Page 59 of Tainted Souls
I beg to differ, but instead I say, “I know the laws.” Taking a deep breath, I wince as the movement pulls at my partially-healed wound.
She fixes me with an unwavering stare. “Then, why did you do it?”
“Maxim was struggling with the transition and needed space, away from the hospital environment. So, I took him somewhere safe, somewhere he could adjust without feeling like a lab rat.” I slide the tablet back to her. There’s nothing on it that I don’t already know. “It would’ve been fine if not for the sire bond.”
This is kind of our dynamic lately. I’m called in for an interrogation, then I reveal a new piece of useful information about our enemies to distract them from my misdemeanor.
As expected, this catches her attention. “Explain.”
I recount what happened in the cave: Max’s sudden loss of control over his actions, the mechanical way he moved, and his complete lack of response to my pleas. “Someone got in his head,” I conclude.
The chief exchanges a sidelong glance with the general, who’s been standing silently in the corner of the room. “We’ve suspected something like this,” she says. The other victims have been exhibiting similar behavior patterns. There are times when they keep trying to escape, their eyes peeled for something—or someone.” There’s a deliberate pause before she looks up, straight into my eyes. “You.”
“It seems their sire controls them somehow,” I say in agreement. “That’s what the turnings were about. Cain is building himself an army of puppets. Sire bonds are real.”
The statement hangs heavy in the air, weighted by a terrifying reality: if sire bonds are real, why have they never been witnessed before? And if they are at play, what influence doesshe hold over Max and the others? And why me? What could Cain possibly want with a dhampir who has spent her entire life away from the vampire world?
General Lee steps forward, placing a small device on the table. “The tracker in your arm is still functional, despite temporarily going offline during your little field trip.”
“You want me to keep it,” I deduce, his insinuation clear, “in case they come for me again.”
His expression remains neutral, but I can see the calculation behind his eyes. “Yes. It puts us one step ahead. Tracking you means tracking them, too.”
I consider my options. The tracker makes me vulnerable, exposed, but it also connects me to potential allies if things go south again. And south they will go. I have no delusions about that.
“Fine,” I concede, “but I want something in return.”
The chief looks up, not toward anything in particular. It looks more like a suppressed eye roll than anything else. “What is it?”
“Exemption. I’ll pay the fine, just leave it at that.”
She cocks her head to the side, looking to General Lee for any sort of input. Their faces are stern, tired, but so is mine. I look at him too, managing a subtle pout. He studies me for a long moment before giving a curt nod.
“Granted,” she says, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose, knowing it ends like this more often than it should. “But no more unauthorized excursions, and youwillreport any unusual signs or behaviors immediately.”
I push myself up from the chair. “I can work with that.”
The chief does the same, meeting me at eye level. “I mean it.” Her expression is even more severe than it was before, notably fed up with my infringements. “It’s not just about you anymore.”
Her words are received with their intended purpose, and I offer her a solemn nod. She’s right.
“One more thing,” the general says, moving to stand in front of the exit. “We are establishing a special task force to investigate these sire bonds. Captain Ventura will be leading it.”
There’s a flutter in my stomach. “Lexa?”
“She requested the assignment,” he clarifies, watching my reaction carefully. “Report to her on Monday at eight in the morning. You’ve been assigned to her unit until further notice.”
This surprises me. “I don’t work for Redmoore anymore.”
“Consider it a consultant position,” Chief Penn interjects. “Your exemption depends on it.”
I scoff, knowing they’ve learned to run the same game in reverse. “Alright.”
The general opens the door, prompting me to leave.
The station’s bright lights make my head pound as I navigate toward the exit, each step requiring more concentration than it should.
My body is demanding nourishment to heal properly—the vampire part of me craves blood with an intensity that’s hard to ignore, while the human part of me just wants to collapse into bed.
