Michael was escorted into the room, I noticed, with a far greater number of security personnel than I was. Not that I could blame Marcus or them. I knew what he was capable of. At least, I thought I'd known. It turned out that he was far more skilled at what he did than even I'd realised.

A paid killer, Marcus had said. But paid by who? Other vampires?

Still seated in front of the desk, I scratched at the corner of the chrome tablet, trying not to look at Michael as he approached, although my gaze was drawn to him, nevertheless. I didn't want to think about that kiss. The way his arms had felt around me. His mouth against my throat. But I couldn't help replaying it over and over, feeling my face burn as our eyes met.

Behind him the security team remained, a wall of muscle and determination, with their hands poised over triggers and senses alert. I hated that they were here and looked to Marcus to dismiss them. He was back over by the window, the city moving behind him, and seeming to be completely unfazed by Michael's presence.

'He's not going to do anything stupid,' I insisted, shooting a warning glance at Michael. 'Are you?'

'I was thinking of us both just walking out of here,' Michael said, with a shrug. 'That wouldn't be stupid at all. In fact, it would probably be the smartest move we could make right now.'

Unease stirred in my chest, and I looked away before he could say anything more.

'And you will be free to go, Mr. Quinn,' Marcus said. 'But in the short time you will remain here, I'd like your word that you will not do anything that will encourage my guards to react. It would be an inconvenience to redecorate, not to mention I would not wish anything to occur that would upset my daughter.'

Michael eyed me steadily. 'Oh, so it's happy families now?'

'Hardly,' I bit back. 'Will you just give him your word? Please.'

There was a moment when I thought he'd refuse. He appeared tense, a spring coiled so tightly that every second threatened release. Finally, he shook his head as if in disbelief and breathed the word 'fine.'

Marcus appeared less convinced but dismissed his security team anyway, although I had a feeling they would burst back through the doors at any given moment, should Michael not stick to his promise.

'So, what's happening?' Michael said, glancing around the room and looking less than impressed with what he saw, particularly when his gaze fell upon the CCTV monitors. 'What stories has daddy been telling you? Did he explain why he's been an absent father all this time? Too busy with his Council mates to spend time with his only daughter?' He shot Marcus a look. 'Sarah is your only one, right? Or do you have a few more Sensors tucked away somewhere?'

'Your flippancy is beneath you, Mr. Quinn,' Marcus replied.

'And your belief that you can abduct your daughter and get away with it is beneath you, Signor DiCenzo.'

Marcus sniffed. 'I do not plan to get away with anything, as you imply. And yes, you're right. My methods of bringing Sarah to me were... extreme, but as I have explained to my daughter, I had no way of knowing quite what she was capable of. You and I both know that a Sensor who has survived in the world this long without Church training is a very dangerous creature indeed.'

My mind flickered back to plunging the knife into Michael's body. The resistance of flesh and muscle. The blood that had swelled to the surface.

'And you really thought that the best way to get her here was to incapacitate her?'

Marcus nodded, walking back towards the desk. 'Yes. And you, of course. I have no doubt that Sarah would have foolishly done whatever it took to try to protect you, Mr. Quinn. Like I said, my methods might seem extreme, but they were necessary.'

Foolishly? Cheers, dad. I gave him a sharp look.

'Necessary for what reason?' Michael said. 'She was doing fine without you, by the way.'

Marcus studied him coolly. 'Was she? From what I understand, Mr. Quinn, she was almost captured by the Council and then you freely walked her into the Parisian den of Sébastien Dufort where she would almost certainly have been killed. Dufort and his people are not well known for their mercy to Sensors. Much like yourself.'

Leaning across the desk, he brought the tablet screen to life and twisted it to face Michael.

'What's that?' Michael demanded, not moving.

Marcus gave a thin smile. 'See for yourself.'

Taking a few steps forward, almost as if Marcus had presented him with a cobra ready to strike, Michael leant over slightly to look at the screen. His eyes widened slightly, quickly darkening as Marcus began to sweep the screen to show him exactly what he had shown me. I saw him then. That same vampire I'd tied to my bed. The same one who'd looked at me with utter contempt – the one I'd known would kill me given half the chance.

'You son of a bitch...' he began, but I stood up and pressed my hand against his chest before he could move on Marcus. His warmth radiated into my palm as my curse buzzed furiously up my arm, reaching all the way to my shoulder blades, vibrating down my spine.

Michael touched my wrist as he searched my gaze. 'Don't let him get in your head. This is...'

'...not what I think?' I finished, wishing I didn't like his hand on mine so much. 'I think it's exactly what I think it is. You killed them, Michael. Every single one.' I grabbed the tablet from the desk and held it in front of me, swiping the screen across all the faces. 'They're Sensors. Just like me. And you killed them.'

Michael tensed. 'No. Not like you.' He glared accusingly at Marcus. 'Did you tell her that part? Did you tell her how every one of these Sensors was guilty of crimes against vampires?'

He jabbed a finger at the face of Greta Fransson. 'This one discovered a den of vampires living in a derelict house in Bromley. She blocked all the exits, set fire to the place, and picked off any that managed to escape. Seventy-three lives. All wiped out.' He swiped again a few times. 'This one found a teenager, newly born into the blood, alone, confused about what had happened to her. Wasn't affiliated to any den. He lured her to his home where he kept her prisoner in his basement for weeks. Then he invited all his Church friends, and they tortured her, eventually throwing her out into the sunlight to burn.'

I swallowed, shooting a glance at Marcus, who was staring hard at me.

'You were paid to kill them,' I said. 'A hired killer.'

'Yeah, that's right.'

'By who?'

'Den leaders mostly. Those who feared they'd been discovered.'

Swiping back, Michael pointed at the face of Elijah Oliver. I felt the hatred burning from him. 'But this one? This one I did for free. He tried to kill Bailey. Sliced her all the way down her back. So, yeah, I killed him and yeah, I really fucking enjoyed it.'

He exhaled slow, as if he was trying to disperse the anger. 'Now, you can choose to believe what you want to believe. You can look at this list and see faces of people you think are like you, but just because they are Sensors doesn't mean you are anything like them, just as I'm not Luther Baines or Celeste Lavigne or even Sébastien Dufort.'

A sliver of shame worked its way under my skin, worming its way deep inside.

'Hey,' he said, when I looked away, and instead of anger in his eyes, I saw something else. A softness. Warmth. Him. 'It's okay. I get it. If I was you, I'd have looked at this and thought exactly the same. You think I didn't believe the worst about you before we met? Every single Sensor I've met would have killed me if they'd been you that night. Every single one would have waited until dawn and opened those curtains and let me burn. I don't blame you one little bit for seeing this and wondering if you'd got me all wrong. I told you I'd killed Sensors. Maz told you. I didn't hide it, but I also wasn't about to sit there and justify every single one, because I know what I did was right. Just as what you did was right. Luther. The Cerberean. Celeste.'

'Even Celeste?' I whispered.

'Especially Celeste.' He gave me a small, wry smile. 'She'd have ripped you to pieces for just existing. Marcus here was right about one thing. The Parisian den are well known for what they do to Sensors and that was mostly driven by Celeste. To be honest, I'm still surprised Sébastien granted you exemption. I thought he might get us there and try to kill you, and then I'd have had to bury him under that ugly house of his.'

I found myself smiling despite everything. Despite the fact I knew Marcus was staring with disapproval at the both of us. Turning to him, I placed the tablet back down on the desk, pushing it across the surface towards him.

'I listened, just like I said I would,' I told him, as he made an impatient clucking sound with his tongue, shaking his head.

'And that is that?'

Michael stepped closer. 'What exactly is your problem?'

'You, Mr. Quinn,' Marcus snapped. 'You are my problem. This is my problem.' He gestured at the both of us. 'You are playing a very dangerous game with my daughter's life, and I don't like it.'

'You think all this is fun to me?' Michael pressed his fists into the desk and leant forward. 'My friends are gone. I have no idea where Sébastien has taken them. I don't even know if they're still alive.'

'They are alive.'

I gasped. 'How do you know that?'

Michael stiffened. 'Where are they? I swear to God, if you've been a part of this....'

Marcus laughed. 'A part of Sébastien's plan to use you both as pawns in his twisted, narcissistic games? Mr. Quinn, I can assure you he is quite capable of manipulating you without my assistance.' He glanced at me, his face softening. 'But I can also assure you that your friends are alive. And unharmed from what my intelligence agents tell me. Dufort will only go so far, unless of course you provoke him otherwise.'

'Where are they?' Michael said and the pain in his face almost broke me. They were not just his friends. They were his family and he needed them.'

'Can you get to them?' I said. 'You have the resources. You could get them back.'

'And risk a war with Dufort?' Marcus shook his head, adamant. 'No, I cannot.'

Michael slammed his hand on the desk. 'You mean you won't.'

'No, I mean I cannot.' Marcus' voice rose with anger. 'Mr. Quinn, much like yourself, I have spent a long time avoiding the gaze of the Vampire Council. If I stage any kind of attack on Dufort and his people, then I risk everything.' He looked pointedly at me. 'Including my own daughter. Whether you like me or not, I do not care. Whether you agree with my methods is not my concern. My concern is for Sarah and if I start a war with the Parisian den then the Council will find me, and then they will find her. Is that what you want?'

Michael stared at him, his chest moving in and out with the pain of it all. Eventually, he uttered a curse and looked away. 'Of course not.'

'Then it is decided.'

'Wait,' I said, my mind racing. 'You don't have to start a war with Sébastien. You said yourself you have resources. You didn't survive this long without them. You can bargain with him. Cut a deal. Ask him to release Michael's friends.'

Marcus inhaled sharply. 'A deal with Dufort is like dealing with the Devil himself. And what exactly do I offer him in return for their release? He's a rich man, Sarah. He will not want my money.'

'No, he won't,' I said. 'But you can give him the one thing he does want. Information. He blackmailed me into an arrangement to provide information about the prophecy, which means he really doesn't know as much as we thought he did. He's practically desperate for it, and I have no idea why, but he's willing to become the enemy of one of his oldest allies to get what he wants.' I glanced towards Michael, who shrugged, frowning. 'He took Michael's friends to ensure we'd do what he wanted. You've spent years looking into the myth of the Codex. I'm willing to bet you could trade him information for his captives.'

'Sarah, telling Sébastien anything is a very dangerous move. You cannot trust him.'

'Oh, I know that only too well,' I said, recalling his face in the bathroom mirror at Gare du Nord. 'But you can feed him with information, research, anything. Lead him on a wild goose chase if need be. Give him just enough to make him think he's got you in his pocket. You could do it; I know you could.'

Marcus raised a brow. 'Flattery, daughter? Is that where we are now?'

I exhaled. 'No, we're in a negotiation. You do a deal with Sébastien, and I will do a deal with you.'

He narrowed his eyes and I tried everything not to glance at Michael, who I knew was staring at me, a look of dread on his face.

My father tilted his head to one side, his eyes alight. 'A shrewd negotiator? It appears you are more like me than I imagined. And just what are you willing to offer me in return for my help?'

Somewhere inside, I was sure I could hear Michael urging me to stop. To shut up. To at least look at him. But I couldn't. I had to do this. I owed him this.

'I'll stay here with you,' I said. 'Michael will go and search for William Jonson, as Montague said we should, but I'll stay. Get his friends back, safe, and unharmed, and I'll stay. Just like you wanted.'