Page 30 of Let Sleeping Vampires Lie

“Give us a number,” Con said.

Marcus met his eyes. “Anywhere from one to three days.”

Raven sucked in a quick breath. “Three days?” Her voice frayed at the edges. “Marcus, Rene may not have three days.”

“I’m sorry,” Marcus replied quietly. “But this isn’t something buyers can rush. If the seller thinks anyone is desperate or suspicious, they’ll pull the piece and vanish. And if they go underground, we might never find it again.”

His explanation wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make it easier to swallow.

“Meaning we’re stuck waiting,” I said, unable to hide my irritation.

Marcus nodded once. “Yes. Waiting and watching for the next message. But you should all go home. There’s no point staying here. I’ll contact you the second the instructions come in.”

A fresh wave of frustration rolled through me. The idea of sitting around while Rene’s life slipped away made my skin prickle with restless heat.

Raven paced toward the window, arms wrapped tightly around her torso as if holding herself together by sheer will. Through the bond, her fear pressed against me again—frantic, whispering in every beat.

Jana hovered near her mother, rubbing her arm gently. “Mom… it’s okay. Marcus said he’ll get the information. He wants to help.”

Raven didn’t answer. She stared out at the neon wash of city lights, her shoulders tense.

Isra, however, remained motionless on the couch.

When Marcus suggested we leave, his head lifted slowly, and I caught the hurt in his face, raw, unfiltered, impossible to hide behind glamour or glitter. His stunning gown shimmered as he shifted slightly, but the brilliance of it only emphasized how dim his expression had become.

“You think they should… go home?” he asked Marcus.

Marcus swallowed. “Not because I want them gone. But because nothing will happen until the sellers send the next message. And when they do, it’ll come to me first. I’ll handle it.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Isra said, voice rough. “You’re asking them to leave so we can talk.”

Marcus hesitated, then softly said, “Yes.”

It stunned me how openly Isra’s pain showed. He’d always been dramatic—deliberately so, but this wasn’t a performance. This was heartbreak.

He tried to mask it with a small smile, but the attempt collapsed. His lips trembled, and he looked at Raven with eyes shining under his false lashes.

“Could the rest of you give us a moment?” he asked.

He didn’t say please.

He didn’t need to.

Raven crossed to him instantly, kneeling beside the couch. “Isra… we don’t have to⁠—”

“I need to talk to him,” Isra said. “Alone.”

Marcus stood near the window, hands clasped tightly at his back, muscles visibly tense. He didn’t move to approach Isra, but he didn’t retreat either. He was facing what he had avoided until now.

Raven looked at me, searching for guidance. For permission. For strength.

I nodded and touched her shoulder. “He deserves this.”

Jana hugged her father gently before stepping back. Her cheeks were flushed with worry, and her wolf instincts wound tightly inside her expression.

Con watched quietly, jaw clenched, eyes flicking between Isra and Marcus with a warrior’s instinct—ready to intervene if emotions turned volatile. But he didn’t argue. He gave Isra the space he needed.

Raven stood and whispered to me, “I don’t want to leave him.”