As she leaned back against her seat, savoring the last of her favorite dessert, she closed her eyes to allow the cafe’s atmosphere and the dairy in her system to dull her system. Though, the combination of snow and dust in her system were fighting every single nerve ending she had. She found herself absolutely restless. Sable opened her eyes and huffed out a breath in annoyance. All she had wanted was an easy night at work, make a couple extra dollars to stuff in her pocket, and head home to her studio apartment. Well, if you could call it an apartment. It had walls and a door, a roof. Air mattress on the floor. It didn’t really matter to her- she didn’t spend much time in the place anyway.

It suddenly dawned on her: she could easily find a solution to both her abundance of energy and a place to crash for the night. Grabbing her phone to send a quick message, it dinged just as she was about to hit send. She raised an eyebrow at the text.

We need to talk in person. It’s urgent. - Z

Well. That was never good. Letting out a slow breath, she deleted her previous message and pushed her now empty bowl to the end of the table. At least she’d be able to stay at Zach’s, as she had many times before. Or, better yet, maybe she would have a quick word with the guy and still have time for her hook up. She brought the contact back up and typed out the request for a booty call as she drank the last of her water. When the message cleared, she looked up her best friend’s number and gave the guy a call. The moment he answered, she rose to her feet before heading to the door.

”Got your message. You home? I can be there in fifteen.” Sable’s eyes caught sight of a blue Suzuki GSX-R600 parked at the curb. A slow smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. ”Make that ten.”

“Step away from the motorcycle, Sable.”

Zachariah spoke into the landline without bothering to lift his eyes from the stack of documents spread across his dining table. He’d put her on speaker the moment he recognized her number, freeing his hands to continue the methodical sorting of his life into neat, organized piles.

Professional documents went to the left side of the table. Personal to the right. Things that needed shredding formed a growing mountain in the center.

He’d just finished responding to Wulde’s email—a careful, professional reply acknowledging that he understood if his colleague declined the sudden request. For now, Zachariah had explained, he wasn’t sure when he’d be available to discuss details further, so he’d be leaving power of attorney documents and office keys with his assistant. Said assistant had already received her own email with instructions that would probably have her questioning his sanity come morning.

“If you can walk here in fifteen, you don’t need to steal a ride to make it ten.” He plucked another file from the stack—one of his investigation reports he was working on for the Wardens—and dropped it onto the ‘Warden’ pile with a soft thud.

Her eyes immediately rolled at the voice on the other end of her phone. ”Who the hell died and made you the boss of me?”

She looked back at the bike in front of her and huffed out a breath in annoyance. Damn man. While Sable normally wouldn’t listen to anyone telling her no, she knew for certain that she’d get a long ass lecture if she went through with the steal. And that was absolutely the last thing she wanted to sit through right now.

As she turned and started the walk towards the man’s apartment, she kept her eyes out for nothing in particular that would be following her. ”Guess your news isn’t that damn urgent if you can wait for me to drag my perfect ass there.”

“There’s also this revolutionary concept called running. I hear it’s significantly faster than walking. If your perfect ass can’t handle that level of exertion, there’s also jogging. Or speed walking. Not as fast as running, but still quicker than a leisurely stroll.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, the familiar rhythm of their banter settling over him like a worn jacket. But the expression faded quickly, replaced by a heavier weight. This might be the last time they’d do this—trade barbs over the phone while she made her way to his apartment with whatever trouble she’d picked up that night.

His hand stilled on the next file folder.

“It is urgent... but I…” He paused, searching for the right words, something that wouldn’t sound like the goodbye it was. What came out instead was lame, inadequate. “I’m in no hurry.”

Zachariah forced himself back into motion and began moving the sorted stacks into their designated containers. Warden files went into a locked briefcase that would find its way back to headquarters. Reed Financial documents filled a banker’s box marked for his employees. A cardboard box addressed to his parents contained insurance policies, a copy of his most recent will, keys, everything they’d need when he was declared dead.

On the couch sat a duffel bag he packed for Sable—his stuff she’d been threatening to steal, crap she’d left in his apartment for some reason, the Tequila Fortaleza Blanco Still Strength she always complained he never shared.

“Were you out working?” he asked, voice carefully neutral as he sealed the parents box with tape.

She couldn’t help the small grin from stretching across her face at his retort. The man knew how to get under her skin, but he was also the only person in the world who she’d allow to speak to her in any sort of way. Well, one that wasn’t bedding her, at least. Sable never knew quite why their relationship never turned to one that didn’t require clothes. Something about the guy just resonated with her. In a world where she once felt incredibly alone, he was her only true solace.

At his next comment, she blinked at his hesitation. She rounded the corner before tilting her head in question. He sounded…different. What in the hell was so urgent that he could be in no hurry for? Had a job of his gone wrong and he just needed to vent? No, he would have outright told her that the moment he answered the phone. Her gut was telling her something wasn’t quite right. Something that she wouldn’t like one bit.

The drugs buzzing through her system made her body shiver. Damn, she needed to get rid of this energy. Maybe that was all this was, just her nervous system in overdrive. Besides, his voice was completely fine with his question. Nothing was wrong. ”Depends which job you mean. If it’s the one involving money? Then, uh. I need a new one of those. Boss is kind of- well, forever indisposed.”

An exasperated sigh escaped through the phone.

“Of course you do. How many jobs is that this month?” Despite the words, his tone held more resignation than real irritation. This was Sable—reckless, stubborn, allergic to authority figures and steady employment in equal measure.

His gaze drifted to the duffel bag on the couch, then to the stack of cash he’d pulled from his safe earlier. He’d been debating whether to include them in her things—two thousand in small bills, enough to keep her afloat for a few months if she was careful.

“What happened this time?”

”Let’s just say we had a difference in opinions. He thought I was psycho, I think I’m adorable.”

“Sure.”

Everything was catching up to her. She realized she really had to watch what she said- if he knew exactly what she had done, and had found the dead mutt, he would put everything together. He would find out she was the Butcher. What would he do if he realized exactly how brutal she could be? Would he look at her differently? Toss her aside, leave her to rot? She would be alone again. Her steps faltered for just a moment before she regained her composure. She wouldn’t let that happen. She needed Zach. More than she’d ever admit.

Clearing her throat, she looked both ways before crossing the street. She could see his apartment building a couple blocks down from her. She groaned and shook her head. ”You know I could be there by now if I just took the damn bike. They wouldn’t have missed it. Much.”

“That’ll hold up well in court.”

She couldn’t help a snicker in response. ”Good thing I know someone who can post my bail.”

Zachariah pushed himself up from where he’d been crouched over the boxes, stretching briefly before making his way across the apartment toward the kitchen. “Have you eaten yet?”

He pulled open the freezer door first. Some frozen vegetables, a bag of chicken breasts, ice cream that had probably been there for months.

Might as well use up what was left. After tonight, it would all go to waste anyway.

When Zachariah opened the refrigerator door next, every muscle in his body went rigid. Blood packs from Vex’s apartment stared back at him—dark plastic bags crowding the shelf like some twisted meal prep. Fire spread through his throat. His mouth flooded with saliva. That familiar, terrible hunger clawed its way up from his chest, demanding attention he refused to give it.

He swallowed hard and forced his gaze away. Bang. The refrigerator door slammed shut, bottles clinking inside from the force.

“... I can make you something.”

He was going to cook for her? She put a little bounce in her step. One thing the man definitely knew how to do was cook. It had served her well many times when she didn’t have the cash for a decent meal. ”Well, I just left the cafe, but I won’t say no to you preparing me something special.”

A smirk tugged at her mouth before she heard the obvious sound of the refrigerator door. Blinking, she raised her brow at the noise. Yeah. Something was definitely wrong with him. ”Z.” Her tone was questioning, letting him know she had heard. What the hell was going on?

It caused her to pick up the pace, transitioning into a light jog. Whatever news was urgent for him, it was causing him to act out. He never lost control. ”I’m about to turn onto your street. I’m almost there.”

“Look at that—record time without a single act of grand theft auto. I’m impressed.”

Zachariah closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the refrigerator’s cold surface. The metal felt good against his skin. Real. Solid. Normal.

All of this would end soon.

He hadn’t explained the specifics over the phone for good reason. Phone calls were never private—not in their line of work. Even encrypted connections had weak points, and the Wardens possessed the resources to monitor communications. The last thing he wanted was his brothers-and-sisters-in-arms showing up before he could say what had to be said.

Besides, once Sable walked through that door, once she got close enough to notice what he’d become—well. He wasn’t sure she’d let him finish a sentence.

Better to get the important things said while she still saw him as the same person who’d been lecturing her about motorcycle theft.

“... Sable, you gotta take better care of yourself. I’m not always going to be around to help you.”

She wasn’t an idiot. She knew in their line of work, any day could be their last. But the way he was speaking? The tone that enveloped every word spoken? It made every single hair stand on end. Suddenly she was very, very sober. Now, she broke out in a full on sprint.

Had he been threatened? Was he in hiding? A small growl ripped from her throat. She would butcher them all. Too long had she been alone. Where once that had been completely fine with her, now it felt like a death sentence. Zach was hers, and she’d be damned if anything was going to take him from her.

”Name.” Sable knew he would understand exactly what she was asking for. And what she was going to do with it.

He watched with a level of disinterest usually reserved for acceptance speeches, business-folk selling shit to folks that didn't need it, sermons, ideologues spouting their clap-trap, or 'righteous' Wardens. Watched as the pack filed out, or said their piece. Pups and Vets, and those Kessler had labelled long ago. Stooges. Muscle. Cheats. Enforcers. Thugs. Some were truly dangerous men and women. Some were merely numbers. Filling ranks, doing the jobs they were born for. Some were properly interesting individuals, others didn't have two wits to rub together. But tonight, none of that mattered. Only their presence. Some would be grist for the mill in the fight to come. Some were too damn stubborn and tough to lay down when the fight was upon them. Those were the ones that would let every other son of a bitch in Halcyon know the Lycans were here to stay, and definitely not to be fucked with.

The man had spoken. Dom had instructed he and Lucian to stay, and while Kess wasn't the biggest fan of Lucian -- too much talk, fancied himself a tactician -- if Dom said jump, Kess found a pogo stick. In the meantime, he got up, off the table he'd been perched on at the back of their inner sanctum, and walked over to a shelf that contained photos, mementos, books, pieces of their shared past. He felt for the broken tooth, felt that it had begun healing in earnest, and felt for the bruising under his left eye, feeling that too, had gone down. The pain was gone. Back to feeling a dull ache, and not much else. Nothing was informing his existence right now. He just... was. He wanted to respond the way the young girl -- was it Tessa? -- had. He wanted to feel something other than dead inside.

Taking a glance over his broad, beastly shoulders. There were still folks paying their respects, having a word with Dom, and as per usual, he wanted next-to-fuck-all to do with any of them. Beneath the shelf was Logan's old ES125. He could never make out the year, it was a single pickup model, early 50's, but it had been modded sometime in the past sixty-odd years, replacing the single-coil with an old humbucker that made every run sound like honey. He picked it up, turning the scratched, faded finish over in his bruised hands, split, crimson knuckles in stark contrast to the crazed yellow-ochre and black finish of the maple top. He put a foot up on the footstool there, where Logan had done so many times, and tried to remember the opening lines of a blues the old Wolf had shown him once, long ago. When Dom needed him, he'd say as much.

Lys didn’t so much sprawl in the booth as rule it–legs tangled in velvet and shadow, a crooked crown of messy black-green waved tipped askew like she'd just rolled out of sin and hadn’t quite decided if she was done with it yet. Her skin shimmered faintly, kissed by leftover magic and the aftermath of Volfango’s devotion. She stretched languidly, each movement designed to tempt and tease, flashing lace and thigh with a wicked smirk.

She tilted her head at his approach, lips already quirking as his mouth brushed her neck. She didn’t stop him. Of course she didn’t. But when he pulled back, she reached out and tapped two fingers lightly against his lower lip.

”You were delicious, love. And lucky,” she purred, dragging her nails up the open front of his shirt. ”I’m not always that sweet on the first round.”

But her gaze drifted–flicked past him–drawn like a flame to a familiar shadow she’d thought long gone.

There she was.

Sicily.

Heat pooled low in her belly. Memories flashed of shared nights, whispered dares, the taste of alcohol and want tangled together. But tonight wasn’t for reunion. No, tonight was for games. For chaos. For seeing just how far they could push this club before the walls themselves begged them to stop.

Her grin sharpened. Darkened. Oh, but wasn’t that just perfect?

”A stór,” she purred with a sultry smirk, ”I would love a bit more fun... especially if it involves an old flame with a habit of pretending she doesn’t still dream about me.”

She didn’t wait for permission. She stood–one slow, sinuous stretch that let her skirt ride up high on one thigh–then leaned in close, whispering like a curse just for Volfango.

”Lead on.” Her hips swayed as she stepped from the booth, letting her magic ripple across the room–a whisper of illusion here, a flicker of heat there, sparking desire like wildfire in their wake. As they moved, she trailed her fingers down Volfango’s spine, nails scraping ever so slightly.

She let her gaze linger on Angel, lips curling into a slow, wicked grin. Not yet, she thought. But soon. Oh, so soon. She wanted them both undone, wanted to watch the night bleed around them while they drowned in pleasure and sin.

Her laughter spilled out into the pulsing air, wild and bright as neon. Tonight was theirs, and Halcyon would remember their names in curses and praises alike. And Lys, ever the chaos-born queen, would ensure every second burned bright enough to sear into eternity.

“Don’t have names.” Zachariah pushed himself away from the refrigerator, the cold metal leaving his skin feeling oddly bereft. “Someone jumped me in an alley while I was investigating a potential vampire feeding ground.”

Someone jumped him? Okay. That could mean one of several things. One, he could be beaten all to hell and was barely holding himself together. Two, he was perfectly fine, but worried that he had been caught. Or three…No. She didn’t want to think of the third option. Especially not when it came to vampires.

He wandered across the apartment to where his black shoulder bag sat beside his desk, its leather worn smooth from years of fieldwork. The silver buckle bore a small dent from the time he'd used the bag to block a lycan's punch, metal taking the hit meant for his face.

“If you can find out who did this to me, feel free to ‘thank’ them.”

...who did this to me…

Those words nearly made her stumble over her own feet as she ran. No. No, this couldn’t be the third option. He sounded perfectly fine on the phone, maybe a little bit hesitant. He was injured. He needed a hospital. That’s all this was. Science could fix him. She could fix him. He would be completely fine in a day or two.

Zachariah opened the bag and rifled through its contents—notes, photos, and files from all those years of painstaking investigation. Dead ends that weren’t quite dead yet.

“While you’re at it, mind finishing up Elijah’s case too? I have everything I’ve gathered over the years in my black shoulder bag.” He paused. “Remember the one with the silver buckle?”

Hot tears pressed against her eyes as she raced towards the apartment building, now only half a block away. She could see the doors from where she was. ”No. Elijah is your case. Stop fucking talking to me like you’re fucking dying, damnit!” Sable couldn’t accept this. Wouldn’t accept this. Zach was all she had left. He was her family.

“That depends on what you do next, Sable.”

Her chest heaved as she finally arrived at the building. She had great stamina, but these emotions she was feeling? Absolutely foreign to her. Hurrying up to the elevator, she smashed the button several times before growling and giving up, instead opting for the stairs. ”I’m in the stairwell, open your damn door.”

Zachariah moved toward the door. The locks came undone in reverse order of how he’d secured them. First the reinforced bar, sliding free with a metallic scrape. Then the chain, its links rattling against the doorframe. Finally the deadbolt, turning with a solid click that seemed to echo through the apartment.

A crash echoed down the hall—metal against concrete. The stairwell door. Footsteps thundered up the hallway, fast and uneven, punctuated by harsh breathing and the occasional muttered curse.

Zachariah pulled it open just as her fist came forward, catching her mid-motion.

For a heartbeat, they stood frozen—him looking down at her flushed face, her staring up at him with eyes that searched for injuries that weren’t there.

Not the kind she could see, anyway.

Sable forgot about her fist in his hand as her eyes darted over his face. All she cared about in that moment was trying to prove to herself that he was only merely injured. Nothing else could be wrong with him. And then, there it was- the realization. He was perfect. Too perfect.

Her body froze as her entire world was instantly destroyed.

Moving slowly, carefully, he reached down to where her other hand still clutched the phone. His fingers covered hers as he pressed the end call button, the soft beep breaking the silence.

“Are you gonna put me down?”

He wasn’t dying. He was already dead.

He was one of them.

A loud humming filled her ears, dulling her senses. Everything was too loud and too quiet all at once. If he had been anyone else, she wouldn’t have hesitated. He would be on the ground, her runeblade already plunged deep into his chest. But- this was Zach. Her family. The only piece of normalcy securing her to the rest of the world. And now he was what she despised most.

She could feel the tears burning against the back of her eyes. Eyes that were zeroed in on his glowing emerald ones. Ones that screamed monster. He wasn’t her Zach anymore. Never would be, again.

She was going to get sick. Bile pressed at her throat before realizing he still held her hands. Pushing back away from him, she barely noticed when her phone hit the ground. Sable knew what she had to do. With the angry tears of anguish and betrayal hitting the tops of her cheeks, she brought her shaky left hand up to her throat where her amulet lay. Where her Ghostfire dust hid inside. She had a job to do.

His chest tightened as he watched the realization hit her—watched hope die in her eyes and something harder take its place. This was his fault. Didn’t matter that he’d had no choice… she was crying because of him.

Careful to keep his movements slow and unthreatening, Zachariah crouched to retrieve her phone from where it had clattered to the floor. When he straightened, he gestured toward his apartment. “Come on, whatever you decide to do, it shouldn’t be in the hallway.”

Her eyes followed every single movement he made. Sable’s body buzzed with something she wasn’t quite familiar with. She didn’t know if she wanted to get sick, cry, scream. All of the above? All she knew for sure was that she wanted to obliterate the vampire who did this to her guy. And for what she was going to do about Zach? She couldn’t just leave him as he was. She had never before allowed a vampire who crossed her path to survive.

Leaving the door open so she could walk inside on her own terms—or leave entirely if that’s what she chose—Zachariah returned to his apartment. He set her phone down next to the landline and switched off the dial tone that had been buzzing since they’d ended the call.

“I’ve been organizing my things,” he said, his voice carrying easily to where she stood in the doorway. “I have a bag for you too, so don’t forget to take it when you leave, okay?”

Taking a slow breath in, she flicked open the amulet and inhaled a quick line of dust. Her eyes closed for just a moment as she felt the drug ignite every single nerve ending in her body. Sable couldn’t focus on what he was saying. She knew, the minute she took out her butcher’s blade, he would put things together. He would know who she truly was.

It didn’t matter anymore. He wouldn’t survive to tell anyone else her secret.

She reached down to her ankle and unsheathed her dagger, holding it firm in her right hand. With her left, she reached behind her and slid her runeblade from the holster at her back. Sable stepped into his apartment and kicked the door shut behind her. Couldn’t let one of the mundane witness what she was about to do. She kept her eyes focused solely on him as the dust made her body jerk with the need to move.

His heightened senses caught the shift in the atmosphere. Every muscle in his body coiled instinctively, ready for violence. Then he exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax.

At least he’d been right about one thing. She wasn’t listening to a word he said anymore.

Would she even notice the bag he’d packed for her? Probably not. Her focus had narrowed to a single, lethal point. But the phone—her phone—she’d need that eventually. If she had to pick up the bag to get it...

Zachariah retrieved her phone from where he’d set it down and crossed to the duffel bag on the couch. The device slipped easily into the front pocket, hidden among the other things he’d gathered for her.

The family photo on the shelf caught his attention: five faces frozen in a moment of genuine happiness. His hand moved toward it.

If he was going to die—and the outcome seemed increasingly certain—then this was what he wanted to see last. Not the walls of his apartment or the hate in Sable’s expression. Just them. All of them together, the way they used to be.

His thumb traced across his twin brother’s face in the glass. “Sorry EJ,” he whispered to the image. He’d hoped enough of himself remained to finish what he started, to find the bastards responsible and return the favor. But if Sable looked at him and saw only another monster that needed killing... well. Maybe she was right.

Footsteps drew closer behind him, deliberate and certain. Zachariah didn’t turn around. Better this way—easier for her if she didn’t have to see his face when she did what needed doing.

“I’m sorry, Sable.”

Thanks to the dust, all of her senses were in overdrive. She watched his body tense and it caused a growl to escape her throat. Her grip on the blades tightened. If he was going to fight her back, she would be ready. And she would win. She took one small step towards him before she noticed him relaxing. The thought of him not even wanting to fight for his life surprisingly angered her more. And for him to keep his back to her, not even willing to look her in the eye? Coward.

Her attention darted over to the couch, where he placed her phone into a bag. She had to remember that for later. Looking back to the vampire in front of her, she bent her knees slightly in preparation to launch herself at him. She held her blades at the ready before his apology crossed her ears. It caused her to nearly stumble as she blinked.

Vampires were never sorry. They certainly didn’t have any feelings. And this wasn’t a monster speaking- it was Zach. Her best friend. The only person she had ever started to let in. The hold on her blades lessened as her body slumped. How in the hell was she going to kill him? She couldn’t live without the guy. Hanging her head, she squeezed her eyes shut and let hot tears hit the ground below her.

The air carried something unfamiliar. Salt and something sharper underneath. Tears. Zachariah blinked, startled by the realization that he could actually smell them. Another unwelcome addition to his expanding catalog of monstrous abilities.

He kept his gaze fixed on the photograph. For both their sakes, he wouldn’t turn around to confirm what his nose already told him.

“Whatever you decide to do, it’s the right answer.” His voice stayed steady, matter-of-fact. “And if you ever doubt what you did, just know that I’ll never hold it against you. I appreciate you, Sable.”

She cringed every time her name left the man’s mouth. This was too personal for her. Her kills were supposed to be simple, leaving her with such a rush that made her blood sing. Why did it have to be him? Why did the monsters have to take everything from her once again? What the hell had she ever done to deserve to be alone?

A dry chuckle escaped him. “You know, you were always like the second annoying little sister I never asked for. Getting into trouble, making more work for me, stealing my booze and couch.” He touched the glass over Elijah’s face one more time. “But I really did enjoy our time together.”

And there it was. The connection she couldn’t name- he was her brother. The pain stoked the fire burning within her chest.

The words came easier now, softer. “I’m going to miss you, Sable.”

Squeezing her eyes tighter, she knew what she had to do. The breath slowly left her as she dropped her runeblade to the floor. Unlike her butcher’s dagger, it was the only thing that could end his existence. The grip tightened on the dagger still in her hand as she spoke to him, her voice choppy and broken. Low, but she knew he’d be able to hear her. ”I’m a monster, too.”

The metallic clatter against the floor made his head jerk slightly, but he caught himself before he could turn around.

Did she... just abandon a weapon?

He frowned. In all the years he’d known Sable, she’d never willingly disarmed herself when exterminating a target. Not once.

Why—

“I’m a monster, too.”

The frown carved deeper lines between his eyebrows. “What?”

Now that he was no longer human—with senses he’d never possessed before—he knew with absolute certainty that Sable was human. Completely, thoroughly human.

So what the hell did she mean by that?

Her chest heaved as she tried to hold in the rest of her sobs. There was a secret she had been keeping from him. One that would change his entire viewpoint of her. He would know in an instant that she was not just a Warden who killed because it was her duty. No- he would know that she completely mutilated them. Under the Butcher’s hand, the supernatural were left tortured, shredded, dismembered. She took absolute pleasure in hearing their screams.

And for whatever reason, she couldn’t walk out of here without him knowing. What did that make her? Holding firmly onto the dagger, she ground her teeth before lifting her head to look at his back. Sable took in a quick breath and yelled out, putting all her power into a thrust that caused her butcher’s dagger to fly towards his right shoulder blade.

Fire exploded through his shoulder blade as the dagger punched through muscle and sinew, the blade’s edge scraping against bone. White-hot agony lanced down his arm and up his neck, stealing his breath.

And with it came the beast.

The Sanguine Curse clawed its way toward the surface, every vampiric instinct screaming for retaliation. But the Warden in him slammed down like an iron fist. He seized the Curse by the throat, wrestling it back down while his vision tunneled red at the edges.

Zachariah bit down hard on his lip, fangs piercing the soft flesh until he tasted his own blood. The family photograph cracked in his white-knuckled grip, then shattered completely. Glass fragments bit into his palm, sharp edges slicing skin as his fingers closed around the jagged pieces.

His breath came in ragged gasps. Every muscle trembled with the effort of containing himself, of not spinning around and putting his fist through Sable’s chest. Not snapping her neck like kindling. Not tearing her heart from her ribcage and bathing in the warmth that would spill forth.

Knees buckled, and he collapsed forward, pressing his forehead and bloodied hands to the cool floor. A strangled sound escaped his throat as he pounded his fists against the ground, then his own skull, anything to drive back the monster.

Pain. Focus on the pain. Glass in his skin. The burning ache in his shoulder where her blade still rested.

And he waited for Sable to deliver the killing blow.

But it didn’t come.

Through uneven breaths, he managed to force out: “You missed.”

Her entire body tensed as she watched him go to war with himself. She expected him to turn and unleash himself on her, like every other vampire before him had done. As he finally fell to the ground, she knelt down and picked up the runeblade she had let fall to the floor. Sliding it back into its sleeve behind her, Sable silently stalked her way behind him.

She clenched her jaw as she stared down at his hunched back. A small breath left her. ”I never miss.”

Renewed tears, this time out of anger, bubbled up in her eyes. She gave a small shake of her head as a sob managed to break free of her throat. ”Goodbye, brother. I-” She stopped herself from saying the words. The three words that would shatter her into tiny pieces if she said them out loud. Words that didn’t mean anything anymore. She shook her head to rid herself of the emotions threatening to take over once more.

Sable reached over to the couch and looped her left arm through the duffel bag before sliding it into the crook of her elbow. She returned her attention to his back, her dagger sticking straight out. A snarl curled along her lip as she leaned over, her fingers wrapping around the hilt of the blade. ”The Butcher sends her regards.”

With one sharp tug, the blade was free from his back and she was out the door, the dust in her system making sure she was long gone.

Zachariah stayed on the floor until his breathing evened out and the urge was driven deep, deep down. Once it settled into manageable background noise, he got to his feet and went through the motions of locking the front door. The familiar ritual of securing his apartment helped calm his nerves.

He retrieved one blood pack from the refrigerator and drained it standing in his kitchen, treating it like medication rather than a meal. The crimson liquid soothed his throat, cleared his head.

“The Butcher sends her regards.”

Zachariah set the empty pack on the counter, processing what he’d missed in the moment.

Sable was the Butcher. The “monster” who carved crescent moon scars into her supernatural victims that never healed, no matter their regenerative abilities.

A stunned laugh escaped him.

Color code 766359
Location: The Cracked Fang Time: Dusk
Speaking with: The Pack
Interacting with: @Oso Dom @deegee Kessler

^{__________________________________________________________}

Lucian sat quietly as Dom gave his closing remarks. Watching the gathered mass disburse, Lucian offered those that walked close enough to him a nod. A silent acknowledgement.

The room, still warm and humid with body heat, was now essentially empty. The three of them remained. Lucian's mind was blank, repeating the conversation he had with Hollow and Cinnamon in his mind, trying to pick up any morsel of information that he can glean from it. The conversation itself was very, very light. It made sense. The situation was so fresh, not many people knew of what happened. And if the wardens were in on it, Hollow certainly would not have divulged that information, lest incurring Lucian's wrath where he sat.

"Yeah. Just us now..." Lucian said, as he softly tossed a rag at Dom's hand, for him to do what he could to clean up the wound. A relatively empty gesture, as surely that wound would heal just fine, like the many others all of them have suffered along the way. "What I wanted to say before was that after the warehouse, I met up with Hollow. I wanted to see what he knew. And sure enough, the fuck told me next to nothing other than there hasn't been any whisperings of the event amongst the Wardens... I wanted to tug on whatever thread, whatever lead I may possibly have. Thus far, nothing we don't already know..."

Looking over towards Kessler, Lucian pondered what Dom said about being Second. Could he fill the show of someone like Logan Delaney? Could he be what Dom needs not only now, but also into the future? He did not doubt Kessler's capabilities. But, even amongst the wolves, Kessler's temper may not be the most ideal for what they need right now. Sure, there will be a need for it, but being the representation of blind fury is easy. Anyone can be angry and lash out. But as Dom said, he needed someone loyal enough, for that he does not doubt neither himself nor Kessler. Dom needs someone mean enough to scare the young ones into behaving. The approaches Kessler and Lucian would take would be...quite opposite, but both would be effective.

" Kessler. I think you and I would both agree that we're both very capable. This is just my opinion however. Dom. You're right. Filling the void Logan left would be a monumental ask. Thus, as much as I hate to keep one more task on your very full plate, I think you should decide. Unless, Kessler, you have a convincing case of why you should have that spot. Speak it and I will listen..."

She hadn't stopped to take a breath until she was well outside of the building. Her chest heaved as wild eyes looked around the space in front of her. Several people passing her gave her strange looks, muttering to themselves. Somebody even mentioned the police. Words of assistance hummed near her, but it seemed more of a floating memory. Sable took several steps towards the curb as her body went on autopilot to get her as far away from the public eye as she could. She didn't even notice that she was in the middle of the street until the blaring sound of a car's horn and screeching tires hit her. Blinking at the vehicle, she finished crossing the street, ignoring all the jumbled words around her.

None of it mattered. Nothing made sense anymore, if it even had in the first place. Her body jerked as the second round of dust ran through her system, coiling itself around the alcohol and cocaine she had ingested earlier. She shouldn't have taken that last hit so soon after the first. Never before had she been so reckless with the drug, but what it could do to her never once entered her mind. She didn't give a damn. For all she cared, the drugs could take her as she stood. She was done. The monsters had taken everything from her once more, just as she felt she was becoming more of a human than a killing machine.

What else could she do now?

Zach was a vampire. She killed vampires. While she had spared a few lycans, never before had she allowed a bloodsucker to see another night. He had offered himself to her for the kill. He knew what had to be done, and that she could accomplish it.

And yet she hesitated.

She never hesitated.

Suddenly black spots floated in her vision and she knew another blackout was on the verge of occurring. Her eyes darted around, knowing she had to get some place where she wouldn't be discovered. The last thing she needed was for this information to get back to Verren. Sable stopped as the man's face crossed her mind. He would find out about Zach. He would send others after him. She couldn't let that happen. No matter what had just transpired between the two, he was still her brother. She needed to protect him.

Which meant she had to live.

Sable stumbled over her feet, jarring herself from her thoughts. She braced a hand on a brick wall next to her as she focused on her breathing. The blackout was quickly approaching her and she would be vulnerable in a matter of minutes. Hell, she didn't even know what the drugs in her system would do once she wasn't actively fighting against them. Would her heart just refuse to continue pumping once she was out? She needed help. Desperately.

Remembering her phone, she reached down to the black duffel bag still hanging from her arm before pulling the device out. Who could she call? Who the hell would give enough of a damn to find her? To protect her, and possibly save her stupid fucking life? Sable stumbled once more as she slumped against the building nearest her. Her hands shook as she looked down at her phone. A frustrated groan escaped her when she realized she was seeing triple of everything. Never a good sign.

She took in a quick breath as her trembling fingers fumbled against the screen of her phone. Sable brought up the last text she had sent and pinged her location just as her shaking legs brought her to a dark alley. Her eyes rolled back into her head before her knees met the ground, the world immediately going black. She didn't even feel the ground after she plunged face first towards it.

She just hoped she had hit send.

Vex lay on her back, her arm cradled awkwardly against her chest, fingers twitching now and then like they weren’t hers. The pain had dulled, replaced by something heavier, thicker, like her body was slowly sinking into warm water. She was cold, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t care.

Somewhere in the haze, she heard laughter.

His laughter.

Her lips twitched. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know.Bear was nearby. She could feel the thud of his boots on the ground, the heat of his shoulder brushing hers. That familiar mix of sweat, leather, and blood that always clung to him like a second skin.

“V,” his voice echoed, deep and steady, full of that cocky calm he wore like armor. “Stay close. I’ve got you.”

And she believed him. In that moment, she felt no pain. No weight. Just him. Just the two of them back in that dark nest, blades drawn, breath held. It had been like this before, side by side, clearing out that hive of vampire spawn, adrenaline and banter sharp as their weapons.

A shadow moved behind her.

“VEX!” Bear shouted.

She turned. Too late.

In real time, her eyelids fluttered. Her vision blurred. The face above her shifted, too close. Someone watching her. Hovering. Her heart kicked hard in her chest.

Spawn.

Her body moved before her mind caught up.

With a strangled grunt, she rolled into the motion, fist flying upward. It collided hard with the soft center of a stomach,Elodie’s stomach,with a thud.

Vex hit the floor, a sharp jolt rocketing up her side. Her breath caught. Her eyes blinked open, wild and unfocused, searching for Bear. Where was he? But all she found was the ceiling again. Still. Wrong. Too still.

Her eyes glanced back at the Vampire she struck. Deep red circles hollowed them in as her golden amber eyes almost glowed in the moonlight. Her chest heaving up and down as her skin glittered in the moonlight from the sweat that continued to bead down her forehead.

“FINISH HER!” Bear shouted off to the side as Vex continued to stare Elodie down. The mind warped and twisted around the vampire spawn, the posion of the venom so deep in her system now she was no longer seeing reality.

Elodie wheezed, doubling over with a choked sound that wasn’t quite a scream, but definitely wasn’t dignified. Pain bloomed across her abdomen like a firework, her hands instinctively wrapping around herself as she stumbled back a few steps.

“Oh my god–okay–ow,” she gasped, eyes wide as she looked up. Involuntary tears blurred her vision as she looked at the woman in front of her.

Vex.

Sweating, trembling, eyes unfocused and glowing like dying embers in the dark. And that stare. Elodie had seen a lot in people’s eyes over the years. Grief. Rage. Desperation. But never something quite like this. It was like looking into a storm made of fever and ghosts.

And she didn’t even know her.

“Hey, hey, easy,” Elodie breathed, voice soft and shaky, as if talking down a frightened animal. Her heart was thudding against her ribs like it had somewhere better to be. “You don’t know me, I know that, but I'm not trying to hurt you. I swear.” Elodie’s gaze darted to the door Sean had vanished through and she quietly sent a prayer out to anyone who was listening that he'd be back soon.

She forced herself to straighten, even as her stomach protested. “Okay. Okay. You just... need rest. And probably electrolytes. Or a sedative. Maybe both?”

She thought she saw a flicker of movement from Vex and panic gripped her as she quickly threw up her hands, frozen bag of peas still in one. Why hadn't she dropped that?

Elodie’s voice went up a full octave. “Let’s not do punching again, please!” She’d never been in a fight. And right now, she was pretty sure she was about to lose her very first one to a gorgeous half-delirious werewolf.

That look. One she had seen for so many times before. They play the helpless deer, using peoples remorse to find a weakness. Disgusting…

Vex sneered lunging at the vampire. Her hand gripping around its neck as she slammed her body against the wall leaving an outline of the womens form. Her hand tightened around her neck restricting her airway. Her yellow eyes narrowed in on the women. “You’re lucky your dealing with me and not bear” she smirked pulling the women by the neck back and slamming her back into the wall.

Elodie choked as her back slammed into the wall, an explosion of agony radiating from her spine up into her skull. She heard something crack–maybe the wall, maybe something inside her–and her vision burst into blinding sparks. Her lungs seized, the air punched out of her chest in a ragged wheeze as her toes scraped uselessly against the floor.

The bag of frozen peas tumbled from her numb fingers, but she managed to catch it again, clutching it like a lifeline even as her arms shook from the strain of trying to pry Vex’s fingers away from her throat. Her head throbbed in time with her pulse, each beat like a hammer against her skull.

Move, Elodie… please, move… Her mind screamed at her body to act, but her limbs felt heavy and wrong. Pain bloomed where Vex’s grip crushed her windpipe, raw and burning, every breath a pitiful rasp. Her stomach still throbbed from the punch, each breath sending a lance of pain through her core that nearly made her retch.

“Wh-who the hell is Bear?” she croaked out, the words thin and strangled. Tears streaked down her cheeks as her vision swam, edges blurring and blackening like ink spilling across paper. Every nerve screamed. The sharp, crushing grip on her neck blurred into another set of hands–rough, unyielding–pinning her in that dark room where blood coated the walls and magic hummed like a broken wire. The smell of old iron. The cold tile against her cheek. Teeth sinking into her flesh. The fear so thick she couldn’t even scream.

No. No. Not again.

A strangled noise ripped from her throat, something between a whimper and a snarl. Her hand shot up, clutching the frozen bag of peas, and she smashed it against Vex’s head with a desperate crack. Her other hand grasped at Vex’s arm, nails biting into flesh. Then, fueled by panic and raw vampire strength she barely understood, Elodie twisted her hips and drove her knee up with all the force she could muster, aiming for the soft space between Vex’s ribs.
The knee to her ribs followed fast and hard. Pain bloomed sharp beneath the surface, and her body folded instinctively, breath hissing out through clenched teeth.

But she didn’t fall.
Her arm snapped out, catching Elodie’s wrist with bruising force, her grip all knuckles and rage. Blood dripped from the scratches along her forearm, but she barely noticed.

“Spicy,” she purred, voice laced with both amusement and menace. “You always this fun, or is this just for me?”

With a fluid twist of her hips, she reversed their positions, pinning Elodie to the counter in one graceful motion, mouth near her ear, breath cool as night. “You don’t even know what you’re capable of yet, do you?”

There was no rage in her. Only hunger. And the thrill of a challenge.

“I’m not… dying… again!” she choked out, voice shredded by pain and desperation.

Sean, please… Her thoughts fractured around the pain, each beat of her heart sending panic and desperation spiraling through her veins. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to hurt her. I don't want to die. Please…

Vex wiped the blood from her lip with the back of her hand, staring at the smear like it personally offended her. She looked up, eyes locked on Elodie, and let out a short, sharp breath, half a laugh, half a snarl.

"You're kidding me. This is supposed to be a vampire?"

She leaned in closer, her boots dragging slightly across the floor as she widened her stance.

"I’ve gutted spawn in back-alley dens with more fight than you. At least they had the decency to go down swinging."

Her gaze raked over Elodie, eyes cold, mouth twisted in something between disgust and pity.

Elodie’s back screamed from the impact, her ribs aching with every breath, but the blood–gods, the blood was worse.

It was in the air.

Slick and sharp and close.

The scent coiled down her throat, warm and copper-sweet, clinging to her tongue like honey-drenched rot. Her stomach twisted with a hunger she didn’t want to name.

No. No, not now—

Her gums ached, fangs pressing at the edge of her control. She squeezed her eyes shut, nails digging into her palm. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, trying to drown the bloodlust in pain, in fear, in anything else, but it only throbbed louder in her ears.

”If anyone’s found bleeding, leave or get yourself into another room.” Sean's words echoed in her mind as she tried to hold her breath.

Don’t lose it. Don’t become that. Don’t let her see it.

”Ever consider that I didn't choose this and want to live a normal life.” She gasped out, trying to distract herself, as she opened her eye. Crimson irises now began to scan her surroundings in search for anything to help her out of this. Then she saw it–Sean’s gun, glinting on the table. A wild, desperate idea sparked.

If she could get to it. Hold it. Pretend she knew what she was doing… maybe Vex would pause. She moved before she could talk herself out of it.

Elodie slammed her fist into Vex’s nose. The impact was jarring yet Vex didn’t even much as flinch. A sick smile spread on her face followed by a soft chuckle. She heard a crunch of her hand as it met her face. The crunch was sickening, but Elodie wasn't sure if it was from Vex's nose or her own hand. “Ow–oh my god, ow!” she gasped, recoiling as if she had been hit.

Why does no one talk about how much that hurts?! Movies made this look way easier!

She hoped the shock of it, and maybe the absurdity, would give her just enough of a window. She twisted her torso sharply, legs kicking at the floor to slip beneath Vex’s arm, her heart pounding wildly as she scrambled toward the table.

Just a few more feet…don’t look back…don’t think…just move!

The gun. The plan. Sean. Focus on that.

She didn’t know if it would work, but if she was going down, she was going down swinging–with bruised knuckles, cracked ribs, bad ideas, and every last scrap of defiance she had left.

Pulling back the wolf stood back, her eyes looming over the frantic vampire as she attempted to scurry away but instead with a swift hand and an abrupt tug, Vex pulled Elodie back dragging her across the floor.

Elodie yelped, her nails clawing at the floor as she was pulled, panic clawing up her throat in tandem with the searing pain in her ribs. Her eyes locked on the gun–it was so close–and she twisted, arm outstretched, bloody fingers reaching for the metal like it might save her soul.

Then came the thud.Vex’s heavy combat boot slammed down on her shoulder, pinning her like prey under a predator’s paw. The pressure was unforgiving, enough to crack bone if she pressed harder.

Elodie let out a sharp, broken scream as pain exploded through her body, sharp and immediate. She thrashed beneath it, sobbing through clenched teeth as her free hand kept reaching–futile, desperate–for the gun. Still, she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Tears streamed from her eyes, hot and unrelenting as she choked on another cry. Her bloodlust screamed alongside the pain, fangs pressing against her lips, but she fought it back, locking it behind every ounce of will she had left. “Please–” she whispered, voice cracked, her breath hitching through agony.

But Vex didn’t even glance down.

Casually, she reached behind her, fingers brushing the torn edge of her jeans until they found the crumpled pack of cigarettes stuffed in her back pocket. She smacked it twice against her palm before drawing one out with the kind of leisure that mocked the chaos around her. Her hands moved with mechanical familiarity as she brought it to her lips and lit it, the flare of flame briefly illuminating her blood-spattered face.

She took a long drag.

And then, there he was.

Leaning casually in the shadowed corner of the room, Bear. His grin was as lazy and smug as ever. Arms crossed over his chest, he watched her with a glint of amusement in those knowing eyes.

“How long are you gonna drag this one out for?” he drawled smoothly, his voice dripping like warm honey, unaffected by the brutal scene.

Vex’s lip curled up, cigarette pinched between two fingers. She exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around her. Her eyes didn’t leave the apparition in the corner, even as she felt Elodie writhed under her boot.

“Don’t pout, Bear. I’ll be done soon. Then it’s just you and me again.” she seemed to speak to the empty corner of the room.

But Bear wasn’t real.

And Elodie was.

And yet Vex just smiled, the smoke pouring from her lips. Kneeling down her boot now pressing deeper into Elodies arm the sound of her bone crunching under her foot echoed like sweet music. Her golden yellow eyes watched Elodie like prey, her beautiful smile contrasting against her primal gaze as Seans gun was just inches from Elodies reach.

Elodie’s scream tore from her throat. It was raw, jagged, and filled with a pain so deep it didn’t sound human. It was the sound of something breaking–not just bone, but hope.

“Shhh… It will be over soon.” Vex grinned.

As before, Kessler sat at the table against the wall, behind the ring of chairs surrounding the table at the inner sanctum of the Iron Fangs' court, altar, temple, arena. Listened while Dom laid the ace on the line. Listened while Lucian gave his report, and deflected the decision back to Dom, while simultaneously turning the discussion over to him. Lucian looked away from the table, away from his Alpha, and both he and Dom looked to the big man in the corner, to see if he had any wordstuff worthy of their ears.

Kessler continued listening, to his own breathing, to the silence of the room. He looked from Dom, to the eyes of Lucian, then to the floor. There was no great deal of love lost between he and the other man in the room, and Kessler was pretty certain he knew what Lucian thought of him. Too quick to act. Too much the good soldier, not enough of a thinker. But that merely spoke to how well Lucian knew him, which was to say, not at all. Kessler did not often disobey, but that was not due to a lack of care, or a lack of intellect. Dom (and Logan in his stead, in the past) had merely never given him cause to doubt an order. Because they were usually tactically sound decisions.

What did Lucian know of Kessler's anger, and where that was most often directed? (inward.) What did Lucian know of Kessler's rage? The only rage the big man had ever displayed had been orders passed down to him. Kess kept his own rage in reserve, under lock and key. There was a time and a place for that to be let out, to breathe. But he was pretty sure Lucian hadn't ever seen it -- though he knew that's what Shelby saw when he looked Kess' way: the big, broad, turned-blood soldier, good enough to do the dirty work.

He finally spoke, and when the words were uttered, it was low, a rumbling baritone that the pack would've had to go quiet to hear. "Yeah -- I tend to agree with you, Lucian. I don't question our abilities. I don't question our loyalty. I don't even question our methods -- different though they may be." He looked into the other pack-member's eyes. "But I think it's me, Lucian. Why? Two reasons. First... I'm a turned-blood. You may not think that means much of anything, but I've known a human existence. And with what's to come, I think that knowledge will serve the pack. And second... I don't think you're a war-time Beta."

He stood, not to punctuate the moment, but because he'd said his piece. There was nothing more to be said about it. Unless Lucian wanted to fight. In which case, Kessler would oblige the man. But he had no interest in it, personally. He approached the central table, resting his knuckles on the tabletop. "That's how I see it," he sighed. "...but we have work to do."

"Volfango will just have to repay your generosity later then." He had found himself a most dangerous partner tonight. The fact she would call that sweet told him plenty, not that he wouldn't mind rougher play. Volfango would take her making an exception for him as a good sign regardless.

He raised a perfectly trimmed brow to her statement. An old flame. Now that was interesting and made the potential all the more desirable. "Volfango thinks the two of us shall have to jog her memory."

His hand spread across Lys's back, fingers dipping around the edge of her curves. Volfango's steps were smooth and precise, gliding along the floor. His clothes glimmering under the passing lights as he walked up to Angel. All the while his own magic wove into the trail left behind by his new queen. Powering it. Accentuating it further. He wanted to fan the flames of her wildfire and see what remained in the ashes.

Beams of lights spread across the dancers, shifting colors just as quickly as they shifted positions on the dance floor. The magic spun by the two Fae making the other patrons moves heated and intense. The loud music made the skin tingle with vibrations as it nearly drowned out all other sounds.

His golden eyes never lost track of Angel through the chaotic movement of the crowd and his hand remained attached to Lys in one position or another. Unlike the other one who had approached her, Volfango did not wait for his nerves to steady.

"You may excuse Volfango, but he can not simply watch when such beauty is before him. Perhaps we may join you?" His voice rolled with the words, harboring no subtle magics to accentuate it or tempt. Cassanova as he was, Volfango didn't like for his close or intimate relationships to be built on a foundation that wasn't strong in the first place. He was not his father. He did not need cheap tricks to get what he wanted.

For Volfango was a deeply hedonistic and greedy Fae. There was much he desired and he wanted it get it his way. Goals laid down way before his self-exodus from his father's estate. Dreams he had laid the groundwork for brick by brick for decades. None of that mattered gazing upon Angel, Lys possessively latched to his side. "Volfango will make this night one to remember, just the way you want it." He added, sliding a finger up the spine of Lys's back.

Vex’s boot lifted from Elodie’s shoulder, the weight of the moment crashing down harder than any blow she’d dealt. She took a step, then another, each one slower than the last. Her feet dragged against the worn floorboards, the heavy clunk of her boots echoing in the silence like gunshots.

The cigarette hung between her lips, a faint curl of smoke rising as she moved.

And then she saw him.

Hollow.

Her eyes locked onto his, and whatever was left of her mind cracked. The crooked smile she wore slipped from her face. Gone. Just like that. The cigarette slipped from her lips and hit the floor, still burning, forgotten.

By the time Sean stepped through the doorway, she was already falling.

Her knees hit the floor in front of him with a dull, final thud. There was no rage left in her now, just the wreckage. Her shoulders sagged, hands limp at her sides, breath shallow and uneven. Blood streaked her skin, but she didn’t seem to notice.

She didn’t look up right away. She just knelt there, crumbling quietly in the place where her fury had run dry. Her eyes focused on the floor as her hands reached out in front of her.
—-------------------------------------------------------
The warehouse stank of rust, rain… and blood.

His blood.

Vex didn’t even remember hitting the floor. One second she was running, lungs burning, heart in her throat, and the next, she was on her knees in it. Cradling Bear in her arms, her fingers soaked red and slipping, vision swimming as she stared down at his face. Too pale. Too still. And his chest fuck his chest wasn’t rising like it should.

“Bear,” her voice cracked, barely holding together. “No, no… you’re okay, sugar. You’re okay.”

But he wasn’t.

Not even close.

The wound in his side was a canyon. Torn wide. Blood was pouring from it like it was in a goddamn rush to leave him. And the rest of him—his neck, his arms, even his ribs—were torn up, punctured, and shredded. Vampire bites. So many of them. The dark trails of poison were swimming up his body as if he were tangled in dark webs.

She pressed both hands to the worst of it, but the blood just pushed back through her fingers like he was slipping like water. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t stop them. She didn’t know what she was looking for as she scanned him, eyes wide and frantic. Anything. Something to fix. Something to save.

He stirred.

His head rolled toward her, eyelids fluttering open just enough. And even with all that pain written across his face…he smiled.

That damn smile. Crooked. Warm. The one that always made her forgive him. The one that made her fall in love with him.

Home.

“You came…” he whispered, voice barely a breath.

“Of course I fucking came,” she said, swallowing down the sob that clawed at her throat. “You think I’d let you do this alone?”

She tried to laugh, to hold onto some kind of calm, but everything inside her was buckling. Her ribs felt like they were caving in. She couldn’t breathe.

“You promised you’d wait for me,” she whispered, brushing his bloody, sticky hair off his forehead. “We were supposed to go together.” Her thumb stroked his forehead softly as she attempted to hold back her tears.

His hand moved, slow and shaking. She grabbed it and brought it to her cheek, pressing it there like maybe if she held it tight enough, it wouldn’t go cold.

He was already halfway there.

“Didn’t wanna drag you in… too dangerous…”

“I’m dangerous,” she shot back, her tears falling fast now, unchecked. “You forget who I am, Bear? There’s nothing. Nothing! I wouldn’t burn down if it meant keeping you alive.”

She took a breath that rattled in her chest, tried to steady herself, then spoke softer, like she was trying not to scare him away.

“You remember that old apartment? On 7th? With the busted neon sign and the ceiling that dripped when it rained?” Her voice cracked again. “You loved that place. Said it felt like the kind of hell you’d wanna grow old in. You wanted to buy it someday. Paint the walls. Fix the floor.”

He gave her another smile, faint this time, already fading like the light behind his eyes.

“You hated that place.”

“Yeah.” She huffed out a weak laugh. “I did. It smelled like piss and regret. But I would’ve lived there with you. Every day. Ink-stained walls, broken windows, holes in the walls, all of it.”

His thumb brushed her cheek just once. Barely there. So soft and gentle, it felt like a ghost.

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me… even if you were a pain in my ass.” He smiled weakly before coughing, his body slowly starting to convulse as he fought to breathe.

And then…

His hand slipped from hers.
His chest stopped moving.
He was gone.

Just like that.

Vex didn’t scream. Didn’t sob. She just… folded. Arms locked tight around him, like maybe if she held on hard enough, it would undo everything. Her head dropped, resting against his. Her fingers clutched the front of his coat like she was anchoring herself to the only thing that ever made sense.

“I was supposed to die first,” she whispered.

But the words got swallowed by the rain.

And still, she stayed there. Long after the warmth left his body. Long after the blood dried against her skin. Because letting go would make it real. And if it was real, it meant he was never coming back.

And she wasn’t ready.
She never would be.

The rain persisted, trapping the moment in a frame of gloom and sorrow. The scene wasn't unfamiliar except for the faces of the lovers involved, so Sean, Hollow held no feelings that interrupted his stride. Like Death, he entered the dreary abandoned warehouse with the visage of a hooded skeletal face and dressed in black. Somedays his holster pulled him toward a lucrative businessman or the scorned side of a rivalry. Today, it was toward someone needing retribution. An eye for an eye, blood for blood.

The sound of his hard boots echoing within the near-empty building was his greeting, and a hand resting on his enchanted holster was his first impression. As he drew closer, he recognized the merciless black veins. The result of a lycan being bitten by a vampire’s fangs.

“He’s long gone. Free from this shithole.” Sean wasn't pretty with his words. He couldn't be for someone he didn't know.

As if the event were running in real time, Vex’s eyes, red and teary, looked up at Hollow. Her hands were shaking in the air as she held a ghostly form in her grip. A familiar sight…

Her mind drew back in again, twisting the layers of reality and the past. Tears streamed from her eyes as they looked up from her apartment floor at Hollow with his barrel pointed in her direction. Her face contorted in an angry expression as a deep and low guttural growl.

“You…” Her voice cracked, raw and feral. She eased Bear down gently, like he might wake up if she moved too fast. Vex then surged to her feet like a force of nature.

“Don’t do it.” It sounded like a mix of a threat and a plea.

“YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!”

She lunged.

No questions. No warning. Just violence.

She slammed into him with the weight of her grief, fists flying before she even registered the impact. One punch landed against his mask with a sickening crack. Another to his ribs. She didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

The force of her body slamming into him caused them both to tumble into the door of her apartment, nearly breaking it off the hinges.

Grunts, fists, pounding against the hardwood floor and apartment door… but absent of gunshots. No man could outpower a Lycan, and every hunter knew lethality was needed in order to even the playing field. The pistol was far from the man’s reach, a foolish move of his own doing. He had tossed it with no intention of using it, but it was not an indicator of forfeiting.

“Vex! Ugh!” The pain was dulled by her weakened state and his gear, but it still hurt like hell. He was damn sure she was trying to beat him into mush under her fists.

As Vex continued her assault, the hunter stabbed and shot up her right quad with the syringe to free his left hand for continuous punches targeting her liver. His other hand was far less gracious, desperate even, as it switched from blocking to reaching up and grabbing a tuft of hair to pull.

“You should’ve killed me with him.” Her breath was hot, ragged, and soaked in grief. “Because I swear to god, I’ll fucking haunt you. I’ll tear you apart one scream at a time if I find out you had anything to do with it.”

Her right leg buckled from the injection, numbness spreading through the muscle, but her rage was still burning white-hot. Refusing to fall.

With a guttural snarl, she lunged again. Her hand shot out, wrapping around the hunter’s throat in a vice-like grip. Fingers dug in, nails biting through skin and gear as she slammed him into the nearest wall with brute force. The drywall cracked behind him, dust and paint chips raining down around his shoulders.

Her face was inches from his, breath shuddering, chest heaving.

Her eyes, no longer human, burned a bright, vivid yellow. Wild. Crazed. Violent. They locked onto his behind the mask, daring him to move. Daring him to lie, but he didn't utter a word. He couldn't even if he wanted to, as she choked him.

“Look at me,” she growled, her voice low and trembling with fury.

She squeezed tighter, knuckles white, arm trembling from the effort. Sean gripped her flexed forearm with his left hand as a low growl emanated from beneath his mask.

“Tell me the truth. Right now. Or I swear I’ll rip your fucking spine out through your goddamn mouth.” The words were familiar, the same words she muttered to him that night. The familiar look of pain on her face.

“B- Bear…” He blinked hard to maintain some semblance of focus and awareness through the pain. The fact Sean could get anything out was a good thing—it meant his airway wasn't completely obstructed… yet. Still, he was in a tight spot, his back literally against the wall, pinned by Vex’s grief she kept marinating and contained deep in her barely put-together heart. Vex being tough as nails hadn't been something he told Elodie for the sake of aura points.

“Bear…” He managed to get out again with another hard blink just before he delivered a sharp stomp into her right knee. It might have nearly shattered anyone else's, but all he needed was a slight buckle—a small break in the balance of her stance. “...ain’t here!” Sean roared. With his grip locked onto her hair and forearm, he slammed her down so he was on top of her. With a gasp, her back slammed against the ground, the air knocking out from her lungs as she attempted to gasp. “I’m here to help you, Vex!” He began punching at the arm still choking him to loosen her grip. “Me and you, Vex… but you gotta… get your fucking shit straight!”

Her back hit the dirt hard. The air got knocked right out of her, and for a moment, everything went blurry.

Something inside her went quiet. Anger is simmering under the surface.

Vex let Sean throw one more punch, took it as if it were nothing, and then snapped. Her hands shot up, grabbing his arm just before the next swing. She twisted hard, pulling his weight forward. Planting her boot, she rolled.

Her whole body moved fast, low, and aggressively. She grabbed the edge of his jacket, stuck her other foot behind his knee, and threw him.

As his body hit the ground, drywall dust flew everywhere. Before he could catch himself, she was on top of him, straddling his hips, hair falling over her shoulders. Her forearm slammed into his throat, her other fist shaking, ready to hit.

Her face was twisted in pure anger. No words. Just ragged breathing, sharp and wild as she pressed her weight deeply into his throat. Instead of moving for another hit, she reached down, gripping his mask and ripping it off his face.

Rain poured down on her, the smell of rotten wood filling her senses as she stared down at Hollow. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with breaths as she attempted to register what she was looking at. A human

”You’re a hunter,” she said breathlessly. She released her pressure on his back, still straddling him, staring down at him.

“Warden.” He corrected despite needing to save his words.

Suddenly, her body stumbled. Falling as if drunk, Vex wobbled slightly to the right, attempting to catch her balance.

“Steady…” Sean managed to get out before coughing. He reached for her wrists, pulling her center. Her body followed in submission as her head rolled back slightly. He raised his knees for her to rest her back onto. “Lean back… Ugh. Fuck this hurts… I should’ve shot you.” He forced the complaint out stubbornly before letting his hands drop with a thud. His head tilted back, leaving his eyes to focus on the cracked and leaking ceiling. “We can't keep doing this, Vex,” he said weakly, though there was a hint of a grin on his face.

Her arms hung down beside her as her head fell back against his knees, looking up at the broken ceiling, still feeling the rain fall against her face. Her chest continued to rise and fall with deep, shallow breaths.

“He’s not here… she said softly between breaths. Thunder cracked beyond the wood planks of the warehouse as reality began to shift between real and delusion. “...He’s gone.” Her voice trailed off absently as if attempting to convenience herself.

Her mind slowly started to form itself, her fever breaking slowly as the serum continued to work its way through her bloodstream. Vex sat up straight, reaching for his chest as she steadied herself. Her yellow eyes, dull and fractured.

“You came…” the words once spoken to her by Bear, a haunting memory as she looked down at Sean. She recognized him. Her arms suddenly gave out on her, and her weight collapsed; she collapsed on top of him.

“I did…” He sighed, shutting his eyes from the view of the ceiling. “One…” Sean said with a breath while dropping his knees. He lay there, t-posed on the apartment floor, thinking about how he might have to take a trip to the Bastion later to get looked at for injuries. Taking a deep breath, as painful as it was, he reopened his eyes. The fighting was done, but the night was far from over. “One problem solved… Now…” He turned his head towards Elodie, refusing to move under his human-shaped weighted blanket. “Elodie… First, sorry for… this. Second… are you alright?”