A sharp snap of fingers right in front of Maverick's face jolted him back to reality.
He turned to his right and saw Willie, already astride his horse, riding alongside him. Maverick was on his own steed, the reins loose in his fingers.
"Don't go drifting off into your thoughts," Willie said, his voice stern. "We're about to ride out to where Julius is. Keep your guard up."
Maverick gave a slight nod, followed by a faint grunt. His gaze dropped to his hand, fingers curled tightly around the leather strap.
All around him, soldiers bustled—armor clinking, horses snorting, commands being shouted. The energy was high, the formation tense.
Yet Maverick felt utterly alone.
He didn't belong here. Not among them.
Since waking from that unnatural sleep—told he'd been turned into a vampire by the Vampire King, only to be restored to humanity because Julius had given him his silver blood—nothing had made sense.
