Page 4 of Blood Freed

“So,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of authority, “you’re the vampire who took our Mia.”

I bite back a sharp retort. Arguing about semantics won’t help my situation. The chains bite deeper as I adjust my position to face them properly.

The leader’s eyes narrow slightly at my movement. The shadows in the corners of the cell seem to deepen, though thelighting hasn’t changed. Magic radiates from him in waves – not the warm, vital energy I’ve come to associate with Mia, but something cooler, more calculated.

My instincts scream at me to bare my fangs, to posture and threaten – anything to counter this show of dominance. But I force myself to remain still. One wrong move, and I might never get the chance to explain what really happened.

The tall witch steps closer, his boots silent against the earthen floor. “I’m Morgan Shadowmaster of the Coven Conclave.” His lips curve in what might be called a smile…if smiles were made of ice. “I trust the accommodations are…suitable?”

I keep my expression neutral. Five centuries of vampire politics have taught me when to hold my tongue.

“Now then,” Shadowmaster continues, “let’s discuss your time with Mia Blackwood. How long was she held at your facility?”

“I helped her esc—”

“A simple number will suffice.” His tone cuts through my response like a blade.

I clench my jaw. “Eleven months, three weeks, four days.”

He nods to the woman, who scratches notes onto a small pad. The wards pulse stronger, making my skin crawl.

“And during this time, what methods did you use to suppress her magic?”

“That’s not—”

“The methods, vampire.” The shadows around him writhe slightly.

I take a calming breath. “Standard dampening fields. Runic suppressors. Nothing that caused permanent harm.”

The stocky witch snorts. Shadowmaster’s eyes narrow fractionally.

“Were you present during the blood extractions?”

“Yes, but I was trying to—”

“A yes or no will do.” His satisfaction bleeds through his professional veneer. “Did you personally participate in these extractions?”

The silver burns deeper as I shift. “Yes.” It’s not something I’m proud of, but it was better than the alternative; Lucien’s methods were cruel.

“And did you consume her blood?”

“No!” The word comes out sharply.

Shadowmaster raises an eyebrow. “No? Not even once? That seems… unlikely.”

“I would never,” I lie because the thought of her blood makes my fangs extend. But to take it if she was unwilling?

I couldn’t.

“The truth will eventually reveal itself,” he says.

I realize with growing certainty that they’ve already decided my guilt. Every question is designed to confirm what they already believe. My role in Mia’s escape is irrelevant to them – they’re building a case for execution.

The interrogation fades as memories of our escape flood back. Mia’s face, pale but resolute in the moonlight. Her hand gripping mine as we ran through the facility’s grounds. And then those moments in the vehicle when we’d seen her rescuers driving toward us. The Maker’s Bond had consumed me.

“Come with me!” she’d said. “We can fix you. They’ll save you!”

I knew it could never happen, knew it would lead to a moment like this. But watching her run to her family’s arms, seeing her safe. That made it all worth it. The pain. The uncertainty of what I’m facing now. I’d do it all again just to see her like that.

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