Page 64 of Missing Piece (Neon Scars #2)

Adam’s brow furrowed. “I just always assumed she was doing something shady, like tricking addicts into selling their organs for drug money.” He turned his gaze to Caleb. “Is this one of the people that attacked you the other night?”

Caleb’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”

Matteo signed with a big grin, and Vincent had to bite back his own amusement.

“He say in the video that they attack before you and Graves got a chance to fuck,” Petrov translated.

Vincent watched Caleb’s face flush with embarrassment, but he could feel Adam becoming tenser by the second. Time to change the subject.

“So you want to know who can make that kind of ID?” Vincent asked, steering them back on track.

He already had a good idea—V, a small-time criminal who occasionally helped with fake IDs for the vampire dancers at Wild Side.

But information was power, and Vincent wasn’t about to give it away for free.

His beast purred at the opportunity. Make him squirm. Show them what you can do.

“What will you do for me in exchange for that information?” Vincent asked, allowing his eyes to shift, as his fangs slid into place. The two fangs on the left side cut into his lip, drawing blood. “I don’t do anything for free.”

Vincent watched as terror shot through Caleb’s features. The human’s whisper was barely audible, “What do you want?”

A slow smile spread across Vincent’s face as he leaned in close. “Close your eyes,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over Caleb’s ear.

Caleb’s eyes squeezed shut, his breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts. Vincent caught Tariq’s incredulous expression and Luka’s amused sip from his beer.

Push it a little further, Vincent thought. They need to leave with no doubts about what I’m capable of.

“You know what we can do with just a touch, correct?” Vincent whispered. “Do you want to know what I can do?”

Caleb’s head shook vehemently. “Just get it over with.”

“As you wish, Buttercup,” Vincent said smoothly.

Adam’s grip on Vincent’s thigh tightened urgently, as if sensing the escalation. Vincent’s hand moved to Caleb’s chin, forcing his head back with calculated pressure. He allowed just a trickle of his power to seep through their skin-to-skin contact, enough to make Caleb gasp and shudder.

Before he could reassure Adam or fully register Caleb’s reaction, fingers closed around his throat with vice-like strength, slamming him back against the wall. The gleaming tip of a knife appeared inches from his eye.

Marcus’s face loomed in front of him, furious and unyielding. His amber eyes practically glowed against his black sclera, an unnerving contrast that made even Vincent’s beast waver.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” Marcus growled.

Vincent’s beast snarled, bristling at the sudden attack, but a small part of him couldn’t help but acknowledge they’d pushed too far.

Vincent laughed, caught between his desire to maintain his reputation in front of Tariq and seeing a side of Marcus he thought was gone.

“You’re supposed to buy a guy dinner before you get to the foreplay. ”

“I told you not to fucking touch him!” Marcus bellowed, stabbing the knife into the wall beside Vincent’s head.

“We were just having some fun, I wasn’t actually going to do anything,” Vincent said, rolling his eyes.

Marcus’s face twitched. “How about I borrow your pet for some fun?”

The suggestion hit Vincent like a sucker punch. Possessive rage built within him, but he forced it back down. “That’s not a nice thing to joke about,” he managed through gritted teeth as the beast roared in his mind. Kill him. Fucking kill him. Adam is mine. Not his.

Over Marcus’s shoulder, Vincent caught sight of Adam.

Tariq held the human’s arms back as though Adam had tried to intervene.

Adam stared in silence, his eyes already glistening with tears, his face reddening.

Vincent was overwhelmed by the desire to comfort him, to reassure him that Marcus’s suggestion was nothing more than posturing.

But first, he needed to defuse this situation.

Silence stretched between them, each second an eternity as Vincent and Marcus stared each other down.

Vincent broke first. “Ugh, fine, I’m sorry, Caleb. I promise not to do it again. ”

Marcus released Vincent, his scowl remaining. “Ease up on that,” he ordered.

Vincent feigned a sigh and muttered, “You used to be fun.” He patted Caleb on the cheek, withdrawing his ability to release the young man from its effects. “Better?”

Vincent immediately focused on Adam as he yanked himself away from Tariq’s grasp and wrapped his arms around himself. Something was wrong; Adam looked like he’d gotten the wrong idea entirely. That flutter in Vincent’s chest turned painful—he’d fucked up, and he knew it.

“Come sit, pet,” Vincent beckoned, realizing too late he’d used the wrong term. His mind was still in performance mode when he needed to be comforting. He turned his attention to Marcus. “Buttercup over here came to me first, I didn’t coerce him or anything.”

Caleb tried to approach Adam, genuine concern etched on his face. “Adam, are you okay?”

“Don’t talk to me!” Adam snapped.

Vincent watched with his mouth agape as Adam paced back and forth, his shoulders jerking with barely contained sobs.

The flutter in his chest turned to a painful squeeze, a sickening realization that he had fucked up monumentally.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He had only meant to maintain his reputation, to keep up appearances. Adam knew that, right?

You hurt him, the beast growled, equally distressed. Fix it.

“Adam?” Vincent asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

He looked to Luka, seeking guidance, but his friend’s hands moved swiftly, signing a harsh truth: “You fucking idiot. You hurt his heart.”

Vincent shook his head, the weight of his actions crashing down on him. “Adam, it wasn’t—”

But before he could finish, Marcus’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Stop while you’re ahead,” he advised, his voice low and serious.

Vincent’s mind raced, trying to find the right words to fix this, to explain himself. But nothing seemed adequate.

Petrov slapped his knee. “We go with pet,” he said as he stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. “You stay and talk business.”

Vincent looked to Marcus, who nodded. “Fine, just stay with him.”

“Tariq, Caleb, I need you guys to go back out there,” Marcus said as he sat down on the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head as the twins and Petrov ushered Adam through the silver curtain.

“What about the name?” Caleb implored.

Vincent picked up his champagne flute and swirled the bubbly red liquid solemnly.

“Don’t worry, Buttercup, I’ll tell Marcus what you guys need to know,” he said before draining the glass.

He fell back into the couch and grabbed the champagne bottle, taking a swig directly from it. The lecture was coming.

Marcus waited until the curtain settled before grabbing the bottle from Vincent. “So is your brain still scrambled from that cult leader, or should I assume you’re just being an asshole? I mean, really…What the fuck?”

“I don’t know—” Vincent began, but Marcus cut him off.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Bellenger. I asked you to come here so we could talk because apparently we have a mountain of chaos headed our way—”

“I’m aware.”

“And I know you just went through some shit that you’re not going to tell me about, and it may not show on you, but I can smell the injuries on your pet from a mile away—”

“He’s not a pet!” Vincent snapped, instantly regretting his sharp tone.

“Then why the fuck are you treating him like one in front of everyone?!”

Marcus was right. He had been a colossal asshole to Adam, parading his control in front of Caleb like some kind of prize possession. He was so caught up in maintaining his image, in proving he was still strong, that he hadn’t stopped to consider how his actions might affect Adam.

Vincent buried his face in his hands, struggling with his dual desires for Adam’s happiness and his need to maintain his stature. Marcus knew what he was struggling with, if anyone would understand, it was him.

“Because I was weak! I’ve been weak!” Vincent’s voice broke as he spoke, each word laced with self-loathing.

“It took every ounce of strength I had to fight off Richard’s bullshit.

Do you have any idea how pathetic I feel?

To have to fight that hard to not hold Adam down so that sick fuck could rape him in front of me? ”

Marcus’s brow furrowed, his mouth forming a grim line at the revelation, but he remained silent.

“I don’t know how to do this, Marcus. I used to feel strong. I was feared. My reputation kept danger away, and now…if I don’t start making them fear me again, something else could come and try to take Adam away.”

“Terrorizing your friends and one still-recovering human doesn’t strike me as the best way to go about that,” Marcus replied. He placed his hand on Vincent’s back, gently patting it.

“You don’t think I know that? I’m spinning my fucking wheels here,” Vincent snapped, but he didn’t push Marcus’s hand away. The steady thump on his back was somehow keeping him grounded.

Marcus studied him for a moment. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Fight Richard’s power?”

Vincent was caught off guard by the question. His mind flashed back to those harrowing moments. “I don’t know. Adam told me he focused on his anger and pain to break through it, but when I tried that, I just felt like I was drowning.”

Marcus leaned forward slightly. “Then what did you focus on?”

Vincent paused, looking down at his hands as embarrassment washed over him.

Just be honest. “Love. How much I love him and his stupid human face and the way his eyes sparkle when he smiles and how his laugh makes my chest hurt. How, under all his armor and bravado, there’s a sensitive, kind person I want to see more of—” He stopped himself.

Marcus remained silent before letting out a soft sigh.

“You’ve got it bad, don’t you?” He laughed at the deadly look Vincent shot him.

“A few weeks ago, I would have teased you, but now…” He rubbed his chest. “I felt the fear right here. I had no blood stored when the hunters attacked, and I almost killed Caleb feeding on him. The fear of losing him hurt me and my beast. Had Ophelia not talked me out of it, I’d probably be out there hunting them down right now.

My beast wants to rip them apart and send a piece to every hu nting group in the state.

But that’s not going to help me, and it’s not going to help Caleb. ”

Vincent looked up sharply. “What do you mean? It would let those bastards know not to come down here.”

“In the old days, yes. But times have changed. We have changed. Making hunters and vampires alike afraid used to work, but it never lasted long. There was always someone waiting to take a shot. The way we’ve been doing things here has worked, and we didn’t do it through brute force.

If I gave in to what the beast wants, it would remind all the hunters we have alliances with not to mess with us, but it would also give them permission to put my name back on their kill list. That would make me vulnerable, and it would make those I care about vulnerable.

Knowing when to pull your punches is a form of strength too. ”

“It’s time to redefine what strength means for you,” Marcus said gently. “Fear isn’t the only way to protect those you care about.”

The words hung in the air between them. Vincent’s mind raced, trying to reconcile his old ways with this new reality Marcus presented. “So what do I do now?”

“Go apologize to Adam.”

Vincent knew Marcus was right. With a deep breath, he grabbed the bottle of champagne and finished it off, the last drops sliding down his throat. He stood, renewed determination coursing through him.

As he turned toward the curtain, Marcus’s voice stopped him. “I hear you’re much more pleasant now that you have some love in that cold, dead heart. So do me a favor and beg for forgiveness if you have to. I like seeing my friends happy.”

Vincent nodded, the weight of Marcus’s words settling on his shoulders. He could hear Marcus’s parting shot as he walked toward the main floor of the club. “And stop being such a fucking dick all the time!”

A chuckle escaped Vincent’s lips despite himself. The club’s neon lighting and pulsing music seemed distant as he made his way toward Adam, his thoughts singularly focused on the man who had somehow wormed his way into his heart.

He’s weak. He’s going to drag us down, the beast hissed.

Vincent pushed it back, refusing to let it take control again. “Stop backseat driving,” he muttered under his breath.

A knot of unease formed in his chest as he pushed through the crowd, ignoring curious glances from patrons and staff.

He couldn’t see Adam or catch his scent.

Where is he? Panic grew with every step as he waded through clusters of people, his gaze darting around desperately. No sign of Adam anywhere.

When he reached the front of the building, he bolted to the sidewalk, his eyes immediately landing on Matteo, Luka, and Petrov standing together. They were signing rapidly at each other, their expressions tense and anxious.

Matteo spotted Vincent first, his green eyes widening with alarm. Vincent didn’t even have time to raise his hands before Matteo’s fingers moved frantically.

“He’s gone.”