Page 77 of Blood Bound

I lean back against the wall again, exhausted but determined. I’ll keep trying, keep reaching out. It’s all I can do now.

Seconds tick by, dragging into minutes that feel like forever. It’s possible that I doze off for a while because my head is lolling when the sound of voices has my eyes snapping open.

I strain my ears, trying to make out the muffled voices in the hallway. My heart nearly stops when I recognize Heath’s urgent tone.

“We need to move quickly,” he says. “The deadline’s tonight.”

Another voice responds, too low for me to catch.

Heath’s reply freezes me. “I know she’s important, but we can’t risk exposure. We may have to get rid of her.”

“He’ll be furious,” the other person hisses. “We need her.”

“And if the covens learn I’m connected to this? My entire operation will be compromised,” Heath snaps. “I’ve spent too long creating this cover, doing this work. If it comes down to it…I’ll do what’s necessary.”

My mind reels. Heath, my mentor, the man I’ve known for years – my freaking childhood crush, for God’s sake – is talking about killing me. The betrayal cuts deep, leaving me hollow.

“Tonight,” Heath emphasizes. “One way or another, this ends tonight.”

I strain to hear more, but the voices fade as Heath and his companion move away. My mind races, trying to piece together the fragments of information I’ve gathered.

Why am I so important? It can’t just be about luring Darick. There’s something more, something bigger at play.

I think back to the strange symbols etched into the walls, the mix of ancient and modern technology surrounding me. This isn’t just some makeshift vampire hideout. It’s a facility with a purpose.

And then there’s Heath’s involvement. He’s no ordinary witch – he’s part of the Moonshadow family, one of the most powerful and respected covens. For him to risk everything…

Pieces start to click into place. The blood. The prophecies Gran hinted at. My connection to Darick.

“Oh, shit,” I whisper. I’m not just bait. I’m a key component in whatever twisted plan they’ve concocted. My blood, my bond with Darick – it’s all part of something bigger. But what? What could be so important that it would drive Heath to betray everything he stands for?

I close my eyes, trying to focus. There has to be more I’m missing. I think back to every conversation, every odd occurrence over the past weeks. The attack on the Starlight Vigil. Lucien’s cryptic comments about family history repeating itself.

It’s like a puzzle with half the pieces missing, but I can sense the shape of it now. Whatever they’re planning, it’s going to change everything – for witches, for vampires, maybe for the whole damn world.

And somehow, I’m right in the center of it all.

Unless you die tonight.

The silence is suffocating now. Panic wraps its claws around my throat. I have to get out of here. Now. I close my eyes, desperately reaching for that faint warmth of my connection to Darick.

“Please,” I whisper. “I need you. They’re going to kill me.”

As I focus, I feel a flicker of response. It’s weak, but it’s there. I cling to it like a lifeline, pouring every ounce of desperation into our bond.

“Darick,” I plead silently. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please find me. I can’t die here.”

The connection pulses, stronger this time. I feel a surge of determination that isn’t my own. He’s coming. Somehow, I know it with certainty.

Now, I just have to stay alive long enough for him to get here. I look around frantically, trying to figure out if there’s something I could use to defend myself if they come back here. I may not have magic, but for the first time, that doesn’t bother me – I spent a lifetime figuring out how to live without it. I’m resourceful. And right now, I have grim determination on my side.

I keep scanning the cell, desperation fueling my search. The stone walls are damp and unyielding, offering no obvious escape routes. My fingers trace along the edges, seeking any loose stones or hidden crevices.

“Come on, there’s gotta be something,” I mutter, peering around to examine the floor.

Moving cautiously to avoid drawing attention in case there’s someone watching the cameras, I run my fingers over the floor. My hand brushes against something metallic. I squint in the darkness, making out the shape of a bent nail partially embedded in the ground. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. I work it free, clutching it tightly.

“Hey,” I whisper to my cellmate. “Are you still there?”

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