Page 9 of A Touch of Madness

Dorian exhales sharply, his fists clenching at his sides. "Elijah." The name falls from his lips like a curse, weighted with betrayal.

I step forward, placing a hand on Dorian’s shoulder to steady him. "We need him alive, Dorian. If he knows the Society’s plans, he’s more valuable breathing than dead."

Dorian glares at me, his jaw tight, but he nods. "For now."

“Where are they now?”

“They’re in the back,” he admits, his voice trembling. “But please, I didn’t want to?—”

“Get back to work,” I growl. “And don’t speak of this to anyone.”

He nods frantically and does as told. Sylvie turns to me, her expression a mixture of determination and unease. “They’re scared, Lucian. Desperate. The Society isn’t just threatening them—they’re using them.”

“Then they’ve chosen poorly,” I say, my voice low and venomous. “Michael is lucky I’m feeling generous. But my generosity only carries so far, love.”

Sylvie glances between us, her brows furrowed. "What are you going to do?"

I turn to her, my expression softening despite the storm raging within me. "We’ll handle it. Stay here. You’ve done enough for tonight."

Her eyes narrow, defiance sparking in their depths. "I’m not staying behind while you confront him. I can help."

"You’ve already helped immeasurably," I say, my tone firm but not unkind. "And I need you to trust me. Elijah in particular won’t hold back if he feels cornered. This could get... messy."

She looks at me with an intent gaze, and knowing what that means, I begrudgingly gesture her forward, Dorian at my heels.

The kitchen is dimly lit, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the faint scent of decay. Elijah and Cara stand near a metal table, their backs to us, rifling through stacks of papers. They don’t hear us enter, but the moment Elijah senses our presence, he stiffens, his hand hovering near the knife at his hip.

"Hello," I say evenly, my voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. "We need to talk."

They turn slowly in tandem, Elijah’s eyes narrowing as he takes in our stances. "Lucian. Dorian. I figured it wouldn’t take long for you to come knocking." His tone is casual, but there’s a flicker of unease in his expression.

"You’ve betrayed us," Dorian growls, taking a step forward. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done?"

Elijah smirks, though it’s brittle. "Spare me the lecture. You don’t know what it’s like, living under their thumb. They gave me no choice."

"There’s always a choice," I counter, my voice low but laced with steel. "You made yours. Now you’ll face the consequences."

Elijah shifts his stance, his hand inching closer to the knife. "I did what I had to do to survive. You’d have done the same in my position."

"No," I say, my eyes locking onto his. "I’d let them kill me before I betrayed my people."

Dorian moves like a shadow, his hand gripping Elijah’s wrist before he can draw the blade. The sound of bones snapping fills the air, followed by Elijah’s sharp cry of pain.

"Where are the packs, Elijah?" Dorian demands, his voice cold as I grab Cara and hold her steady before she tries to run. She squeals but makes no attempt to get out of my hold. Neither of them are a match for Dorian and me. They’re much younger and nowhere near as quick or powerful. Still, one can never be too careful.

"I don’t know!" Elijah snarls, struggling against Dorian’s hold. "Solstice took them. They didn’t tell me where."

"You’ll tell us everything you do know, Elijah. Who else is working with Solstice? What are they planning?"

Elijah’s defiance wavers, his eyes darting between us. "They... they’re planning something big. Something that’ll tear the city apart, according to them. But I don’t know the details. I swear."

Dorian leans in, his fangs glinting. "You’d better hope you’re telling the truth, Elijah. Because if you’re lying, the only way out is death."

The tension in the room crackles like a live wire, Elijah’s fear palpable as Dorian tightens his grip.

"Start talking," I say, my voice as cold and sharp as a winter’s night.

Cara knees me in the crotch and tries to bolt before I can fully right myself, but Sylvie is faster. She raises a hand, and the air around Cara shimmers, trapping her in place. “You’re not going anywhere,” Sylvie says, her voice steady despite the strain of holding the ward spell that she’s grown quite fond of.

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