Page 22 of Blood Caged

“Details, Soren,” he snaps, cutting me off. “I need details.”

I frown but comply. “She was intercepted en route to her grandmother’s house. The insider information proved accurate. She put up a significant fight, but our team was prepared. The magical suppression worked as intended.”

Maxwell nods, but his eyes are distant, as if he’s only half-listening. “And her condition now?”

“Secure. Unharmed, aside from minor injuries sustained during capture.” I pause, studying him. “Maxwell, if you’re worried about this assignment, I assure you that when I gave you my word—”

“No.” He waves a hand dismissively. “This is bigger than the witch.”

Bigger?

My mind boggles. He’s already pushed my boundaries with what he’s asked me to do. What could be worse?

We reach the door to Maxwell’s study, and he pushes it open.

Fuck!

I freeze in the doorway, my eyes locked on the figure lounging on Maxwell’s leather couch. Lucien Marlowe. What the fuck is he doing here?

Lucien rises smoothly. Our eyes meet, and I’m struck by the cold calculation in his gaze. It’s like staring into the eyes of a viper, coiled and ready to strike.

“Ah, Lord Daire,” Lucien drawls, his voice dripping with false warmth. “So good of you to join us.”

I clench my jaw, fighting to keep my expression neutral. Every instinct screams at me to be on guard.

“Marlowe,” I acknowledge curtly, inclining my head slightly. “I wasn’t aware you’d be here.”

He smiles, all teeth and no warmth. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I must thank you for taking on our latest…assignment. Your efficiency is, as always, admirable.”

My suspicions crystallize into certainty. Lucien is behind this, pulling strings I can’t even see yet. The realization sits like ice in my stomach. How deep does this go?

I glance at Maxwell, seeking some explanation, but what I see only increases my unease. My maker, usually the epitome of poise and control, looks more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him. His eyes dart between Lucien and me, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

“Well,” I say, keeping my tone carefully neutral, “I’m here now. Perhaps someone would like to explain what’s going on?”

“I don’t think that your role requires too many additional details.” Lucien’s expression is smug. “Suffice it to say that you will be serving a higher purpose.”

I bristle at Lucien’s evasive response. My patience, already thin, threatens to snap entirely.

“Higher purpose?” I repeat, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “I’d appreciate some clarity on what exactly that entails.”

Lucien’s lips curl into a smirk that makes my skin crawl. “Now, now, Lord Daire. Surely a vampire of your…standing understands the need for discretion in delicate matters.”

The condescension in his tone grates on me. I’m not some fledgling to be patronized, and certainly not by him. I’ve spent centuries building my reputation, my power. To be treated like an errand boy…

I glance at Maxwell, searching for some explanation, some reassurance. But he won’t meet my eyes. It’s clearer than ever that whatever hold Lucien has over my maker, it’s significant.

Lucien continues, his voice smooth as silk hiding a steel blade. “What we set in motion here, Soren, will change the course of history for our kind. You should be honored to play a part in it.”

“Honored?” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice. “I fail to see the honor in kidnapping and imprisonment.”

Maxwell finally speaks, his voice strained. “Soren, remember your oath. Your bond.”

I clench my jaw, feeling the weight of that ancient blood tie. It’s a reminder I don’t need – the compulsion to obey hums in my veins, an inescapable part of who I am.

Lucien’s eyes gleam with satisfaction. “Yes, your bond. Such a beautiful thing, isn’t it? The loyalty between maker and progeny. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to…strain that relationship, would you?”

The threat, veiled as it is, hangs heavy in the air. I’m caught, and Lucien knows it. Whatever game he’s playing, I’m just a pawn – and I hate every second of it.

---