Page 11 of Blood Freed

“What I had to.” I meet his gaze steadily, even as the Maker’s Bond twists inside me like a knife. The pain of defying him earlier still lingers in my bones.

Maxwell paces the small cell, his movements carrying that fluid grace that first drew me to him during the Renaissance. “You’ve put us both in an impossible position.” He stops, turning to face me. “The witch—”

“Mia,” I interrupt. “Her name is Mia.”

A flash of something crosses his face – frustration? Fear? But it’s gone before I can be sure. The Maker’s Bond pulses between us, that ancient connection that has defined our relationship for centuries. I feel his internal struggle through it, though I don’t understand the source.

“Lucien will be here soon,” Maxwell says, his voice strained. “He’s heading the investigation.”

My stomach drops. Of course he is. The bastard probably orchestrated this whole thing. Throwing me under the bus would suit him perfectly. But there’s something else in Maxwell’s tone, something that makes me study him more carefully. The Bond thrums with tension, and I catch a glimpse of raw anguish in his eyes before he looks away.

“You know something,” I say quietly. “About all of this. About Lucien.”

Maxwell’s shoulders tense. The Bond constricts painfully between us, and I have to bite back a gasp. He takes a step toward me, then stops, his hands clenching at his sides.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and the genuine regret in his voice chills me more than any threat could.

The temperature in the cell seems to drop as Lucien’s presence fills the doorway. His tailored suit and perfect composure stand in stark contrast to the confines of my prison. Maxwell’s demeanor shifts instantly – I catch the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the way his hands clench once before relaxing.

“Soren.” Lucien’s voice drips with false sympathy. “What an unfortunate situation you’ve found yourself in.”

I say nothing, watching the careful way he moves into the cell. Like a predator, though he’s trying to hide it beneath a veneer of concern.

“The Assembly is quite disturbed by these developments,” Lucien continues, his dark eyes gleaming. “A respected vampire, holding a witch captive for months, then staging an elaborate escape? It raises…questions.”

“Questions you’re eager to answer, I’m sure,” I reply coldly.

Lucien’s lips curve in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m merely concerned for everyone’s wellbeing. The witch’s safety, for instance. Such a delicate situation requires…careful handling.”

I feel Maxwell tense beside me at the subtle threat.

“The Assembly will want assurances,” Lucien adds smoothly, his gaze sliding to Maxwell. “Testimonies from respected elders about your character, your stability. Your maker’s support will be…crucial.”

Maxwell’s face is carefully blank, but I feel his turmoil, his fear. What does Lucien have over him?

“Of course,” Maxwell says quietly, “I will cooperate fully with the investigation.”

Cooperate…what does that mean? I search his face, but he won’t meet my eyes. After centuries of trust and loyalty, will he really abandon me to Lucien’s machinations?

“Excellent.” Lucien clasps his hands behind his back, satisfaction radiating from every pore. “I’m sure we can resolve this…efficiently.”

“And by that, you mean you’ll be clearing me of whatever they’re planning to hold against me,” I say the words drily.

“There are serious charges.” Lucien rocks back on his heels, his arms folded across his chest. “There is only so much that we can do.”

“Aside from admitting that you were responsible for the whole thing?” I raise an eyebrow.

Lucien’s expression shifts to one of practiced confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. What exactly are you implying?”

My jaw clenches. The careful way he’s phrasing everything, the deliberate confusion – he thinks we’re being watched. Of course we are. The witches wouldn’t leave us unsupervised.

“You know exactly what I’m implying.” I lean forward despite the burning of the silver cuffs. “You’re setting me up to take the fall for everything – the abductions, the attacks, all of it.”

“These accusations are concerning.” Lucien’s voice carries just the right note of worry. “Perhaps your ordeal has affected you more deeply than we realized.”

“I won’t play your game,” I snarl. “I’ll tell them everything – about your plans, about how you’ve been engineering this whole thing—”

“Maxwell.” Lucien’s voice cuts through my words. “Perhaps you should remind your progeny of his place.”

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