Chapter XX: The Interrogation

Luke sat rigid in the cold metal chair, his wrists resting loosely on the table, though his hands remained clenched into fists. The walls around him were bare, a suffocating gray, and the only source of light buzzed faintly from above, casting shadows beneath his eyes.

Then, the door opened.

Two men entered—one older, one younger.

The first was a hardened figure with short, graying hair and deep lines etched into his face. His uniform was pristine, black with golden accents, the insignia of a high-ranking officer on his chest. General Hatch. His presence carried an air of command, of cold efficiency.

The second man, Sergeant James, was younger, sharp-eyed, and restless, his fingers drumming against the table before he even sat down. Unlike the general, he lacked patience.

Hatch sat first, placing a folder on the table, while James leaned forward, staring Luke down as if he were a puzzle waiting to be cracked.

Then came the first words.

“What is your name?”

Luke met the general’s eyes. “Luke.”

There was no hesitation, no embellishment. Just cold, simple truth.

Hatch nodded, expression unreadable. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

The questions continued, Hatch maintaining a steady, methodical rhythm.

“Where were you born?”

“San Diego.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“A place that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Hatch’s lips pressed together slightly, but he moved on. “And after the collapse?”

“Survived.” Luke’s voice was flat, devoid of detail.

The general studied him for a moment. Then, he shifted in his chair.

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“And how did you end up in vampire captivity?”

The words cut through the air like a blade.

For the first time, Luke hesitated.

The memories clawed at him. The mansion. The screams in the night. The weight of a collar around his neck. The feeling of being less than human.

His jaw tightened. Then, he spoke.

“The mansion was a prison.” He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. “A place where humans were taken and branded, stripped of names, identities—reduced to nothing but livestock. We weren’t just workers. We weren’t just slaves. We were food.”

Sergeant James stiffened slightly but said nothing.

Luke continued. “The vampires who ran it—monsters. Butchers. They didn’t just rule over us. They played with us. Broke us. And the pets—” His voice faltered, just for a second. “They were treated worse than dogs. Owned. Used. Some were discarded when they were no longer entertaining enough.”

A shadow flickered across Hatch’s face. But he didn’t interrupt.

Luke’s mind drifted to Maria. Anya. Lexie.

To the way Michael would mock them. To Jake, swearing he’d protect them.

To the countless faces he would never see again.

His fingers dug into his palm.

Hatch leaned forward slightly, his tone quieter now. “And the Arch Vampire who ruled it?”

Luke’s expression darkened. “Valerius Duskborne.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Hatch asked, “What do you know of his powers?”

Luke exhaled. “Shadows. Darkness itself bends to his will. He can peel the flesh from a man’s bones without lifting a finger. I’ve seen it happen.”

Hatch’s grip on the table tightened.

“And the others?”

“They all had their own abilities. Mind control. Strength. Speed. Some could command fire. Others could break bones without touching you. But Valerius… he was different. The others feared him.”

Hatch nodded slowly, absorbing the information.

Then his gaze flicked downward—to Luke’s wrist. To the number branded into his skin.

“Tell me about your designation.”

Luke swallowed, shifting his arm slightly but not hiding it.

“We weren’t given names. Just numbers. Just property. But we gave each other names. We tried to hold onto something human.”

There was something in the general’s eyes then. A flicker of something… like understanding.

But James? James was staring at him like a predator.

The sergeant leaned forward. “And your escape?”

Luke’s lips parted slightly.

Then, slowly, he said, “We used the ferals.”

The room seemed to drop in temperature.

Luke exhaled, recalling the night of chaos, blood, and fire.

“We made them turn against their masters. The vampires thought they had everything under control, but they were arrogant. The ferals broke free, and the mansion turned into a slaughterhouse.”

Hatch listened, nodding along. He already knew most of this—it was a test.

But James wasn’t convinced.

“You’re leaving something out.” His voice was sharp now, edged with suspicion.

Luke glanced at him but said nothing.

The sergeant’s fingers slammed against the table.

“You’re hiding something!”

Luke’s gaze snapped to his.

A storm raged beneath those cold green eyes.

He wasn’t hiding anything. Not really.

But there was one thing he hadn’t said.

One name.

Lord Malric.

The vampire who had given him the key.

The vampire who had let him go.

The vampire who had let him live.

Luke’s breath was steady.

He wasn’t going to lie.

But he wasn’t going to tell them everything, either.

Not yet.