Present day
Estevan
I shoot awake, a familiar pain in my chest. The vivid dream is a recurring torture my mind likes to play on a reel.
I should have said no. She was so hopeful. I only wanted to please her. I’m the reason she died that night. She trusted me, and I let her down, leaving her to pay the ultimate price.
I’m a monster, and I’ll always be a monster. who’s meant to die alone.
“Estevan!”
I snap back to reality. Jacob is calling me.
“We have a lead on Celeste, but we have to go before it’s dark. Are you good here?”
“Right as rain. I’ll find you if you’re not back before dark.”
Jacob nods, and I lean back from the light. My eyes are always sensitive to the glow from the hallway in the day.
“Sounds good. We’ll- never mind. You’ll find it easier by transporting.”
He shuts the door, and I lay back on the pillow. I often transport when they’re gone. Me and Jacob share a link made long ago. Being the only nocturnal in the group is lonely. I often wake to an empty home. Pair that with my age, quiet nature, and the massive chip on my shoulder; so, they say. It makes a perfect recipe for a life of solitude.
Vampires are nearly extinct. Fresh bloods don’t count. They die off in the first year. It’s a sickness you get for drinking from the flesh made by the angels. I don’t know of any vampires turned in the last century that could resist the flesh. The last true vampire I saw was in Siberia, and he was happy to be alone.
I miss her every day and hate myself more and more as the years pass. I won’t sleep again. I never could after those dreams.
I get up and reach behind the desk, and retrieve my sketches. I open to the drawing of her from that night. Years of wear mar the tiny details, but when I close my eyes, they reappear. There are many things I regret, but they all cannot compare to the one I made that day. The image changes, and I see her bleeding out on the ground. Her eyes plead for me to save her, but I’m useless to do a thing.
“CHRIST!”
II throw the book in a rage and pull the whisky from my drawer. My dreams and memories seem to chase me more and more as the years pass. I pray for a death that won’t come, and I’m too much of a coward to end my misery. Maybe it’s fear I’ll fail that stops me, or maybe I believe if I save enough lives, I can make a mends. That’s foolishness. Nothing can fix what’s been done.
The day passes slow like most. When the sun sets, I sift.
YOU ARE READING
Finding Amber (Book 5) Jacobs Broken Mercenaries
RomanceEstevan is always on the outside looking in. Centuries-old and with a sordid past, he doesn't fit in anywhere. The crew finds him odd and intimidating, not to mention he's the only vampire around; they're a dying breed. When another vampire makes hi...
