Page 122 of Bitten Vampire

An elder. There are so few of us.

“I’m telling you the truth. It was Sunday, the day after you lent me the hoodie.”

I had people watching her… no, not on the Sunday—we had only assembled the complete team on the Monday.

“Someone placed a delivery at your address. I assumed it was you. I collected the food, returned your hoodie, and one of your friends decided I would make a good snack. He dragged me inside by my hair and tore out my throat. Shock and blood loss made me pass out or die; I’m not sure which.”

She shrugs, as though it’s unimportant.

“I woke up like this, in your body bin.” Her voice cracks. “You really are a bunch of sick bastards with no self-control. I’m surprised the human government hasn’t wiped you out.”

She cannot publicly talk like that; the council and the clans would kill her.

“Wipe us out? Are you forgettingyouare a vampire?”

“Indeed. Your pal murdered me. Thanks for that.”

“We’re getting off track. What did he look like?”

In a flat monotone she describes him: chalk-pale skin, a crimson mouth, dark grey eyes. The way he caught sunlight and burned; his clothes, his stance, the tone of his voice—and what followed.

Father. Of course.

A muscle twitches in my cheek. I turn away before rage shatters the table.

Calm. Think. Protect her.

This isn’t aboutme.It is about Fred.

“How did you turn?” I ask, already building scenarios in my head. None make sense. She didn’t carry the DNA markers. I checked.Twice.

“I have no idea.” She takes a deep, unsteady breath.

The world narrows to bitter orange, cool iron and the wrongness in the way she still draws breath. I force myself to move away.

“You’re still so new,” I say, pacing to bleed off the violence. “Still breathing. You have been an unregistered vampire with no clan for more than a month. How many bodies?” I must ask; the law demands it.

“Bodies?” She glares. “As in people? None. Do you think I’m out here murdering humans? I’m nothing like you or your friends.”

I deserve that. The corner of my mouth twitches despite the danger; my mate is all fire.

“It’s less than an hour to dawn. I need to get you somewhere safe.”

“I just want to pretend today never happened and go home.”

“Where’s home?”

“That is none of your business. I don’t know you.”

“I’m the only help you’ve got,” I hear myself say, and hate how true it is.

She grimaces. The defensive anger melts into somethingcloser to defeat. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be rude. I’m just… frightened. It’s been a lot.”

A knock interrupts. I crack the door. “Cameras wiped, bribes arranged,” Harrison says, handing over the clan Bloodbrand—no larger than a coin, carved with spells older than language. The iron pulses faintly, runes alive beneath its surface.

I nod, close the door, and turn back to her.

“Winifred, vampires aren’t clanless. To survive, you must belong. There’s no hiding and no running.” Not from Father, not from his treatment of mistakes. “You have managed so far, but time’s up. Let me help. Let me take over now.”