Page 36 of Watch Me Turn
He pockets the number and taps his jacket. "Shame. I was beginning to think being a vampire was cool."
The mechanical grinding starts exactly on time.7:28 p.m., just like Julian promised.
We watch the heavy locks disengage, one by one. The beeps echo through the bunker like a countdown.
Angel's hand tightens around mine. "Whatever happens," he whispers, "I'll find you, Sophia. I am not going anywhere."
I want to believe him. Want to believe that love and blood bonds and ten days of stolen happiness mean something against whatever's waiting on the other side of that door.
But I can feel a wrongness in my bones. The air in the bunker crackles with menace. Silent and loaded with spilled secrets and stolen blood.
The door groans as it swings open.
Julian stands there, flanked by four forgettable-looking guards. His thin face breaks into a toothy smile that makes my blood chill in my veins.
"Well, well," he says, stepping inside. His eyes sweep over us—our joined hands, Angel's undead glow, the last remnants of our happiness still clinging to the air like perfume. "Don't you two look cozy."
I drop his hand, and Angel moves in front of me like a shield. "Are you the guy who did this to me? Are you the boss?"
"No. I'm simply the messenger. Your sire will be along shortly. I'm just here to ensure everything has gone to plan." Julian walks further into the room, his hand resting on the crossbow on his hip. "You look remarkably well, Mr. Ruiz. Better than well, actually. You look...extraordinary. I trust your stay was comfortable?"
"Wonderful," he grits out.
"The Primus will be very pleased," Julian continues, running a finger along the edge of Angel's collar. "Very pleased indeed."
"Where is he?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. "I was told I'd be meeting with Lazaro when this was done. To collect payment."
Julian drags his eyes over me, curling his lip when he reaches my battered Chucks. I want the ground to swallow me, but I force myself to stand up straighter.
"Trust me, child. You'll get what's coming to you."
A voice booms from the corridor, and I sense his presence way before my eyes settle on him. Lazaro Malvini. The Primus.
Julian steps aside but keeps his eyes on us, warning us not to try anything. Not that we would. The boss is flanked by twins with stone-cold eyes, both dressed in burgundy silk suits. Their dirty-blond hair is slicked back, glossy with oil, and their matching, sickening grins sit too easily on their otherwise handsome faces.
Lazaro is immaculate. He's larger than I expected, with a shock of salt-and-pepper hair framing a handsome, middle-aged face. His beard is groomed to precision, and his mustache curlsupward at the edges like a ringmaster—or a war general frozen in some ancient daguerreotype.
His eyes land on Angel, and his face lights up as he splays his arms. "There he is. My newest son. Beautiful boy, come to me."
I reach for Angel's hand, but he's already moving, already stepping away from me. His expression is glazed, distant—like he's sleepwalking. One half of a sire bond pulling him forward like a fish on a line.
Lazaro kisses Angel on both cheeks and then pulls back to study him. "Look at you," Lazaro murmurs, his hands on Angel's shoulders. "Perfection. Absolutely perfect." He tilts Angel's face up, studying him like a prized possession. "How do you feel?"
"Strong," Angel says, and his voice sounds strange and disconnected. Like he's speaking from underwater.
"Good. That's very good." Lazaro's smile widens. "You're where you belong." Lazaro's hands tighten on Angel's shoulders. "Do you know why you're here, my precious boy? Do you know why I chose you?"
Angel's jaw tightens. "To punish my father."
"Precisely." Lazaro's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Your father thought he could steal from me. Thought he could skim millions off our operations and I wouldn't notice. We had considered ransoming you—letting him buy back his precious son. Do you know what he said when we made the offer?"
Angel doesn't respond, but his hands curl into fists.
"He said we could keep you." Lazaro's voice is gentle. "Said you weren't worth the price we were asking."
Angel's body stiffens, his hands forming fists down by his sides. The twins watch in amusement. Soaking in Angel's anguish and loving every minute.
"I'm very talented when it comes to violence, Angel. So I decided the greatest punishment wasn't killing you," Lazaro continues. "It was making you ours. Making you serve thevery people he tried to screw over. Making him live with the knowledge that his son—his flesh and blood—belongs to his enemies."
