Chapter 31: thirty-one

Cole

The journey home was a silent, drawn-out affair. The stifled cries from the trunk ceased after a short while, and I found myself hoping that Annabelle hadn’t met her end. I wanted to savor her demise, to witness the life drain from her eyes and feel her final, fleeting breath.

I didn’t want her to die in the trunk of a car. She didn’t deserve such a swift death. I knew, however, that choking on dirt wouldn’t be her end.

My little dove had already begun to heal slightly. Her bruised and cut face was almost entirely healed.

I could still sense the burned skin on her back, and it reignited my rage. I tried to focus on anything else, like the sensation of her warm breath against my bare chest.

Her lips were slightly parted, and she looked so serene.

By the time we reached my father’s castle, dawn was breaking. We lived in the modern era, yet he clung to his castle. He was an original vampire, the original vampire, so I suppose he could have whatever he desired.

His intention was never to enslave the human race, but once things are set in motion, it’s nearly impossible to halt them. I had a plan to reverse everything, which was likely why Marcus wanted to usurp my position.

The cars pulled up to the massive wooden drawbridge. It took only a few minutes for it to lower and grant us entry. The cobblestone path was slightly bumpy, and I groaned as the sleeping girl jostled against my lap.

One of the soldiers opened my door once we stopped, and I carefully carried her to the front door. Branden, Raven, and Kaden were close behind me. I smiled when I saw Brayden, completely healed.

We would talk later.

The doors were absurdly tall and swung open abruptly, revealing my father on the other side. He wore a broad grin, but I knew him well enough to see he was masking a scowl.

“Cole, my son, come, come,” he boomed in a jovial tone.

The two Damned soldiers stood behind us. “What shall we do with the prisoners?” one of them asked.

“Dungeons,” I replied.

“Prisoners? What the hell, Cole,” he hissed, “Please tell me one of them is Adam Sinclair.”

“Yeah right,” Raven scoffed. I shot her a glare.

“It’s been a long… look, can we freshen up and rest, then we’ll talk?” I sighed out. He just nodded.

***

The exterior of the castle might have been medieval, but the interior was anything but.

We were all shown to our rooms. Raven refused to be too far away, and I was honestly grateful because she would have to help me explain some things to Olivia.

I cleaned up as quickly as possible before tending to her needs.

She was still asleep, so I had to make do with washing her body with a wet cloth, peeling off her underwear and bra, and gently dressing her in a silk nightgown.

I couldn’t do much about her matted hair, not until she woke up. Her stomach was healing, but you could still see the lines faintly.

I had her in the bed and was pacing the room when Raven came in.

“Are you trying to dig a moat?” she asked, a slight grin on her face.

“I need to call a doctor. She shouldn’t still be asleep,” I said, more to myself than to her.

“They can’t help. She’s in a healing cycle,” she said, as if I was supposed to know that.

I raised my eyebrow at her, and she sighed.

“We can heal quickly, but her injuries are…extensive. Also, she’s only half-fae, so it’s going to take her a little longer.

“A healing cycle redirects our energy, our magic, to healing. Give it time.”

“Will you stay here in case she wakes up? I need to go take care of things,” I asked her, my gaze fixed on my little love.

“Well, I didn’t come here to look at your ugly face,” she said, plopping down on a nearby chair.

***

“I’ll take care of Marcus,” he said, dragging a hand down his face.

“The hell you are!” I growled.

“Let me make this right, let me fix this,” he pleaded, a gloomy look in his eyes, but I didn’t care. Marcus was mine to destroy, mine to ravage.

“You had twenty years to make things right. You should have kept him on a tighter leash.”

I rose and started to make my way to the door, ready to sprint to the dungeon and disembowel Marcus before my father could beat me to it.

“He was there that night. He led the attack on Rosewood Forest. It took years for me to uncover the truth, but he was there,” he said, stopping me in my tracks. Fuck.

“Fine, but that bitch is mine,” I said before leaving, trying to wrap my head around everything.

He was a cruel bastard for thousands of years, until he met her. And Marcus likely killed her, maybe not with his own hands, but he played a part.