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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MORGAN

T he knock on the office door cut through the silence like a blade. There were three precise taps. Zand called for them to enter, his voice deceptively casual as he slipped the Cripo Glock into his desk drawer and out of immediate sight.

I retreated to a corner of Zand’s office. I positioned myself where I could observe everything without being the focus of attention. Harlen took a seat on a couch that was away from Zand’s desk, but closer to him than me.

Natasha ushered Layla into the room. What struck me about the blonde PR manager was how she appeared.

Her posture was impeccable. Facial expression was professionally pleasant.

Her sleek, designer black dress was immaculate.

You’d never guess she was the reason I died on a Michigan sidewalk not long ago. But I guessed it.

“You wanted to see me about an upcoming event?” Layla asked, her accent fading slightly as she addressed Zand.

Her eyes briefly perused Harlen and then me. From my corner, I eyeballed her. I saw concern crossing her European features. Then her professional mask slid back into place.

“Please, sit down.” Zand motioned to the chair across from his desk, the one I had vacated seconds ago.

Zand’s voice carried a practiced and patient charm he used with his employees. He used it with me. Did that mean I was an employee now? I knew he was in charge of us vampires, but was he my boss?

Natasha didn’t leave the office. She positioned herself near the door. Her stance was casual, like she wasn’t blocking the exit when she was, in fact, blocking the exit.

Layla settled back into the chair. She crossed her long legs. “Mr. Valentine, is something wrong? The club seems to be running smoothly tonight.”

“Actually, I wanted to discuss some security concerns.” Zand began. He leaned forward with his elbows on the desk. “Information has been leaking from The Castle. Very sensitive information.”

I watched Layla carefully. I had seen one too many episodes of Law & Order: SVU and I really thought I was Olivia Benson.

My vampire senses were picking up on the subtle changes in her body.

She had the quickening heartbeat. I heard a grinding of her teeth.

Even her fingers inside her fists were moving in her lap.

“That’s concerning.” She responded. “Do you have any idea who might be responsible?”

Zand smiled a smile like Nino Brown. “I believe I do.” He leaned back, studying her with a predatory focus. “Your phone, Layla. I’d like to see it.”

The request hung in the air. It was an innocent request on the surface, but it was loaded with accusations. Layla’s heartbeat, which I could now hear as clearly as if I had my ear against her chest, was accelerated and erratic.

“My phone?” She forced a laugh that exposed some of her teeth. “Why would you need to see my phone?”

“Indulge me.” Zand extended his hand across the desk.

Layla hesitated for a second before slowly reaching into her dress pocket. She withdrew her cell phone. She held it for a moment. Her hand shook as she lifted it above the desk. “I don’t understand what this is about.”

“Then let me be more direct.” Zand’s voice hardened.

“You’ve been seen texting immediately after receiving information about Chanel’s whereabouts.

You’ve been observed watching the VIP section with unusual interest. And you’re one of only three people who knew about the Cheboygan property where Teresa Protenza attacked Morgan. ”

The blood drained from Layla’s face, making her look even paler than a typical vampire. “That’s, that’s absurd. I’ve been loyal to you for all the years I’ve been in your service.”

“Unlock the phone.” Zand commanded. His hand was still extended toward her.

Layla clutched the device tighter. “This is my personal phone. It has private conversations.”

“Which you wouldn’t mind your King seeing if you have nothing to hide,” Harlen interjected from where he sat on the couch.

Layla’s deep blue eyes darted to each of us.

She was calculating her options. “I refuse.” She let out a cutesy giggle.

“This is invasive and insulting. I have real work to do.” She started to rise from her chair.

“If you don’t trust me after all these years, perhaps I should tender my resignation.

” Layla stood tall and squared her shoulders.

Natasha moved with blinding speed. Her hand clamped down on Layla’s shoulder and forced her back into the chair with such force that the chair’s legs screeched on the floor. “That wasn’t a request.” Natasha’s Russian accent popped out on full blast.

Genuine fear flashed across Layla’s face now. “You can’t do this. I have rights?—”

“Quiet.” Zand cut her off. He gave a single nod to Natasha. “Get the passcode.”

What happened next unfolded with a methodical precision that chilled me to my core.

From somewhere, Natasha produced a thin blade no longer than my index finger.

The sharpness of the blade gleamed in the light.

Natasha grabbed the cell phone from Layla’s other hand and tossed it across the desk to Zand, and he caught it.

If I would’ve blinked, I would’ve missed it.

In one fluid motion, Natasha grabbed Layla’s left arm and plunged the blade across her forearm in a deep, precise cut.

It was like she was cutting a steak instead of a person.

But she wasn’t a person Layla was a vampire.

Layla’s screams were muffled by Natasha’s other hand pressed firmly over her mouth.

Blood gushed from the cut like a water fountain.

The bright candy apple red against Layla’s pale skin was shocking even to my eyes.

The scent of the blood hit me like a karate kick.

The blood was bright, rich, and coppery intoxicating.

Not as fragrant as human blood, but still enticing.

My fangs extended involuntarily. Could we drink vampire blood?

I didn’t know. I struggled against the primal hunger that surged through me.

I couldn’t stop watching and I noticed her arm wasn’t healing.

The blood wasn’t stopping, clotting, or looking any less delightful.

“The passcode.” Natasha said calmly, as if asking about the weather. “Six digits, I believe.”

Layla shook her head violently. Natasha sighed, almost disappointed, and made another cut, parallel to the first. Blood ran even more freely now, dripping onto the expensive rug below.

I should’ve been horrified. A week ago, I would have been. But something in me, the new, rapacious part, watched with cold fascination instead. This was the justice I’d been craving since I woke up changed.

“Eight-four-sev—” Layla gasped when Natasha grabbed her hair and positioned the blade for a third cut. “Please, stop.”

Zand turned the phone screen around and placed it in front of Layla’s face. The screen opened without the aid of a passcode. What the hell? If they knew her face could open the phone, why did they carve her arm up and damn near have her bled out on the floor?

Zand scrolled through the phone. His expression didn’t give anything away.

With each swipe of his finger, I stood frozen in place.

Natasha had a firm grip on Layla’s head and Harlen sat with his arms rested on his knees.

The room fell silent except for Layla’s ragged breathing. We all were waiting for confirmation.

“You’ve been texting with Teresa.” Zand finally said.

“There is detailed information about Chanel’s schedule dating back.

Details about my movements. About my security team.

” He turned the phone so we can all see the screen.

It was filled with incriminating messages.

She didn’t have the sense god gave a chicken.

Cause why didn’t she delete the messages all the way off the phone?

“Zand.” Layla whimpered out his name.

“Zand.” He repeated.

“My King.” Layla begged.

There it was again. When did we start calling him King? Were the other vampires already calling him that and I didn’t know about it?

“You told her about my Cheboygan condo. You gave her the address, the security codes.” Zand admonished.

Layla slumped in the chair. She looked like she was dying. What kind of blade did Natasha use on her?

“Why?!” Zand yelled across the desk.

“Teresa. Sh, sh, she has my boyfriend.” She wailed. “My human boyfriend. She said she’d kill him slowly if I didn’t help her.”

“And you didn’t come to me?” Zand asked. His voice was dangerously soft. “You chose to betray me rather than ask for help?”

“You don’t understand.” Layla pleaded. “She sent me his finger. His actual finger in a box. She said she would cut off his, his, his.” She didn’t finish, but we knew what she was talking about. “What was I supposed to do?”

Despite myself, I felt a crumb of sympathy for her dumbass. Not enough to forgive, but enough to understand the impossible choice she faced. Love made us vulnerable. It made us do terrible things to protect the ones we cared about.

“You should have trusted me.” Zand said, rising from his chair. “Instead of conspiring with my enemy.”

He opened the drawer and removed his Cripo Glock. Zand’s movements were so casual it took a moment for Layla to register what was happening. When she does, her eyes widened with terror.

“Please, Alexander, please.” She begged while struggling against Natasha’s iron grip. “You don’t have to do this. I can make this right. I can feed her false information. I can help you trap her.”

Zand strolled around his desk until he stood directly in front of her. “You already helped trap someone.” He said with his monotone voice flat. “You helped Teresa kill Morgan. You helped her threaten my fiancée.”

The gun rose in his hand. He aimed it at Layla’s chest.

“My King, I had no choice.” She mumbled the words of her closing argument.

“There’s always a choice.” Zand replied like a real mafioso. “You made yours, and now, I’m making mine.”

The gunshot was almost silent. This was the special serum gun.

I had never seen it used before. The bullet hit Layla in the center of her chest. Her body instantly went rigid.

Her eyes were still open wide with surprise.

Natasha released Layla’s hair, and her body slumped forward.

She was paralyzed, but conscious. The blood from her cuts was still pooling beneath her chair.

“I’m going to put in a call to Virgil at the crematorium.” Zand said, turning to Harlen. “Take her there and make sure she burns.”

Harlen nodded twice. He moved forward to grab Layla’s rigid body.

“Wait.” Natasha said, and we all looked at her. “I will give you a body bag, so you won’t make a blood trail down the hall and in the elevator.”

Ah, so, Natasha just has body bags lying around available. Harlen stopped advancing toward Layla. Swiftly, Natasha darted out of Zand’s office.

“Morgan Hayes, look at you.” Zand’s words made me smile. “And here I thought you were going to just sit around and cry about being a vampire.”

“My girl would never do that. She’s too strong.” Harlen dispensed some praise on me.

“She is something.”

“I’ve accepted that I’m a vampire.” I told Zand.

“Good. I will give you all the credit. It was you, the new vampire version of you, that solved this problem for me. And for that, I thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Why did I want to say ‘my king’ just to be funny? “Are you really going to burn Layla?”

“I am going to tell my brother to do it.” He clarified.

“I want to go with him.” I heard myself say it as I stepped forward from my corner.

Zand assessed me. “Are you sure? Witnessing an execution is one thing. Participating is another.”

My gaze homed in on Layla’s face. She was still frozen in an expression of shock.

She betrayed us all because she was trying to save someone she loved.

I understood her choice, but I couldn’t forgive it.

Her actions led to my death. Her betrayal threatened Chanel.

In the brutal mathematics of vampire justice, her fate was sealed the moment she looked at me sideways and crazy.

“I’m sure.” I said with a voice more eager than even I expected. “Even though I have accepted the new me. She’s the reason I’m like this now. I want to see it through to the end.”

Zand pressed his lips together and nodded his approval. “Then go with Harlen. Learn what it looks like when someone betrays us.”

He didn’t have to add that last part, but I got it. He was the leader and all that jazz.

Natasha returned with a black bag big enough to fit a human body, or a vampire body. I stood a few feet away when Harlen lifted and placed Layla’s body into the bag that Natasha had placed on the floor. Harlen stuffed her loose limbs inside and Natasha zipped the bag up.

Harlen picked the bag up from the floor and hoisted Layla’s weight over his shoulder.

“Let’s go.” Harlen ordered.

“Use the service elevator. It will take you directly to the alley. Viktor pulled your car around.”

I followed Halen toward the door. I felt Zand’s and Natasha’s eyes on my back of my head.

This was a test, I realized. A test of my commitment to this new life.

A test to the harsh realities of vampire existence.

My willingness to participate in Layla’s execution marked my true entry into their world.

I was in a daze and didn’t even notice how I got down the hall. The elevator doors closed behind us, sealing Harlen, me, and Layla’s paralyzed form in the small space. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the polished metal with my pale skin and bright gray eyes. I barely recognized myself.

But perhaps that was appropriate. After all, the woman I was had died on a Michigan sidewalk. The creature that stared back at me now was something else completely. I was harder, colder, and gradually becoming comfortable being a vampire.