Page 85 of Inked & Bloodbound

It’s only beenthirty minutes, but it feels like an eternity. Lily hasn’t sent back any proof of life, and now I’m seriously worried. I’ve sent plea after plea to her, but nothing has come back.

Amore. Please. I know you’re mad, but I promise, it’ll all be okay.

Nothing.

My knuckles are white on the wheel of the Maserati as I put my foot to the floor and race toward Nocturne. It’s still early. I still have time. I can still make this right.

There’s nothing quite like the threat of losing someone to make you reassess your priorities. With every moment that passes, I get physically stronger, and the possibility of reaching Lily before she’s harmed slips further away. If anything happens to her, I’ll torch this place. The righteous anger provides some comfort, but it barely dampens the shame that niggles at me.

I did this. I can’t blame anyone else for the danger I put her in. I’m the piece of shit that did this.

The black warehouse comes into view, bringing with it a tidal wave of relief and a tsunami of fury.

I’m here, my love. I’m coming for you. Just hold on a little longer.

The back alley is teeming with vamps searching for Megan, so I need to retrace my steps. This time, when I reach the door of the club, I march straight through it, knocking the two goons into the gravel in my wake. One tries to protest, baring his pathetic infant fangs at me, but they soon meet my fist.

When I reach the entrance to the private rooms, a stocky bulldog with a tattooed face wielding a canister of silver-laced holy water tries to block me.

“You need to calm down, buddy,” he says, holding the spray out with an unsteady hand. “We’ve had a major security breach, and you’re making people uncomfortable. Whatever you’re on doesn’t agree with you. Try downers next time, eh?”

With a desperate roar, I tear the can from his hand and toss it to the ground, crushing it in the process. The escaping liquid spills and burns into my hand, but I barely feel it.

“The blonde I was with earlier. Where is she?” I hiss, wrappingmy steaming fingers around his throat and squeezing. “Tell me where they took her. And you’d better not lie to me.”

His eyes bulge with terror and search for the other goons who are already closing in around me. It doesn’t matter. I’ll take every single one apart if I need to.

“I don’t remember,” he lies. “We get a lot of people in. I can’t keep track of them all.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” I roar, slamming him against the steel door. The sound of it causes a group of nosy revelers to look up from their drinks and start paying attention. “Tell me now, or I’ll pull your eyeballs out of your head.”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. The little blonde skirt who was with the twins? They took her to the Styx room. Booked it out for the whole night.”

I drop him to the ground and tear the door open with my bare hands, shattering the flimsy locks with brute strength. Behind me, I’m aware of the approaching sound of footsteps. Six pairs of heavy boots, to be precise, but the sound is drowned out by the blood rushing in my ears.

Microscopic traces of her scent linger in the air, and the taste of them turns me into a man possessed. I’m unreachable, in a trance of blind, single-minded violence, following the trail of her sun-soaked essence like a treasure map. Faceless men and women, all vampires, attempt to stop me along the way. They come at me with fangs bared and weapons drawn, but it’s all in vain. I shake them off like ticks, throwing their inferior, newblood bodies at the walls and the ground.

My strength feels even more intoxicating than I remember. Years of hiding have blunted me, months of blood magic have drained me. I’ve been sleepwalking for decades.

But now I’m wide awake.

When I reach the Styx Room, I break the neck of the unlucky vampire who stands in my way. It won’t kill him, but it will hurt. He groans as I step over the crumpled heap of his body and into the dungeon-like room. Bracing myself for what I’ll see.

It’s empty, and when I see that it’s empty, two emotions war insideme. Solace that she isn’t there, chained to the cross in the center of the room, or hung from the chains bolted in the ceiling. And panic, because that means they’ve taken her somewhere else.

Somewhere worse.

I tear into the wooden cross that dominates the room and reduce it to a pile of splinters, then slump against the wall, dropping to the ground in defeat. My shallow breaths heave through my chest.

Something among the splinters catches my eye—a sliver of something iridescent glinting in the dusky light. There, caught between two pieces of broken wood, is a thin silver chain. Her necklace. The delicate “L” pendant that sat at the hollow of her throat.

I pick it up with trembling fingers. The moment the silver touches my skin, it burns like boiling acid, but I don’t let go. I can’t let go. It’s the only piece of her I have left.

My phone buzzes against my thigh, and I fumble for it with my free hand, hope and dread stirring in my chest.

I believe we have something that belongs to you. If you want her back in one piece, you’ll meet us back at the Hollow. Come alone. - Julian

The metal sears my palm as I close my fist around it, but the pain feels deserved. She was wearing this when I left her. When I walked away and let them take her.