The Last Heir of the Forbidden Family

The Price of Submission

Chapter 9: The Price of Submission

Kenji didn't have to shake him. Dorian was already upright, his eyes snapping open as the low hum in the bunker’s walls seemed to vibrate through his skull. He wiped a hand across his forehead, feeling the slick dampness of a cold sweat that wouldn't go away.

"I heard that," Dorian whispered, his voice dry. "I heard you talking about the turkeys."

Kenji didn't look back as he checked his spare magazines. "Turkeys have it easy, kid. At least they get a feast before the axe. We don't even have snacks left."

"We’re doing this now?" Dorian asked, looking at Seraphine. She stood in the center of the cramped space, silhouetted by the violet glow of her terminal. She looked lethal, beautiful, and—for the first time—honestly terrified.

"We have to," Seraphine said. She walked toward him, her boots clicking softly on the concrete. "If we don't mute that signal, Dorian, they’ll be on us before the coffee gets cold. I need to ground you. Now."

Dorian stood up, his legs feeling like they were made of cooling wax. "Ground me. Right. You mentioned a kiss? Or a shared blood thing? How does this work exactly? Is there a form I need to sign first?"

"No forms," Seraphine said, stopping inches from him. He could smell her scent again—the jasmine and rain—intertwined with the sharp metallic tang of his own raw energy. "And it’s not exactly a storybook kiss, Dorian. You have more power in you than your body can handle. When we connect, I’m basically acting as a biological fuse. You’ll feel it as a drain. I’ll feel it as... well, everything."

"Everything?" Dorian swallowed hard. "That sounds like a lot for a first date."

"Focus, Dorian," she said, her voice dropping to a persuasive hum. "I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

Dorian looked at Kenji, who was pointedly staring at his gun. "Trust is a really high-end concept for me right now, Seraphine. Especially since I know your dad wants to turn me into a collection of glass vials."

Seraphine flinched, her eyes darting to the terminal she had just shut. "My father doesn't get to decide what happens here. I do. This is the only way to save your life. Do you want to live, or do you want to keep complaining about the paperwork?"

"I'd like to live," Dorian admitted. "Mostly so I can eventually ask for a raise at the warehouse."

"Then stay still," she whispered.

She reached up, her fingers cold against his jaw, and pulled him down. When her lips hit his, it wasn't the soft, romantic swell he’d seen in movies. It was a violent collision.

The moment their mouths met, a sharp, electric jolt tore through Dorian’s chest. He let out a muffled gasp against her lips as the golden heat in his veins suddenly found an exit. It felt like a floodgate had opened. The pressure in his ears vanished, replaced by a sudden, terrifying clarity.

Dorian’s hands gripped her waist instinctively, pulling her closer as the room seemed to tilt. "Wait," he groaned, his voice vibrating against her mouth. "Wait, it’s... it’s too much."

"Hold on," Seraphine breathed, her own voice shaky. "Don't pull away. Just... give it to me."

As the energy transferred, the Command—the deep, ancient power within his blood—seemed to recognize her as its intended vessel. Dorian felt a surge of possessive heat that had nothing to do with magic. He could feel her pulse under her skin, feel the way her lungs expanded, feel the literal hunger in her throat.

Seraphine’s eyes fluttered, her pupils dilating until they almost swallowed the violet. "Oh god," she whispered, her hands clawing into his shoulders. "Dorian, what are you doing to me?"

"I’m not doing anything!" he panted, breaking the kiss but staying inches from her face. "You said you were grounding it!"

"I am," she said, her chest heaving. "But your blood... it’s not just talking. It’s screaming. Every time you touch me, it feels like I’m standing in the sun. I can feel every nerve ending you have, Dorian. I can feel how much you don't trust me, and how much you... you actually want to."

"It’s weird, right?" Dorian said, his head spinning. "The feeling? It’s like we’re plugged into the same socket."

"It’s the connection," she said, her voice breathy. She leaned her forehead against his, her silver hair spilling over his hands. "It’s stabilizing. But... I can feel your heart. It’s so loud."

"Sorry," Dorian muttered. "It’s been a busy night."

"It’s okay," she said, looking up at him with a look that was dangerously close to tenderness. "It’s actually nice. It’s the first time I’ve felt warm in fifty years."

"You guys about done?" Kenji’s voice cut through the air like a serrated knife. "Because while you two were busy discovering the power of love, I’ve been busy looking at my encrypted logs."

Dorian stepped back, feeling a sudden, cold vacuum where Seraphine’s presence had been. "What’s up, Kenji? Did you find something?"

Kenji walked over, his face as hard as a gravestone. He held up a small, handheld tablet. "Yeah. I found something. I found out why those Shadow Walkers found us so fast. It wasn't your signal, kid."

Seraphine straightened up, her eyes narrowing back into their tactical sharpness. "What are you talking about? My wards were perfect."

"Wards don't matter when there’s a GPS tag on your heart, princess," Kenji spat. He tossed the tablet onto the cot. "Take a look at the trade frequencies. I intercepted a broad-spectrum burst five minutes ago. Someone from the Voss command center just opened a blind auction."

Dorian frowned, leaning over to look at the scrolling data. "A blind auction? For what? Rare stamps?"

"For you, Dorian," Kenji said, his voice flat. "Your location. Your signature frequency. Everything. House Voss just sold the 'Ardent Asset' location to the Malphas, the Fenris, and the Council. Simultaneously."

Seraphine’s face went ash-pale. "No. That’s impossible. My father wouldn't... he wants him for the vials."

"Maybe he realized he couldn't keep him safe long enough to drain him," Kenji suggested. "Or maybe he decided a multi-billion dollar distraction was better than a single battery. Either way, every monster in this city just got a map to our front door."

"I didn't know," Seraphine whispered, her eyes fixed on Dorian. "Dorian, look at me. I swear on my life, I had no idea he’d sell you out like this."

"I know," Dorian said, but his voice lacked conviction. "But that doesn't really change the fact that people are coming to kill us, does it?"

"We have to move," Kenji barked, grabbing a duffel bag and throwing it at Dorian. "We have maybe three minutes before this place is crawling with every goon with a dental plan and a set of fangs."

"Where are we going to go?" Dorian asked, frantically stuffing a spare pair of socks and the photo of his parents into the bag. "If they have my signature, won't they just follow us?"

"The preliminary Rite should have muffled it enough," Seraphine said, her voice regaining its strength as she checked her daggers. "But Kenji is right. We need to leave before they establish a hard perimeter."

"Wait," Dorian said, freezing as a low, deep vibration began to hum through the floorboards. "Is that the wind?"

Kenji drew his pistol, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "That ain't wind, kid. That’s a thermobaric breaching charge."

"Oh god," Seraphine hissed, her eyes glowing purple. "They're already here."

"I thought you said three minutes!" Dorian yelled.

"Guess they were eager," Kenji grunted. "Get behind the workbench!"

"Kenji, wait!" Dorian shouted. "If everyone is outside, how do we—"

BOOM.

The bunker door didn't just open; it was punched inward by a massive, concentrated blast of kinetic force. The heavy steel groaned as it buckled, flying across the room and crushing Kenji’s workbench into kindling.

A thick, grey smoke began to pour into the room, lit from behind by the glare of high-intensity floodlights. Through the haze, a dozen figures began to descend—tall, uniformed men in sleek, matte-black tactical gear. They moved with a military precision that was far beyond any gang or pack.

"The Cleaners," Seraphine whispered, her voice trembling. "My father’s personal guard."

One man stepped through the center of the squad. He wasn't wearing tactical gear. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit, his hands folded neatly over the silver head of a walking stick. His eyes were amber, glowing with a serene, terrifying intelligence.

"Good evening, children," Augustin Voss said, his voice carrying clearly through the smoke. "I hope we aren't interrupting the honeymoon."

"Dad," Seraphine said, stepping in front of Dorian, her daggers extended. "You’re making a mistake."

"The mistake was thinking you could hide him from me, Seraphine," Augustin said, his gaze moving to Dorian. "You look much better now, boy. Not as jittery. I assume the girl did her job?"

"I'm not an 'it,'" Dorian said, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and the lingering gold in his veins. "And I’m not going with you."

"Oh, you are," Augustin smiled, a movement that held no warmth. "But first, I think we need to clear the room. Gentlemen? Remove the distractions."

The Cleaners raised their weapons.

"Dorian, get down!" Kenji roared, lunging forward.

"Wait!" Dorian screamed, but he wasn't just shouting. He felt the golden hum inside him spike again, reacting to the threat.

The air in the bunker thickened. Time seemed to drag. Dorian looked at Augustin, at the man who had ordered his family’s death, and he felt the fire in his chest turn from a flicker into a furnace.

"I said," Dorian growled, his voice deepening until the floor vibrated. "STAY. BACK."

The Command hit the Cleaners like a physical wall. Two of them were thrown backward into the wall, their masks cracking. But Augustin just stood there, his hair barely moving in the blast of energy.

"Interesting," Augustin noted, tilting his head. "A little raw, but powerful. We’re going to have so much to talk about in the lab, Doria

n."

He tapped his cane on the floor.

"Kill the Hunter," Augustin ordered. "Apprehend the girl. And bring me the King."