Page 83 of Tainted Souls
Cain chuckles, the sound echoing off the metal tanks. “That’s not quite enough, darling. I’m going to need insurance against your rebellious nature.” He gestures to one of his vampires, who drags forward a struggling Rhodes. “Perhaps a demonstration is in order.”
Before I can react, Cain nods, and the vampire sinks his fangs into Rhodes’s neck. She screams, thrashing as vesia enters her bloodstream, beginning the transition process.
“Stop!” I cry out, horrified. But it’s already too late.
“But I’m just getting started,” Cain croons, like a lover making a promise. He swings his arm back in front of him while releasing Lexa, who crumples to the rooftop floor, gasping. “Bring the other.”
“No!” Lexa shouts in my stead, both our eyes watering as Wei is forced forward.
He screams, equally terrified and in pain, as a pair of fangs pierce his neck, our cries mingling in a horrific chorus. Lexa pushes herself to her knees, her eyes blazing with hatred as she glares at Cain.
“You monster,” she spits, blood bubbling at her lips.
Cain regards her with mild interest. “Monster? I prefer visionary.” He crouches beside her, lifting her chin with one finger. “You’ll make a fine addition to my collection, Captain.”
“Please,” I beg, desperation clawing at my throat. “Don’t turn her. I’ll do whatever you want.”
Cain’s eyes shift to me then, a predatory gleam in their bottomless depths. “Anything?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “Let her go, and I’m yours.”
Lexa shakes her head frantically. “Seraph, don’t—”
“Silence,” Cain snaps, then returns his attention to me. “No dirty tricks? No resistance?”
I swallow hard, then take another step forward, my hands raised in surrender. “I won’t fight you. I won’t try to escape. Just let Lexa and the others go.”
Cain studies me, his head tilted slightly. “Your loyalty is admirable, if misplaced.” He beckons me closer. “Come here, dhampir.”
I approach slowly, every instinct screaming at me to run. But I can’t abandon Lexa and the others to this fate. Not when I can save them.
Once I’m within arm’s reach, Cain strikes with blinding speed. His hand closes around my throat, lifting me as he had Lexa. Pain explodes through my neck as he squeezes, making me wheeze just enough to demonstrate his terrifying power.
“I accept your offer,” he says, his face inches from mine. “Captain Ventura and her surviving team may go free. But you, my dear, belong to me now.”
He releases me, and I drop to my knees, coughing. “How do I know you’ll keep your word?” I rasp.
“You don’t.” He smiles coldly. “But what choice do you have?”
From the floor, Lexa lunges suddenly, a hidden blade flashing in her hand as she aims for Cain’s heart. He sidesteps effortlessly, catching her wrist and twisting until bones snap. She cries out, the knife clattering to the ground.
My protest is cut short as something hard connects with the back of my head. Stars explode across my vision, then darkness rushes in.
The last thing I hear is Lexa screaming my name.
CHAPTER 17
THE GROUNDBENEATHMEis cold and damp when I wake, rough stone pressing against my cheek. My head feels like it’s been split open, each heartbeat sending fresh waves of pain through my temples that make even opening my eyes an effort. When I manage it, near darkness greets me. I push myself into a sitting position, wincing as pain lances through my skull.
The room spins before settling into focus. I blink slowly, trying to make sense of my surroundings through the haze of disorientation.
The chamber is dimly lit by torches mounted on rock walls, their flames casting long, dancing shadows across the vaulted ceiling. Water drips somewhere in the distance, each drop echoing in the cavernous space. Judging by the musty smell of earth and the complete absence of natural light, I’m underground—deep underground.
Memory returns in jagged fragments. The ambush. Keller’s death. Rhodes being turned, followed by Wei. Lexa’s scream.
I try to move, only to find my wrists bound behind my back with what feels like metal shackles. They’re tight enough to bruise but not enough to cut off circulation, rattling against the floor as I shift in search of anything I can use.
The torches are mounted too high to reach, even if I could stand. My weapons are gone, not just the ones I surrendered on the rooftop, but the hidden blades and picks I keep concealed in my clothing.
