The Price of Power

Blood still clung to Rio—matted in his dark curls, soaked into the collar of his shirt, caked beneath his jagged nails. The metallic taste of it coated his tongue, sharp and sweet like lightning trapped in his mouth. Strength buzzed in his bones like a storm barely restrained.

 

Behind him, Le Sang Vert fell into stunned silence.

 

Predators leaned back in their booths, eyes sharp as razors. Some watched him with curiosity. Some with calculation. But more than a few… with hunger.

 

He didn’t stay to hear the whispers. He shoved the heavy club door open, the music still pulsing behind him like a dying heartbeat.

 

Odessa followed, heels ticking over wet cobblestones like a metronome. She lit a cigarette with steady hands and a satisfied smirk.

 

“You’ve got a mean streak, sugar,” she said, exhaling smoke. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

 

Rio didn’t stop walking. Blood ran in rivulets from his knuckles, healing over slowly.

 

“Why?” he asked without turning. “Why throw me in like that?”

 

Odessa shrugged, eyes gleaming beneath streetlight haze. “You were drowning. I gave you gills.”

 

⸻

 

Weeks passed.

 

Odessa stayed.

 

She trained him with the precision of someone who’d seen a hundred fledglings die from recklessness. She taught him to track by scent, to silence his steps, to control the fire that bloomed in his gut when prey bled nearby. She showed him how to pull back just before the hunger took over.

 

“You’re fast,” she muttered one night as he darted between cypress roots, moving too quiet, too smooth.

 

“Maybe I was made for this,” Rio replied, eyes glowing golden in the moonlight.

 

“No one’s made for this,” she said under her breath. But he wasn’t supposed to hear that part.

 

She warned him not to dig too deep into vampire politics. He didn’t want to listen. He wanted to know everything.

 

“You’re not like the others,” she said one morning, wiping blood from her collarbone.

 

Rio just smiled, feral and hungry. “I guess not.”

 

But the closer he came to understanding his new world, the further Odessa drifted. The fire in her cooled to something measured. Her gaze was harder to read.

 

She didn’t like what she’d created. Or maybe, she liked it too much.

 

⸻

 

It was the alley that changed everything.

 

Rio had just left the back entrance of a bar after a dead-end meeting with a mid-level faction lackey. His shirt still smelled like bourbon and cheap smoke.

 

Then the scent hit him—sharp, sweet blood, unmasked and panicked.

 

He followed it instinctively, slipping down the narrow passage behind the bar where rainwater ran in sluggish streams through broken concrete.

 

A girl was curled near the dumpster. Her knees were tucked to her chest, arms trembling, clothes damp with sweat and dirt. Her long golden-red hair stuck to her cheeks in messy tendrils. Even under grime and fear, her face looked delicate—almost fairy-tale soft. High cheekbones. A fragile jaw. Freckles barely visible through the pallor.

 

But her eyes caught him hardest—wide, bright emerald, and glowing faintly in the dark like some kind of cosmic phenomenon.

 

“Please…” she whimpered, voice cracking. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

 

She wasn’t feral, not yet. But she was close. And no one else had found her yet. Thank God.

 

Rio knelt slowly, hands open.

 

“Hey. You’re okay. What’s your name?”

 

She blinked. “Juniper. But everyone calls me Junie.”

 

“Junie,” he said gently. “You’re not dying. You’re turning. I know how it feels.”

 

“I didn’t want this,” she whispered. “I don’t even remember who—”

 

“You don’t need to remember right now,” he said. “You need to come with me. You’re not safe here.”

 

She hesitated, body shivering, until his hand touched hers—warm, steady, real.

 

He should’ve walked away. Should’ve called someone more experienced. But something in her eyes… it reminded him of the boy he was before Odessa found him. Scared. Alone. Forgotten.

 

He helped her up.

 

⸻

 

The bait shop became a haven.

 

Odessa rolled her eyes when she saw Junie curled in a corner with a blanket and a bag of donated blood.

 

“Great,” she muttered. “You picked up a stray.”

 

“She needed help,” Rio said simply.

 

“She needs a leash.”

 

Still, Odessa didn’t leave.

 

She stayed and watched.

 

Rio taught Junie everything Odessa had drilled into him—but softer, slower. He let her cry when the hunger made her feel inhuman. Let her feed on animals when she couldn’t stomach the real thing. Odessa mocked it, but Rio knew Junie wasn’t weak.

 

She just hadn’t been hardened yet.

 

“You’re too sweet for this world, Junie,” he told her once after she apologized for refusing to drink from a rabbit.

 

She smiled weakly. “Maybe that’s why I need you.”

 

⸻

 

Odessa didn’t say anything the night Junie first stood her ground in a sparring session.

 

But she watched. Closely.

 

Later, she cornered Rio alone.

 

“She’s not going to make it,” she said. “Not with that bleeding heart.”

 

“She’s learning.”

 

“She’s soft.”

 

“She’s kind,” he snapped. “And I’m not letting that be a weakness.”

 

Odessa’s eyes flared. “You’re not her savior, sugar. You’re still barely keeping yourself together.”

 

But she didn’t stop training them. If anything, her lessons got sharper. Meaner. More precise.

 

Junie pushed through. Quiet. Determined.

 

⸻

 

The tension finally snapped when Odessa arrived one night with a single name on her lips.

 

“Cassian Duval.”

 

Rio stiffened. “Who?”

 

“Her sire,” Odessa said coolly. “Elder. Rich. Sadistic. He’s looking for his little lost lamb.”

 

Junie paled. “That’s who—?”

 

Odessa nodded. “He doesn’t like losing what’s his. Especially not to a nobody like you.”

 

Rio stepped in front of Junie. “Then he’ll be disappointed.”

 

“You really think you can take him on?” Odessa asked, amused. “You’re still cutting your teeth, sugar.”

 

“I’ll die before I let him touch her.”

 

Odessa stared at him for a long, silent moment. Then something unreadable flickered across her face.

 

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she muttered, tossing a small knife on the table. 

Junie didn’t sleep. She sat curled on the couch, knees hugged tight. Moonlight turned her tangled hair to a halo.“She hates me,” she whispered.

“She doesn’t,” Rio said, eyes fixed on the window. “She hates what you represent.”

“And what’s that?”

“Something she can’t be.”

Two nights later, shadows moved in the swamp. Smooth. Too fast to be human. Cassian’s scouts.

“They’re close,” Rio said, loading his revolver. The click echoed in the tense quiet.

“Maybe we should run.”

“They’ll follow. Better to stand our ground.”

Junie’s hands trembled. “I’m not ready.”

“You will be.”

Odessa returned without knocking, boots tracking mud.“You’ve got an hour before Cassian’s hounds sniff you out.”

“Why are you here?” Rio asked.

“Maybe I like you. Maybe I don’t like him enough to let him win.”

She tossed a vial of thick, dark liquid onto the table.“Drink. It’ll give you a boost.”

Junie reached for it, but Odessa’s hand clamped tight on her wrist.“Not you, cherie. Him. Little thing like you wouldn’t survive it.”

Rio stepped between them. “Enough.”

Odessa’s eyes flashed.“Careful. You don’t get to talk to me like that. Not yet.”

The attack came like a storm.

Cassian’s fledglings ripped into the bait shop—claws, teeth, snarls.

Rio fought with precision, every strike calculated. When one fledgling broke through, Junie acted on instinct. Her fangs tore into his throat—her first kill.

When the dust settled, blood slicked the floorboards.

Odessa leaned in the shadows, arms crossed.“Not bad for a fledgling.”

But her gaze on Junie was sharp. Cold.

As she turned to leave, her voice curled back like smoke.“You’ve made your choice clear, sugar. Her.”

Rio frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Odessa’s laugh was soft. Dangerous.“You can’t have both.”

The door slammed.

The bait shop smelled of blood. Not fresh—stale, metallic. It clung to the cracked wood floors like a memory that wouldn’t wash away.

Rio sat at the table, cleaning his blade for the third time though it gleamed like glass.

Junie curled in the corner, knees pulled to her chest. She hadn’t spoken much since the fight.

And Odessa? She lounged in the doorway, golden hoops swaying, a cigarette smoldering between her fingers. Her presence filled the room like smoke—thick and suffocating.

“Cassian won’t wait much longer,” she said lazily. “You embarrassed him, sugar. Men like that don’t forgive easy.”

“Then let him come.” Rio’s voice was ice.

The sharpness made Junie flinch.

Odessa’s dark eyes flicked to her, then back to Rio. A smile curled her lips.“She’s soft. Too soft for this world.”

“She’s tougher than you think,” Rio said evenly.

“Is she?” Odessa pushed off the wall, boots clicking on the boards. She moved toward Junie like a predator.“Tell me, cherie… could you kill again? Rip out a man’s throat while he begs you to stop?”

Junie’s lips parted, but no sound came. Her amber eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“Didn’t think so.” Odessa straightened.

Rio’s chair scraped back. “Leave her alone.”

Odessa raised a brow, amused. “Oh? Protecting her feelings now?”

She circled Rio, finger trailing across his shoulder.“I’m trying to prepare her. You want her to survive, don’t you?”

“I’ll prepare her.” His voice cut like steel.

Odessa’s smile turned razor-thin. “You think you can play teacher now? Cute. Let’s see how long you last when Cassian himself shows up.”

The nights blurred into drills and exhaustion. Midnight sessions in the swamps. Strike. Dodge. Feed—then stop before losing control.

“You can’t hesitate,” Rio barked when Junie froze mid-spar. “Hesitation will get you killed.”

“I don’t want to be like them,” she whispered. “Cold. Dead inside.”

“You don’t have to be,” he said softly. “But you have to survive first.”

Odessa watched from the shadows, arms crossed.“Sweet,” she drawled when Rio caught her staring. “You’re making a little pet out of her.”

“She’s not a pet.”

“Then what is she? A fledgling? A distraction?”

Rio didn’t answer.

The bait shop was too small for three predators. Odessa was fire—wild, consuming. Junie was ash—fragile, drifting. And Rio? He hovered somewhere between, pulled in both directions.

At night, Odessa whispered promises of power.“You’ve got the makings of a king, sugar. You don’t need the girl. She’s an anchor.”

But Junie’s quiet kindness kept tugging him back.“You’re still you,” she said one night. “I can see it.”

For the first time, Rio let himself believe she might be right.

The next night, Odessa’s cold hand on his shoulder woke him.“She’s gone.”

Rio shot upright, heart pounding.“What do you mean gone?”

“Your little stray. She left. And I’m guessing… she didn’t go far.”

Outside, the swamp pulsed with sound—crickets, frogs, something heavier.

Then a voice rolled through the dark—deep, mocking.“RIO.”

Cassian.

Junie’s scream split the night.