Chapter 19

Panic seeped into the marrow of Julien's bones. Despite his heightened senses and a frantic scan, there was no trace of Rowan. His familiar scent no longer wafted in his direction. Not even a sign of some willing mortal clinging to him and begging for a bite like in the Blue Vein.

He expelled a nervous breath, almost wishing that that had been the case and Rowan would reappear from a building alcove or alley. He could picture his guard's tussled hair and disheveled appearance and would've enjoyed teasing him about it immensely if the dreadful possibilities weren't plaguing his mind.

Had Anton snapped and come after Rowan for revenge? Was it some aggravated protestor who saw his guard as a bloodthirsty beast, as they claimed all vampires were?

Or worse, one of Oscar Liszt's clan.

Julien could kick himself. Why did he push his guard away?

He backtracked, taking lighter but longer strides, hoping to catch even the faintest of noises or movements. Surely, he couldn't have gone far.

A grunt and the sounds of someone sharpening a knife stopped Julien short. He jerked his head to the right, where a dark, narrow alleyway stood, almost unsuspecting if Julien hadn't been on high alert.

What little blood remained in his system ran cold as he sneaked a glance around the corner—the masked and hooded figures from before. And bound by his hands at their feet with a knife directed at his throat, Rowan looked his most vulnerable.

Julien rested his head against the cool stone of the building behind him, trying to gather enough of his thoughts to develop a plan. He couldn't take them all on in a fight, but his coercion would have to be enough. It had to.

He drew a long breath, honing his focus before rounding the corner, purposely dragging his feet on the ground for them to hear him. Behind the female ringleader stood three goons, one sharpening a knife, the two others leaning against a wall behind Rowan's hunched form.

Summoning every inch of resolve, Julien let coercion seep into every syllable. "Let him go," he demanded, narrowing his eyes at the female vampire who held the knife at his guard's throat.

She raised a curious brow at him, slightly turning to acknowledge him. Except neither the knife nor the grip on Rowan had any hint of letting go. She was likely older than him, but even if she had, there was no way she couldn't hear him or at least feel the faintest hint of the command.

Julien refused to let her indifference shake him. He ground his teeth and stared her down, but his eyes drifted to his exhausted and kneeling guard to the left. There were no visible injuries, but it was impossible to tell in this lighting. He needed to play this smart, or that wouldn't be the case soon.

"Let him go," he ushered out again, his coercion not as convincing as the last—more a plead than a command.

"And who are you to be making demands?" She teased. "Your commands are weak even for a fledgling."

She was goading him, he knew, but desperation clouded his judgment. Rowan glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, barely able to turn his head with her knife in place.

Julien could make out the unspoken suggestion even from where he stood. Do not engage.

But what little choice did he have?

"He's a royal guard," he said firmly, despite his shaking hands. "You harm him, and the entire Rosenthal clan will hunt you down."

A dangerous look crossed her face. "That is if we don't burn you all to the ground. We are not to be underestimated, naive little one."

We? While there were four of them here, she must've implied that there were more of them. Julien narrowed his eyes but would worry about that later. "You would threaten an entire clan?"

"Threaten? More like a promise, princeling." She tilted her head toward Rowan, tapping her knife against his cheek. The lack of reaction, even a flinch, left an unsettling feeling in Julien's stomach. Even more than knowing she recognized him. "Now, be a dear and listen closely lest I decide your guard isn't worth my mercy after all."

Her lips raised in a sinister smirk. Without batting an eye, she commanded effortlessly, "Halt."

It took barely a millisecond for her coercion to work. Julien's legs turned to stone, and his upper limbs were just as stiff. Trapped in his skin, Julien could do nothing but watch as she slid the tip of the blade under Rowan's neck down to the base of his throat. A thin red line appeared.

He couldn't yell even if he wanted to, her command affecting even his tongue, and he was sure the command had affected Rowan, too.

He couldn't trust the female but only hoped she'd keep her word.

The female leaned until her lips hovered by Rowan's ear. Julien couldn't hear her, but whatever she did say elicited a response from Rowan finally. His hands clenched behind his back, and his eyes lifted to meet her gaze defiantly.

Her dangerous smirk grew as she took a calculated step back from Rowan. And just as Julien thought she'd put her knife away, she lunged forward with impossible speed. Her knife vanished into Rowan's upper body, hilt exposed, but it was impossible to tell from Julien's angle where it had landed.

NO, the scream Julien wished to shout fell on deaf ears with her command still in place.

She yanked the blade out, wiping the blood on Rowan's uniform before unceremoniously shoving him over. His head landed with a resounding thud on the dirty alley floor, body limp.

She stood over him as if hesitating on her next course of action before sheathing her knife and gesturing to her crew. She didn't turn back to Julien as if to add insult to injury, disregarding him like some insignificant scum who posed no threat at all.

Julien tried to glimpse the hooded figures' faces but couldn't get anything out of them. Even the female vampire had her hair tied behind her; it was impossible to say if her hair was a distinct color. But with each step they took away from him and Rowan, Julien's anxiety and fears for his guard's health distracted him from trying to remember anything from his attackers.

His voice returned as they left his sightline, but his legs would hardly budge. "Rowan!" He could care less if someone else had heard him. He needed to know where she had stabbed him. "Answer me, please."

With no response, Julien fought against the command, his arms sluggishly moving again. He reached for his right leg, trying to pry it from its spot. "Rowan?"

As if someone had cut a taut rope, Julien's lower body finally belonged to him again, his knees giving out and falling hard against the pavement. Practically crawling to his guard, Julien's hands shook as they reached for his shoulder. Blood pooled underneath him, soaking through his clothes. He couldn't find the wound immediately, but he saw enough sense to cut his bound wrists before turning him on his back. Despite the unsettling feeling of Rowan's blood on his hands, he peeled his clothes as best he could before finding the stab wound on his left shoulder.

Julien could almost cry from relief. It hadn't been fatal; it hadn't been anywhere near his vital organs. While vampire pulses were faint, he could detect one on him.

While the question of why she had spared him would haunt him, he relished in the moment that he was alive. Unconscious and likely concussed. But alive.

The amount of blood was unsettling, though. Most wounds typically started healing on their own, especially with a clean stab as the lady had. It appeared to be an amount of blood a human would spill.

As the initial shock wore off, Julien's mind cleared and noticed other things. What he thought was the rank smell of the alley before him seemed to stem from the blood beneath them, not the air or the trash nearby.

He held up his hand to his face, the warm blood on his fingertips under his nose, and grimaced—rancid and sour.

Rowan had blood at the Capillary. While only a sip or two, a simple stab wound wouldn't have left him rendered this incapacitated. He never consumed much blood in the first place and could handle himself well under those conditions.

Had Anton tampered with it?

He cursed, pushing the thought aside as he took in his surroundings. Not a soul was around, and without a direct way to contact Felix, his guard, or anyone else, Julien had to figure out how to get his guard to the infirmary at the estate. He wasn't strong enough to carry Rowan on his own.

"Rowan?" Julien nudged his non-injured shoulder. "We need to go."

When he didn't rouse, Julien begrudgingly let some coercion into his words. "Wake up."

Rowan's consciousness took in that order as slow as his breaths. Only the faintest of eye twitches confirmed Julien's power had worked. Julien eased a little more pressure onto his wound, finally earning a grimace on Rowan's face.

Slower than Julien liked, Rowan's eyes finally opened. With his other hand, Julien cupped his guard's cheek, waiting with bated breath for Rowan's eyes to focus on him. "You're wounded. Can you move?"

His guard blinked, his eyes trailing down the arm that pressed down on his shoulder. It lifted to meet Julien's face before staring off in the direction the assaulters had fled. Something flashed in his face before his abs flexed, attempting to sit up. With a grunt and Julien fretting over him, Rowan leaned against him with a labored breath. Julien ripped a piece of Rowan's already torn shirt to wrap around his shoulder, tying it haphazardly to staunch the blood.

"Easy," Julien whispered as he repositioned his arms to try and lift his guard from the bloody mess underneath them. After several failed attempts and using the wall behind him for support, Julien slung Rowan's undamaged arm over his shoulder.

They walked in relative silence, occasionally stopping to let Rowan catch his breath before heading toward the estate. Each step felt like a mile while bearing Rowan's weight.

"Who were those people?" Julien broke the silence. "Working for Anton? Someone else?"

His thoughts were a mess. He didn't dare ask the scary questions. Why had they spared Rowan's life when she could've easily killed him? What did she have against him and the Rosenthals? What were they scheming?

"It couldn't have been the Coalition; she's a vamp. Likely, those losers were, too. But why?" Julien continued to sort his thoughts as they passed another building. "And if Anton did that to the blood, then—"

He stopped, nearly toppling over with Rowan's weight. He wouldn't do that to the entire blood supply, surely? That would burn too many bridges to return unless it was as it appeared. The humans are being dragged to the blood banks by hooded figures like the lady and her goons. A female vampire with powerful coercion. Poisoning the blood of the main blood supply. Blood supply that goes directly to the estate and many other powerful households.

It couldn't be that obvious, could it?

But if it could render Rowan debilitated with even a sip...

"Fuck." Julien squeezed Rowan tighter to him. Of all people to stumble on the making of a social and political catastrophe, it had to have been him. No one would believe him, not when he had escaped a mastermind's clutches.

He needed to return quickly and warn the others. But what if the blood was already tampered with? Could he even trust it? He didn't even know how it was being poisoned. Was it fed to the humans before extracting or infused after?

If it reached Ivan or any of his older siblings, what would that do if not bring down an entire family line? He could imagine his mother taking a sip upon her throne, the glass falling to the floor as Ivan wondered who'd betrayed them.

Would he blame a staff member or his children?

Was it being delivered to his other sibling's estates, too? Each province would fall into chaos with the deaths of his siblings. Would they even believe such a crazy scheme could befall them?