A Place to Belong: Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter XXVI

Troubled Faith

I held tight around Diego’s waist as we rode the stolen motorcycle through the dark, twisting streets of Charlotte. Thankfully at least one of the ghouls had a preference for an older school kind of bike without computers that caused Diego to make some kind of pleased noise when he saw it. It had roared to life and didn’t even flutter as Diego called his shadows around us to obscure our passage through the city. While Charlotte didn’t have the night life scene of bigger cities like Los Angeles, Atlanta, or New York, the streets still had movement and light, and we were a howling void cutting through it. 

“Where are we going?” I called to him, my voice muffled by the helmet he’d forced me to wear. I noted, with irritation, that he’d elected not to wear a helmet himself, but I was in no position to argue that point with him.

“Gotta find Grey and Isadora,” Diego called back to me, his voice hard to make out between the thick plastic of the helmet and the wild winds whipping around us. “I know a few people that may be able to help. Some that may even be willing. A handful that owe me a favor.” 

“You’ve earned favors here?” I asked, surprised considering Diego had spent most of his time hiding in the shadows and not making much of a name for himself in the Anarch circles. He’d been clinging to his sire’s original teachings, making him a lot more timid than this current, more confident version I felt currently pressed up against my body. 

Suddenly, the realization of just how hard I’d been pushing my body against his crystalized in my mind, and I eased up a bit. For a moment, I thought I heard him laugh, but if he had, the sound was quickly lost to the wind. 

“There are a few Kindred who owe me a favor or two. Mostly my own clan and some Nosferatu that I’ve worked with in the past, but not all of them,” Diego explained. “I think a lot of Kindred made deals with me thinking I’d be too much of a wimp to ever call the debt.” 

I could hear the grin that broke out on his face and practically see his fangs being bared in response. 

“They’re in for one hell of a shock.” 

I didn’t doubt it. Diego had been different ever since the trip underground, and perhaps, thinking back a bit, even slightly before it. He’d been a bit mouthier before we descended into the depths, ever since he and Grey had their little conversation on the roof. I’d seen them coming down from the belfry together, laughing and joking about some old movies, but hadn’t put anything together until now. Something had shifted in him, and it wasn’t just because of the Garou fight. 

Diego pulled off of 74 as it curved more east to keep heading south into the more wooded area of the Charlotte outskirts. Signs for Monroe disappeared around a curve as the street lights went from the bright LEDs to the softer oranges of old sodium vapor lamps. The warmth reminded me of my childhood in the suburbs of Georgia outside Atlanta, before I’d really known how my parents afforded such a large house in such a nice area. Before I was drawn into their world of cutthroat business and backhanded deals as well. 

And, of course, before I’d ever met Marcus. 

A shiver passed through me as I thought of my sire. When my father’s business had gone under, when our fortune was dwindling, Marcus had arrived like a white knight. His cream colored suit contrasted with his dark skin. He’d looked every bit the part of the guardian angel, and I now felt ashamed to say that I had immediately become smitten. His basso voice rumbled with calm authority that my parents and I trusted in. He spoke of deals that seemed, at the time, to greatly favor them, which had seemed suspicious to my father at the time. When he asked, Marcus had answered smoothly. 

“Black empowerment isn’t just the duty of those in the streets facing off against unjust authorities,” he’d said, a smile touching at the sides of his mouth. “Our excellence doesn’t need to be proven, we’ve done that time and time again already. Nowadays, it needs to be displayed. To display it properly, we need to make sure we support each other at every conceivable point, because we will be attacked from every conceivable angle.” 

His words had convinced my father, who signed the contract then and there. He’d read it, there was no trickery in the words written on the page. The tricks came in the form of the honeyed words that poured from Marcus’ lips, which flowed like sweet wine into my naive ears. Soon, I became desperate to build myself up the way he had and begged my parents to let me intern for him, work for him, become the shining example of excellence that he’d painted in my mind. My parents had been hesitant at first, having originally imagined that I would be more like my mother and care for the home, but I’d been persistent in her speech and adamant in my dreams. 

“We’re supposed to support all forms of excellence, aren’t we?” I had asked, mimicking Marcus’ flowing speech, a poor comparison to him, but I felt I’d been convincing enough. “While the life mom led is admirable, and I support any woman who chooses to lead it, it’s not the kind of life I’m meant for.” 

They had eventually relented, and I went to work for Marcus. His company, a holdings firm, had me working throughout the summers and breaks between the schooling they’d paid for. My parents could have afforded it now that their company was back on the rise, but Marcus had insisted. 

“It would be my money regardless,” Marcus had said, teasing my father about the investment in his company. “Let me decide where the funds for each of my investments come from. Caroline has a future in this industry, or any other industry she chooses, but I can see her as an executive here some day. And I like to invest in my people’s futures.” 

These words had emboldened me, and I’d even joked about taking his position one day. Marcus had laughed at that, though thinking back now, I realized that his smile had never quite met his eyes at the time. Why wouldn’t he laugh at such a claim? After all, the elders of the Camarilla never expected to retire from their positions of power.

After I’d finished school, after I’d worked up to being his assistant to learn how the executive side of the business ran, that was when he made his move. That was when he chose to embrace me, and his true nature had been revealed. 

Except, it hadn’t, I now realized. Just an hour ago he’d betrayed me, attempting to drain me of the very vitae that he’d forced on me after preparing me… no… grooming me… for one life, only to take it away and push me towards another. I’d put my faith in him, in his teachings, so much that even after the embrace I’d still been so stupid that I believed in him and his mission. It was the same ideal, to put excellence on display, to never be seen as lesser ever again, just now it was on a grander scale. 

I'd fallen for that lie too. 

Diego cut the engine and I realized we were in a dark parking lot off the side of a long stretch of two lane highway I didn’t recognize. There were no streetlights, only the red and blue hues that came off the neon signs advertising beer strapped with rusted chains and duct tape to the side of a shack. A din of voices and music older than my mortal father seeped through the poorly insulated walls, and I felt like I needed a bath just looking at the place. 

“Where are we?” I asked, looking around but not seeing a sign anywhere that could help me get my bearings. 

“Little hole in the wall place some of the… seedier… Anarchs like to hang out in. They call it Ole Red’s after the old owner,” Diego said, grinning as he slid off the seat and offered me his hand, helping me off the bike. I gratefully accepted it as I still wasn’t used to balancing on the bike, even with the kickstand down. 

“Was his name Red?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes on the building rather than what was behind the bike. 

“Nope, but he sure was when they got through with him,” Diego said, his grin widening. “The Anarch Movement is all about freedom. He and his buddies were caught trying to lynch some people out in the woods. Cedric, a Nosferatu and the new bartender, saw them and didn’t take kindly to it.” 

“So he killed them?” I asked, my tone casual. I wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the result. The Nosferatu had a nasty streak from what I understood.

“Worse,” Diego said, his smile never wavering. “Mind the rope.” 

He walked around me to the back of the bike where he’d tied off the nylon rope he’d taken from the stadium before we left. Tied to the back of it was Carl, bloodied and covered in road rash from the long drive out this way. I’d been trying to ignore the pained cries of the punishment Diego had put him through during the ride, though most were probably in my head considering how hard it had been to hear Diego in front of me, but that hadn’t made the sounds much easier to take. Diego walked over and gave Carl’s still form a quick kick in the ribs, eliciting a groan from the ghoul. 

“Ah! Good to see you’re still with us, Carl,” Diego said, grinning. “Can’t have you dying on me just yet. Stick around, I’ll be back for you after a drink.” 

Carl just groaned, his eyes unfocused as Diego stepped past him towards the door. Part of me didn’t want to go inside hearing the raucous atmosphere within, but with the alternative being staying out here alone in the dark woods with Carl, I quickly fell into step behind Diego, letting him lead. 

We stepped through the door and instantly the atmosphere changed. Gruff, burly men and sharp, menacing women were scattered around the shack at different points. Some were shooting pool, others playing cards at a table, while still others were performing what looked like sexual acts on a couch, only under closer scrutiny were revealed to be very… intimate… forms of feeding off of extremely strung out mortals. Against the far wall was a long bar with glasses and stools, but no actual taps, which seemed unusual until my eyes fell on the wall behind it. 

Instead of mirrored shelves of liquor, the walls had been boarded over and four men were bound to the wood, their hands in what looked like plumbing clamps screwed tight against the wood. Underneath their wrists were medical tubes, filled with their blood, running down to nozzles below. Each man was in nothing more than their stained underwear and looked weak and anemic. Across each of their chests were tattoos: Butch, Daryll, Bubba, and Old Red.  

A shudder ran through me as I realized what Diego meant when he said that Red’s punishment was worse than death. Diego stepped up to the bar, looking at the twisted face of the Nosferatu who was working it without flinching, and smiled. 

“Evening Cedric,” he said, an easy grin on his face and calm demeanor radiating off of him. “I know it's late, and he’s usually the first to go, but is there any Ole Red left in the keg?”

“Lemme check,” the Nosferatu, apparently Cedric, said, his voice slurred from his slack jaw and crooked teeth. He reached back and pinched at Red’s bare thigh, causing the man to whimper slightly. As Cedric released the skin, I watched it slowly sink back against the deteriorating muscle. Cedric shook his head. 

“Can’t take anymore without risking him dying on us,” he said with a shrug. 

“And we can’t have that,” Diego said, his smile never faltering. “That’ll teach me to come in earlier, though I was a bit busy. How’s Daryll today? I know he usually has some fight in him.” 

“Strong as he ever is,” Cedric said, his flat tone never changing. He pulled out a glass and went to the nozzle in front of Daryll, twisted it, and I watched with a sick fascination as his blood flowed down into the glass. Daryll twisted against his bindings and hissed a breath. 

“Fucking… monsters…” Daryll coughed, letting off a few choice slurs going after every race he could probably think of with what was left of his mind. I probably would have felt insulted by his use of the hard ‘R’ if he hadn’t been so pathetic. Diego paid for his drink and then raised it to Daryll. 

“Your hate, and blood, sustain me, gringo,” he said, toasting the man before taking a sip. Then, turning to me, he asked, “Would you like anything?”

“Uh… No… thank you… There isn’t anything here to my taste." I turned to Cedric, sensing a potential faux pas. “No offense intended, of course.” 

“Not often we get a Ventrue in here,” Cedric said, nodding understandingly. “No offense taken.” 

Cedric turned and looked at Diego, curiously. 

“Something’s different about you, kid,” the bartender said, cleaning a glass in the perfect portrayal of the stereotype. “What happened?”

“Had a little confidence boost and world realignment,” Diego said, answering the question with zeal and vagueness, stirring up a bit of pride in my chest. “Where’s Dominique?”

Cedric didn’t push, he just nodded and gestured over to the pool table where a tall woman dressed in black leather and dark makeup was lining up a shot, her tongue between her teeth and her tits practically falling out of her shirt. I could see that this Dominique woman was dominating the table, but I wasn’t sure how much of her victory was based on skill and how much was because of the baser instincts of her competitors. 

Diego stepped forward, waited for her to finish the shot, watching her sink another ball before interrupting. 

“Been a long time, Domanique,” Diego said, taking another sip of his drink. The woman barely looked up at him before setting up her next shot. 

“Not now, little pup,” she said, her voice was smokey in a way that made her sound both dangerous and alluring, like the aroma of a toxic flower. “I’m busy.” 

She took another shot, sinking yet another ball, and slowly stood, accentuating her figure for all to witness. I could feel my lip curl in irritation as Dominique moved around the table, lining up the eightball for her final shot. Before she could take it, Diego put his drink down on the table between her and her target. 

Her eyes flashed with anger at his audacity. Slowly, she stood again, rearing up to her full height and setting her shoulders to give her a dangerous posture, the languid laziness of a predator at ease was gone. With the thick combat boots she wore, Dominique was well over six feet, towering over Diego, who didn’t even blink at the woman’s posturing, his grin still firmly held in place. 

“You have a lot of nerve…” Dominique started to say, and I slowly realized that the entire bar had gone silent. If Diego had also noticed, he didn’t react. Instead, he cut her off before she could take control of the conversation. 

“I’m calling in my marker,” he said, direct and calm, as if speaking with customer service rather than a dangerous Kindred who had taken offense to his actions. Dominique paused before she could get her rant going, a puzzled look on her face. Then, she laughed. I felt anger begin to rise in my chest at how she was treating Diego. The curl of my lip became a visible snarl. 

“Would you look at that?” she announced to the bar, still laughing slightly. “The little pup thinks he can come in here demanding favors.” 

There was a loud chorus of laughter that rumbled through the bar, as if they were getting a night’s free entertainment. I felt the sudden desire to roll up on this bitch, twist her mind like a pretzel, and force her to obey, but then I looked back and saw how calm Diego was, still smiling up at her as the laughter slowly faded. He had a plan, so I swallowed my pride and waited. 

“I’m not demanding favors, Dominique. I’m demanding that you repay me for a favor owed,” he said, calmly. “I’m sure you don’t want your reputation to be marred by reneging on a debt, do you?”

A hush fell over the bar as Dominique’s hackles rose into a sneer. 

“Is that a threat, little pup?” she asked, her voice dangerously low. “Going to spread lies about me? Try to ruin my reputation? Maybe me and my boys should teach you a lesson.” 

She grabbed the front of his jacket, pulling him closer to her. I could see as her fangs begin to grow, but they were different from the ones I was used to seeing on other Kindred. These looked more like those of the Garou we’d faced in the tunnels under Charlotte. Several other Kindred stood, seeming ready to back up Dominique, and I felt my stomach drop as I realized Diego had arrogantly chosen to call in a favor from a Gengrel pack leader. 

The animalistic Kindred weren’t far off from the Garou in the minds of many Ventrue I’d met, seeing them as mangy beasts barely above animals themselves. From behind the oak paneled walls of civilized cities, this seemed like quite the humorous take as Marcus described it to his more elite guests, but staring down the bestial eyes of a pack of angry Gengrel made me see things a bit differently. 

Diego still didn’t react, his smile hadn’t faded, and I was beginning to worry that he’d lost his mind. But I continued to bite my tongue, holding back the desire to run or try to talk our way out of the situation. I’d had faith in Marcus in the past, and he’d let me down, but Diego had proven more than once just today that I could rely on him to keep me safe. As much as I hated being reliant on anyone, right now I needed to just let Diego handle things. Clenching my fists, I stood my ground and watched Diego stand his. 

“You want to claim I’m lying about you owing me a favor?” Diego asked, his voice taking on an air of charming innocence. “After I helped you by finding out your boyfriend was sleeping with Ramona behind your back? And then helping you by scouting their little love nest so you could stake them both and leave them out in the sun?”

Dominique froze, clearly not expecting Diego to rat her out in front of the entire bar. Several faces turned to stare at her, some in shock, some laughing, and others with hatred burned into their expressions. It was clear that there was going to be retribution for what she did to her ex and Ramona, no matter what she threatened to do to Diego now.

“You… you…” Dominique sputtered, her eyes wild as she realized that the eyes of predators were now on her. “I told you if you ever said a word…” 

“You’d stake me and leave me in the sun, yes, I remember,” Diego said, removing her hands from his jacket with ease, though I saw Dominique wince in pain as he did, her eyes growing even wider as she realized just how strong Diego really was. My snarl became a sneer of pride. 

Take that bitch, I thought to myself.  

“See, Dominique is one of many,” Diego said, turning to face the room, his smile still firmly in place. “I’ve helped most of you over the past few years, stock piled quite a few favors that you all believed you’d never have to repay. You believed that I was too weak to call them in. That I was too timid to hold you to your debts. That I was a pushover you could ignore because… well, I was.” 

His smile widened as a tendril of shadow lashed out and wrapped around Dominique’s throat, lifting her into the air. She kicked her feet, clawing helplessly at the teether around her neck, but it was useless, her physical strength meant nothing against the intangible power of the Lasombra shadows. 

“But that old me is dead and gone,” Diego continued as if he wasn’t currently squeezing the unlife out of someone who had just been threatening him.. “And I think most of you here know that I have something on all of you. I’ve heard more, seen more, and have kept secret more than any of you realized I even knew. I have absolutely every single one of you on a leash.” 

The room went silent as the grave. Even Cedric stopped cleaning his glass to watch the display of power being performed at the center of his bar. Dominique continued to struggle, and while she didn’t need to breathe, I could see the flesh bulging at the edges of the tendril. Diego was squeezing tighter and tighter, bit by bit, and if he kept going, eventually he would separate Dominique’s head from her body, and there was no coming back from that. 

This was a slow, tortuous execution.

And he was making it look like an afterthought.

“But I’m here with an offer,” Diego looked back at Dominique for the first time as she struggled fruitlessly behind him, paused for a moment as if to enjoy the show, and then dropped her to the floor. Dominique scrabbled unceremoniously to her feet, fear in her eyes as she looked around, unsure of where the next threat may come from. “And this offer extends to you as well, Dominique, so listen close. Don’t run, because I’ll catch you.” 

He turned back to face the crowd and I watched as rage flared in Dominique’s eyes at the insult. To turn your back on a predator like her was either a stupid thing to do or the most egregious of insults imaginable. Diego was displaying to the room that he didn’t view her as a threat, and I could tell by the look on her face that Dominique was too afraid to challenge that assumption despite her anger. He’d successfully dismantled her in front of everyone, proving that he wasn’t weak, he wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t afraid. A rush of pride filled my chest as I watched, unable to keep a smile off my face. 

“Here’s the deal: earlier last night, my coterie went down into the depths of the city to recover something for the baroness. Two members have not returned. I will consider it a debt repaid to whoever brings Grey Cardinal and Isadora Caravelli to me here, safe and sound,” Diego said, pulling up a stool, and sitting down at the bar and casting his gaze over the bar. “Any questions?”

Dozens of faces stared at him for a brief moment, then the bar evacuated so quickly that I barely had time to register the sound of dozens of engines revving and retreating from the parking lot. I saw Diego smile to himself as he looked at the empty bar, and then over at Cedric. 

“Sorry to ruin your business tonight,” he said, shrugging. “Just needed to get this squared away.” 

Cedric nodded, putting the glass he was cleaning down. 

“Gives the kegs time to rest,” Cedric said, pragmatically. “Though, you weren’t correct on everything you said, Diego.” 

“Oh?” Diego asked, curiously. Cedric nodded at him sagely. 

“Yeah, you said you had dirt on everyone in this bar,” Cedric said, leaning in close to Diego. “You ain’t got shit on me.” 

Diego, to his credit, laughed. 

“You’re right, Cedric. Though I don’t doubt I could find something if I went digging. No one gets to your age in this business clean,” Diego said, and Callie noticed a slight sneer appear on Cedric’s face, as if he was tempted to throw Diego out. “But there’s no reason to go digging for stuff like that.” 

Cedric raised an eyebrow at Diego, now his turn to be puzzled. 

“Is that right?” the old Nosferatu asked. “And why is that?”

“Because you’ve always been fair to me,” Diego shrugged. “Not kind by any stretch of the imagination, but you were fair. Kept your promises, held your deals. You’re a man of honor, and a man I can respect.” 

Cedric looked a bit surprised by Diego’s words. 

“You’re… still you, Diego,” Cedric said, seeming to choose his words carefully. “Not the pushover you were, but still the idealist who feels justice should exist and that loyalty gets rewarded.” 

“I guess I am,” Diego said, smiling, then shooting me a wink. It was moments like these that I was glad to no longer be mortal, or I was sure my cheeks would be burning. “And that’s why I wanted to reward your loyalty to me over the years.” 

“I wasn’t loyal to you, Diego,” Cedric corrected, his tone flat and dismissive. 

“Maybe not to me,” Diego conceded. “But loyal to your word. Loyal to the promises you made me. I’m in a position to return that favor, so I’m going to.” 

Cedric shook his head. 

“I don’t need to be rewarded for doing what should be expected of everyone,” the bartender said. “You can punish those who break their word, but you shouldn’t have to reward those who do what they believe is right.” 

“Fine,” Diego relented, then grinned. “But how about I make up for the lost business tonight. I can’t give you the money you lost, but I can do you one better.” 

Diego got up and headed outside. Part of me wanted to follow, to get out of this place, but I stood rooted to the spot as Cedric’s gaze followed Diego out, then landed on me. I shrugged, as if I didn’t know what was happening, but a cold feeling pushed its way into my stomach as my suspicions rose. 

A moment later, Diego returned, dragging Carl on his rope leash, and threw him to the ground at the base of the bar. Cedric looked over the bar and down at the pitiful gore pile that passed for a man. He looked back up at Diego, questioningly.

“Pre-ghouled,” Diego said, as if that answered everything. “He’ll heal up in a day or two. Plus, ghouled by a Ventrue, so he should be something that they can tolerate so you’re not losing out on customers because of food restrictions.” 

Cedric looked back down at Carl, his interest rising. My stomach rolled slightly at the expression Cedric had looking down at Carl, like he was a piece of livestock being bartered for on the market. Any empathy I’d felt for him evaporated when I realized that Carl had been wearing a much more sinister version of that expression when he was leering at me under the stadium.

“What Ventrue ghouled him?” Cedric asked, and I could hear he was no longer as suspicious, but there was still some logistical information he needed before accepting such a gift. Diego’s grin widened. 

“He’s Marcus’ ghoul,” Diego said, and Cedric looked up at him, the Nosferatu’s expression shifting instantly from interested to terrified. 

“What have you done, Diego?” Cedric asked, his tone no longer flat or even business like, but swollen with fear and disbelief. “I can’t serve this! Marcus will kill me…” 

“Marcus is going to die,” Diego said, his voice hardening, and even I felt a chill run down my spine. 

“You would betray the Anarchs?” Cedric asked, his voice not accusatory, but astonished. “You? Of all people?”

“No,” I said, stepping up smoothly, before Diego could respond with any hot anger. “Marcus is my sire. He’s the one who betrayed the Anarchs first. He was trying to use me to overthrow the current baroness. He’s currently hunting her, and we need our coterie to help us find her before Marcus can. If he finds her first, he will usurp her, and I don’t know if he’d try to become the baron himself or if he’d sell us all out to the Camarilla in a desperate attempt to return to their good graces. Either way, I can tell you for sure, that if Marcus wins the night, Charlotte will fall.” 

Cedric looked at me, as if trying to read whether I was telling the truth or lying. As much as Marcus had taught me that Nosferatu were lesser Kindred, that their appearance meant they were built to serve silently from the shadows, I’d learned well enough that one should never try to lie to them. I was being honest with Cedric, and it seemed he could see that for himself. 

“So,” Cedric said, turning back to face Diego. “You need your coterie to find her. You think this Grey has something special about him that can track his sire?”

My world cracked. 

His sire?

I looked over at Diego, who seemed more annoyed than surprised. 

“How did you know?” Diego asked, his voice exasperated. 

“How did he know?” I asked, my voice growing high with incredulity. “How do you know? How long have you known”

“Since the wight thing,” Diego said, dismissively. 

“The wight thing?” I snapped at his casualness, my temper and voice rising in tandem. “You three hid the ‘wight thing’ from me, and didn’t think to tell me about the ‘Grey being the baroness’s childer thing’?”

Diego spun to stare me down and I suddenly had more empathy for how Dominique must have felt. 

“And what would you have done with that information?” he asked, quietly. “Would you have handed it over to Marcus like you did the scepter? Grey asked Isadora and me to keep it secret from you for that exact reason. Feel offended all you want, but look me in the eyes and tell me that his concern wasn’t well founded.” 

I looked back at him, desperately wanting to be angry, but then I looked away. He was right. I had kept my faith in the wrong person, and Grey had put his faith with the right ones, ones that he could trust. He had known better than to trust me, and I had no right to be offended, but there was still a part of me that hated being left out, being cast aside. Being excluded from the group. 

Biting my lip, I looked back up at Diego, summoning as much fire behind my eyes as I could. 

“Tell me one thing,” I said, my voice quiet. “How long would you have waited before telling me?”

Diego didn’t hesitate. 

“Until Grey told me,” he said, turning back to Cedric. They kept talking, working out details, discussing intel, and making plans, but I was barely listening. I was staring at Diego. There was no anger in my expression, just disbelief. 

Never before had I seen such loyalty in one person to another from this side. Diego had put his faith as deeply into Grey as I had in Marcus, and despite seeing the betrayal that ran rampant in our society, neither of us had faltered in our faith. Not until tonight, when Marcus betrayed me, had I ever strayed from my belief that he cared for me, that he had my best interest at heart. 

Diego felt the same way about Grey, and I didn’t know why. Grey lied, to all of us, and then only told the truth to those of us he had to in order to keep our loyalty. He manipulated, he schemed, he pulled strings from the shadows to get things to line up the way he wanted them to get the results he wanted. In a way, he was just like every other Kindred more powerful than him, playing the game with an intent to win. 

So why did Diego trust him?

Why did Isadora love him?

None of it made sense. Not unless…

Realization dawned on me. The reason I’d trusted and loved Marcus the way that I had, the reason I was willing to follow him into the lion’s den of the Anarchs despite knowing it could end in a death sentence, and the reason I still believed in him up until the moment he was about to slit my throat was because he’d made me feel like he cared about me. He gave me faith in my future, in a life beyond this hellish death I was forced to puppet my own corpse through night after night. He shared his ideals with me, and made me see a world where I mattered. 

Grey was doing the same. 

Only, he was doing it right. 

Where Marcus made promises, said all the right words, and made me feel like I was the most important person in the world to him in the moments he spoke to me, Grey was the opposite. He was blunt, tactless, and brutally honest when he actually told the truth. When he lied, he had simply avoided telling the truth, much like Isadora. While he would never tell us the whole truth, I couldn’t think of a time that he had ever directly lied to us. Every word he’d spoken had been brutally, cruelly, true. 

Because of this, he knew he couldn’t fully trust me, and so he withheld information until it was pertinent that I knew. He had kept me at arms length, challenged me, undermined my attempts at asserting my authority at every possible turn. He had also defended me, protected me, or at the very least ensured that I would have protection, despite knowing full well of my hatred for him. 

Beyond that, if Natalia was his sire and he suspected Marcus of planning to overthrow her, he would have had a great interest in removing me as a threat to her power. Killing me would have served his purpose well, and he had ample opportunities to do so. Hell, with Diego and Isadora’s loyalty, they could have thrown me down that pit themselves and been done with everything. 

But he hadn’t. 

Why hadn’t he? I wondered to myself, already knowing the answer. 

Because, I reasoned, the answer now obvious. Because Grey isn’t like them. Grey isn’t like Marcus. 

Suddenly Diego’s faith made complete sense to me, and while I didn’t think I could share in that faith with him right now, I could be patient. I could watch Grey, see if he was being honest with who he was or just putting on an act. I wasn’t willing to trust him the way I’d trusted Marcus. 

I looked up at Diego, whose strength had grownso much since I’d first met him, and not just in terms of power, and smiled. Maybe I couldn’t put my full faith in Grey right now. 

But I was willing to put my faith in Diego.