy.
“Thank you,” I whisper, hating the gratitude that slips out.
Saul says nothing, just watches me lick the last crumbs pathetically from my fingers.
“How long have I been down here?” I ask.
“Three days.”
The words land like heavy brick. Three days without food or water. For a full vampire, it would be uncomfortable but manageable. For a dhampir like me, with my half-human needs, it’s dangerously close to torture.
“They’re going to let me starve.” It’s not a question.
Saul sighs, finally moving to sit beside me. The metal frame creaks beneath our combined weight. “You ripped out Hanae’s heart,” he says flatly. “What did you expect?”
My stomach turns, threatening to reject the meager meal I just consumed as I recall the fresh flesh beneath my fingers, the wet heat of her vitae, and the look of shock on her face as she fell.
“I didn’t—” I swallow hard. “I didn’t mean to kill her. I just wanted to get away.”
“And that makes it better?” His voice rises slightly before he catches himself, lowering it again. “Hanae was one of us. She was family.”
“She was a vampire,” I counter weakly, but what I really meant to say was thatwe are family.
“So are you!” The words explode from him, a harsh whisper that feels like a shout in the confines of the cell. “So am I. When are you going to accept that?”
