“Now.” Sara positioned herself with the gun next to the two men and faced Victoria. “You have two hours to bring the ring to Lilith, if indeed it does exist. I need not tell you to come alone, need I?”
“And if I bring the ring, then you will give me Max and Kritanu?” Victoria asked, knowing full well that Lilith would never willingly release Max.
“You need not be so greedy. You may choose one of them to free, in exchange for the ring. Although I cannot guarantee either of them will remain unscathed. Two hours is quite a long time.” She smiled again and, as before, she seemed calm and lucid. Not a hint of madness. Just cold calculation. “And the old man is likely to attract quite a bit of attention upon arrival.”
The message was clear, and Victoria’s stomach contracted. The vampires would be on Kritanu the moment he arrived. She looked at Max and read the comprehension in his expression. He, on the other hand, would be relatively safe.
Until Lilith got her hands—and fangs—on him.
Victoria’s mouth dried. The determination on his face told her he would use the silver ring at the first opportunity. Even before she had a chance to arrive with an item to barter. And even then . . . it was impossible to believe that Lilith would release all of them, even for the ring.
“Take me instead,” Victoria said, suddenly calm. She was the one who wore two vis bullae; she was the one best equipped to hold off the vampire queen. She was the one fighting for her soul. And the one who knew of the secret passageway. “Take me to Lilith.”
“No!” The single syllable exploded in tandem from Max and Sebastian.
But Victoria ignored them, even as Sebastian jolted the table and chair to which he was bound, trying to use brute force to pull free. She looked at Sara. “I am more valuable than he is,” she said with a nod at Max. “He’s useless and weak now. Lilith won’t want him without his power. And I am Illa Gardella.”
Sara was staring at her, consideration lighting her eyes. “An interesting idea.”
“Victoria, no!” Sebastian jerked harder at the table. A pool of blood splattered to the floor. “Don’t be a fool. Victoria.” His last word was an agonized command, and it rang there in the room, in the taut silence that had descended.
Then . . . “Damn you,” Max said. Very quietly, as though he had no breath. His eyes were black pits, and she could see the renewed tension in his arms as he steadied Kritanu there. “You cannot . . . be so foolish.”
“I cannot retrieve the ring without your assistance,” Sebastian added suddenly. “You must come with me. I’m too weak to get to it.”
Victoria could see the calculation in Sara’s eyes, could fairly hear her mind whirring. Which would put her in the best favor with Lilith, which combination had the highest likelihood of obtaining the greatest leverage . . .
Refusing to look at either of her two comrades, Victoria waited.
“If you are so eager to be traded for them,” said Sara at last, looking at her with a delighted gleam in her eyes, “then I am content that you will indeed come, bearing the ring. And at that time, I’m certain we can accommodate your wishes to be traded.” Her dimple flashed. “You have two hours.”
Victoria looked directly at Max, though her words were meant for Sara. “I will bring the ring. I’ll be there.”
After Sara and George left, with Max carrying his burden between them, Victoria returned to Sebastian’s side to cut away his restraints. Long before he was loose, his unmaimed hand whipped out to grab her arm. “What in the bloody hell did you think you were doing?” he said, gripping hard, shaking her. “How could you do such a thing?”
“It didn’t work, did it?” she replied sharply, still cutting ferociously.
My God, they had been taking no chances with him getting free. The bonds were so tight, she was surprised he could breathe. And all the blood, oozing from his skin. Her stomach twisted, remembering the look in Sara’s eyes. She would have butchered each of them, piece by piece. She released Sebastian’s left hand, bloody and missing half of the last finger. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian.” She raised it to her face and his fingers closed around her hand.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “She didn’t get the parts that matter.” His smile was a bit lopsided, but genuine all the same. “Merely a badge of my long-questioned heroism.” He looked up at her, his ravaged face already showing a mottle of bruising. “You don’t really mean to bring the ring.”
“Of course I do, Sebastian!” She was horrified that he would even suggest such a thing that she stepped away. “I should have gone in the first place.”
“Are you addled? You’re Illa Gardella!” He pulled to his feet more smoothly than she’d expected, standing over her. His eyes burned golden as he took her shoulders. “What will happen to the Venators if you’re killed, or captured? You can’t.” He wrapped her against him, smelling of blood and sweat and Sebastian. “You can’t.”
“And as such it is my duty to protect.” They bumped the chair. A leather restraint fell to the floor with a soft whump as those words echoed in her mind.
Duty to protect.
Indeed . . . a duty to protect even when it wasn’t easy. When the choice wasn’t simple. In fact, when the choice was impossible. That was what mattered.
Could she do it? Could she be selfless in protecting the mortals she was charged to save? Even one for whom she might be bound by hatred and loathing?
It had been easy . . . so easy . . . to offer herself for Max and Kritanu. She’d seen the flash of expression on Max’s face when Sara produced the gun: sick with fear. He’d known his fate then. Not fear that he would die, but knowledge that Lilith would have him once again. And this time, without the strength and power of his vis bulla to help him fight her thrall.
Victoria knew that Kritanu would not last. Lilith had no use for him, and the blood would be too much for the vampires to resist. When Kritanu was dead, would Max use the silver ring to join him? She had to get there before he did.
Sebastian seemed to read her thoughts. “Victoria, Kritanu is as good as dead. And so is Pesaro. He’ll make certain of it himself.”
“Where is the ring?”
He sighed, tightening his arms, and then released her. His damaged hand smoothed along her cheek as he tried to smile. But it faltered. His fingers trembled. “I knew better than to hope you’d listen to me. This is who you are. This is who you’ve become: changed from the selfish, superficial Society girl, poorly disguised in man’s clothes and playing at a double life . . . to this. And . . . I love who you are, Victoria. I’ve never met a more fascinating, intelligent woman.”