Page 37 of Blood Freed

The realization hits me.“You’re trying to protect me.”

His walls slam up harder, but not before I catch another glimpse – Lucien threatening something about the Blackwood bloodline. About me.

“You’re delusional,”Soren snaps, but I feel his panic that I’ve seen too much.

My vision swims as the blood magic takes its toll. The sight of crimson dripping from my palm sends my mind reeling back to the facility – needles, tubes, the endless taking of blood. My stomach lurches.

“Mia!”For a split second, Soren’s genuine concern breaks through before he catches himself.“Stop this. Now.”

But I’ve seen enough. The connection frays as my strength gives out, and I slump back against my pillows, clutching my bleeding hand to my chest.

My head spins as I press a cloth against my palm, trying to process what I glimpsed in Soren’s mind. Lucien’s threats, Maxwell’s rigid stance, something about the Blackwood bloodline…pieces of a puzzle I can’t quite solve. But one thing’s clear – Soren’s taking the fall to protect us. To protect me.

I need proof. Real, solid evidence that Lucien was behind everything.

Darick. The thought hits me suddenly. He knows Marcus, and Marcus has been close to vampire politics. He might know something, or at least know where to look.

My mind races back to those endless days in the facility. There must have been something…maybe something I saw or heard, maybe a conversation I overheard between guards about reporting directly to Lucien. If only I could remember more details. But losing all that blood made everything so hazy.

Wait. Jemma and Sabine.

My heart quickens as I remember the two witches Soren helped escape before me. They’d be willing to tell the others he’d helped them get out of there, surely? Their testimony could help prove Soren’s innocence.

But how to find them? He’d kept that information to himself to protect them.

I push myself up from the bed, ignoring the dizziness as I walk across the room to the window, staring into the garden beyond. The blood magic has left me weak, but determination floods through me. Soren thinks he’s protecting me by confessing, by pushing me away. But he forgets – I’m a Blackwood witch. We don’t abandon the people we care about.

“If he won’t fight for himself,” I whisper, pressing my uninjured hand against the window glass, “then I’ll have to fight for both of us.”

13

Chapter 13

Soren

The key in myfront door feels strange after days in that witch prison. Even stranger is how easily I was released – Lucien’s influence clearing the path with disturbing efficiency. No armed escort, no tracking spells, just a simple signing of papers and my agreement to appear at the Assembly hearing.

The apartment is just as I left it all those months ago before moving into the facility – just the faint fragrance of lemon hinting at the regular visits from the servants who keep the place clean.

It’s good to be back…

I lean against the door frame, letting the familiar scents of leather and aged wood wash over me. My study beckons – books, artifacts, the comfort of centuries collected within thesewalls. But exhaustion pulls at me like an undertow. The silver burns still ache, slower to heal than they should be.

The security detail that had dogged me from the moment I left the witch prison is conspicuously absent. Lucien’s way of showing his confidence, no doubt. Aside from the faint pulse of a containment field around the walls, there’s nothing to stop me. He knows I won’t run – not with the threats he holds over both Maxwell and Mia.

Mia…

Her presence brushes against my mind again, gentle but insistent. She’s been trying to reach me all day, each attempt more desperate than the last. The wall I’ve built between us wavers. It would be so easy to let it drop, to feel her warmth flood through our connection.

I drag myself up the stairs, fighting the urge to respond. The silver may have weakened my body, but maintaining this mental barrier drains me more than any physical restraint. Yet I can’t risk letting her in. Can’t risk her learning the truth about Lucien’s threats. She’s safer believing I’m guilty.

Another tentative touch against my mind, this one tinged with hurt and confusion. My chest tightens. The memory of her kiss in that warded room haunts me – the brief taste of hope before reality crashed back.

In the light-tight confines of my bedroom, I sink onto the edge of my bed, still fully dressed. Her presence lingers at the edges of my consciousness, a constant reminder of everything I stand to lose. Everything I must give up to keep her safe.

The ceiling blurs as I stare upward, still fighting to keep the mental walls in place.

Just stay out. Please. I can’t protect you if you keep trying to reach me.

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