02:04. “Her father already knows she's missing from her room.” The rain was still falling. Marcus was still laughing. And my blood had gone to ice. 02:05. I didn’t answer him. Answering would be wasting seconds. I turned and ran. Pureblood speed. Absence. Up the freight elevator. Through sub-level 2. Across the kitchen where two humans screamed and dropped trays at the sight of me. Up 47 floors in the service shaft. My suit was ruined. My knuckles were bleeding. My tie was gone. I looked like a man who’d just committed violence. Good. Because in 60 seconds I was going to have to commit a worse one. 02:06. The Penthouse Wing. Silence. Then sound. Boots. Six pairs. Heavy. Military. Voices. Low. Alistair’s voice, clipped and precise: “Check the bedroom. Check the bathroom. If she’s not here, we tear the floor apart.” And underneath it, the worst sound. No violin. No movement. Just the soft, terrified inhale of a girl trying not to breathe. Suite 14B. I didn’t knock. I kicked the door. --- The scene inside was already half a crime scene. Two of Alistair’s men had the door off the hinges. Three more were in the living room, guns out, sweeping. The last one was in the bedroom doorway. And Elspeth was there. Bare feet. Black sweater. Hair still damp from the warehouse. Violin case clutched to her chest like armor. Her eyes met mine. Wide. Animal. She understood in 0.3 seconds. I didn’t give her time to speak. I crossed the room in one step. Took her face in both hands. Kissed her. Hard. Not gentle. Not courtship. Possessive. The kind of kiss that says _mine_ to a room full of wolves. She gasped against my mouth. Tasted like rain and rosin and fear. Her hands came up to my chest. Pushed. Then stopped. Because she heard it too. Alistair in the doorway. “Stop.” One word. I pulled back an inch. Kept my forehead against hers. Kept my hands on her jaw. Kept my body between her and him. “Get out,” I said. Not to her. To the room. Six security men. Alistair in the center. Silver knife on his belt. Alistair’s eyes went from me, to Elspeth, to the violin case on the floor, to the open window, to the two glasses on the coffee table. I’d set them there 10 seconds ago. Pulled them from the mini bar. Poured the 1947 blood-wine. The vintage I kept for board meetings. “CEO Kade,” Alistair said. Voice soft. The softest voice is always the most dangerous. “This is a surprise.” “Is it?” I let go of Elspeth’s face. Stepped back. Put my arm around her shoulders. Pulled her into my side. She was shaking. “Your daughter has a habit of insomnia. I offered company.” “At 02:06.” “Yes.” Alistair’s eyes narrowed. “Where were you, Elspeth?” Elspeth didn’t answer. She was looking at me. Waiting for the cue. I answered for her. “Here. With me. For the last hour.” Lie. Cold. Transactional. The truth I’d told her at the banquet. _“This is business. You will behave like a doll.”_ Now I had to sell it. I turned her in my arms. Tilted her chin up. Kissed her temple. Let my thumb brush her cheekbone. The same gesture I’d used to wipe wine from her hand two nights ago. “It seems Lord Alistair’s security is more interested in my private time than his daughter’s wellbeing,” I said. Smiled. No warmth. “I’ll be filing a complaint with the Council.” One of Alistair’s men shifted. “Sir, the window—” “The window was open because the room was warm,” I cut in. “Because we were drinking. Because this is my hotel, and I do not answer to you for who I entertain after midnight.” Alistair wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at Elspeth. Really looking. At her pupils. At her lips. At the faint smudge of rosin on her sweater cuff that I hadn’t seen. “Come here,” he said to her. She froze. I tightened my arm around her. “She’s fine where she is.” “Damian.” Alistair said my name like a blade. “Release my daughter.” The word _daughter_ was a threat. The room went still. This was it. The moment. If I let go, they’d take her. They’d find the rosin. They’d find the water on her boots. They’d take her hands. If I didn’t let go, I was declaring war. I chose. I let go. But I didn’t step back. Elspeth moved to her father. Slow. Head down. The doll again. Perfect. “Father,” she whispered. Alistair cupped her face. His thumb brushed her bottom lip. Where my kiss had been. His expression didn’t change. “Did he hurt you?” he asked her. “No,” she said. Voice small. “He was... kind.” Another lie. God help me, she was good at it. Alistair nodded. Then he looked at me. “Alone,” he said. The six men filed out. The door was kicked shut behind them. Now it was just us. Alistair. Me. Elspeth, standing between us like a knife. 02:09. “Explain,” Alistair said. I poured myself a glass of the blood-wine. Didn’t offer him one. “She’s lonely,” I said. “Vance heirs are always lonely. I thought it would be... politically useful to keep her occupied.” “Occupied.” “Yes.” I sipped. The wine tasted like ash. “You wanted me to police her. I’m policing her. By keeping her in my bed instead of in the streets where werewolves could get her.” The word _bed_ made Elspeth flinch. I didn’t look at her. If I looked at her, I’d break. “Cold,” Alistair said. “Transactional. That’s what you told me you wanted, isn’t it?” “That’s what I want.” “Then prove it.” He stepped closer. Invaded my space. He smelled like tobacco and old money and violence. “Put your hands on her,” he said. “Now. Like you mean it.” My blood went to fire. This was the trap. If I touched her like I owned her, I became the monster the council expected. If I didn’t, he’d know. I moved. I took Elspeth by the wrist. Not gentle. Yanked her to me. She made a small sound. I pushed her back against the wall. One hand on her throat. Not squeezing. Just there. The other on her hip. I leaned in. Breathed against her ear. “Is this what you want to see, Alistair?” I asked. Loud enough for him to hear. “This is business. She’s an asset. And I’m using her.” Elspeth’s heart was hammering against my hand. Too fast. Human fast. Vampires don’t have hearts like that. Not unless they’re in love. Or terrified. I prayed he couldn’t hear it. I turned my head. Met Alistair’s eyes over her shoulder. “Satisfied?” I asked. For one second, I thought it worked. His face was blank. Calculating. Then he moved. He stepped in. Close. Too close. And he sniffed. Right at Elspeth’s neck. Right where her pulse was jumping. Vampires can smell lies. Can smell adrenaline. Can smell human. Alistair’s nostrils flared. His eyes, black and ancient, lifted to mine. And he said: “Then why is her heart beating at human speed, Damian?”

Chapter 8: The Lie We Drink