Cassius didn’t stop her when she stood.
That almost unsettled Faylan more than if he had.
He stayed where he was on the barstool, one hand loose around his glass, the candlelight turning the amber liquor in it to something warm and dangerous. The low music in The Briar Room kept drifting around them, soft enough to pretend the whole conversation hadn’t shifted something under her skin.
Faylan slid a few bills across the bar for her drink and grabbed her jacket from the back of the stool.
For a second, neither of them said anything.
The silence felt intimate in a way she deeply resented.
Then Cassius looked up at her, his expression unreadable now—not smiling, not amused, just watching her with that same unsettling focus that made everything else in the room feel slightly less real.
“You should be careful walking alone tonight,” he said.
The words were calm.
Too calm.
Faylan pulled on her jacket and lifted a brow. “That your version of concern?”
“One of them.”
She made a face, mostly to cover the way the answer landed.
“That’s not comforting.”
“No,” Cassius said softly. “It isn’t.”
For one stupid second, she almost stayed.
Almost sat back down and kept pulling at the thread, even though every instinct she had kept swinging violently between leave now and ask him everything until one of you breaks first.
She stepped back from the bar.
Cassius’s gaze followed the movement.
Not possessive.
Not exactly.
Just aware in a way that made her feel too visible.
At the door, she glanced back once.
He was still watching her.
Not moving.
Not trying to stop her.
Just sitting in the low amber light like temptation had put on a face and decided to wait.
Faylan hated how much the sight of him stayed with her when she stepped out into the night.
The air outside had turned colder.
Not winter-cold, but enough that the dampness in Greythorne’s evening fog slipped under her jacket and settled along the back of her neck. The street outside the bar was quieter than it had been earlier. A few cars rolled past at a distance, their headlights smearing white through the mist, but most of downtown had softened into that strange late-night stillness where the town looked ordinary if you didn’t stare too hard.
Faylan shoved her hands into her pockets and started walking.
She didn’t really have a plan.
Still no home.
Still no intention of answering Rowan.
Still no emotional stability to speak of.
Just movement.
The pulse beneath her ribs answered, slow and measured.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
She exhaled sharply through her nose.
“Not helping,” she muttered.
The fog clung low around the sidewalks, silvered faintly beneath the streetlamps. Greythorne after dark had always felt different than it did in the daylight—prettier, maybe, but also less trustworthy. Buildings looked older at night. Shadows lasted longer. The clock tower in the square always seemed taller.
Faylan kept her gaze away from it on purpose.
As she reached the corner by the florist, her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket.
She ignored it for three more steps.
Then it buzzed again.
With a sigh that was mostly frustration and a little dread, she pulled it out.
The screen lit up bright against the dim street.
7 missed calls — Dad
Faylan stopped walking.
Her mouth tightened.
Below the missed calls sat a string of texts, all from Daniel.
Where are you?
Faylan, answer me.
Please come home.
We need to talk.
I’m not angry. Just come home.
Fay. Please.
The last one hit hardest.
Not because she believed the I’m not angry part.
That was laughable.
But because she could hear him in the wording anyway—tight with worry, trying not to sound desperate, failing a little.
Faylan stared at the screen until the light dimmed and reflected her face back at her in the black glass.
For one brief second, guilt pricked through everything else.
Not enough to send her home.
Not enough to undo the attic, the letter, the way he’d looked at her like she was too dangerous to trust with her own life.
But enough to make her chest ache.
She unlocked the screen again and reread the last text.
Fay. Please.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.
What was she supposed to say?
Hey, sorry, can’t come home right now, still processing the fact that Mom apparently died to keep some bloodline curse thing off me and also there may be supernatural aristocracy involved?
Busy.
At motel. Don’t die.
Nothing felt possible.
Nothing felt enough.
Her phone buzzed again in her hand.
Another message.
Just tell me you’re safe.
Faylan looked away from the screen and out into the street.
Fog drifted through the intersection in thin pale sheets. Across the road, a bakery window reflected lamplight back into the dark. Somewhere farther off, laughter spilled briefly from a passing group and vanished just as quickly.
She typed three words.
I’m fine.
Then stared at them.
Her face twisted.
That was such a lie it was almost insulting.
With a small, tired sound, she deleted the message and locked the screen instead, shoving the phone back into her pocket.
“Coward,” she told herself under her breath.
The pulse beneath her ribs stayed steady.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
She started walking again, this time turning down a quieter side street that would loop her toward the motel eventually if she let it. It was darker here. Fewer storefronts. More apartments above dark windows. One broken streetlamp flickering near the corner. The kind of street people used when they lived in town, not when they were out enjoying it.
Her boots sounded louder here.
The night felt closer.
And somewhere behind her—
a second set of footsteps echoed once.
Then stopped.
Faylan’s spine went tight.
She kept walking.
Slowly.
Casually.
The kind of fake-calm pace women perfected when they didn’t want to spook whatever was already deciding if they were prey.
Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe someone else had turned onto the street and ducked into a doorway.
Maybe her nerves were just shot and Cassius’s warning had lodged itself in her head like a splinter.
The pulse under her ribs answered harder.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Her hand slipped into her jacket pocket around her phone.
She could call Seina.
She could call Daniel.
She could even, in a moment of personal betrayal, call Rowan.
Instead she kept moving.
The street opened briefly at the next intersection, giving her a view down toward the motel road a few blocks away.
No one.
No headlights.
No obvious shadow.
And yet—
the feeling didn’t leave.
If anything, it sharpened.
Not Cassius. She knew that instinctively somehow. His attention felt like a hand at the back of her neck—direct, warm in its own terrible way, impossible to miss.
This was different.
This felt wrong.
Hungry.
Faylan slowed near the mouth of a narrow alley she’d taken a hundred times before in daylight and hated every single time at night. Brick walls. Dumpster halfway down. Shortcut to the motel side road.
She should avoid it.
Her eyes flicked toward the longer route.
The pulse in her chest kicked once, sharper now.
Something moved at the edge of her hearing.
A scrape.
Close.
Faylan turned her head slightly, phone already halfway out of her pocket—
—and knew, all at once, with cold, perfect certainty:
She wasn’t alone.
The realization didn’t come as panic.
It came as certainty.
Cold. Immediate. Unavoidable.
Faylan’s hand tightened around her phone as she turned slowly toward the alley, every instinct in her body sharpening all at once. The world seemed to narrow—sound dulling, light thinning, the edges of everything pulling inward until there was only the stretch of brick and shadow ahead of her.
The alley looked the same as it always did.
Narrow. Dim. A flickering overhead light halfway down casting uneven patches of gold against damp pavement. The dumpster sat crooked against the wall, lid half-open. Trash bags slumped in dark shapes beside it.
Nothing moved.
Nothing—
A sound.
Soft.
Wet.
Faylan’s stomach dropped.
“Okay,” she said quietly to herself, forcing her voice steady. “Nope. That’s a no.”
She took a step back.
Then another.
Her pulse picked up—not the strange steady rhythm this time, but something faster, more human, adrenaline beginning to bleed into her system.
She turned—
—and something slammed into her.
Faylan hit the brick wall hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. Pain flared sharp across her shoulder, her phone slipping from her hand and clattering to the ground as she struggled to orient herself.
A shape loomed too close.
Too fast.
Too wrong.
Her vision snapped into focus just enough to catch it—
A man.
Or something shaped like one.
His face was pale in a way that didn’t belong to skin. His eyes—
God—
They burned.
Not bright.
But deep.
Crimson, like something rotting under the surface.
And the smell—
Rot. Iron. Hunger.
Faylan’s breath stuttered.
“What the hell—”
It moved before she finished.
Faster than anything human should.
Its hand caught her arm, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise instantly, dragging her forward with a strength that didn’t make sense. Faylan gasped, twisting instinctively, her free hand coming up to shove against its chest.
It didn’t budge.
Its head dipped closer.
Too close.
Its nose flared like it was breathing her in.
“—what are you—” its voice rasped, broken, uneven, like it hadn’t been used properly in a long time.
Faylan didn’t wait for it to finish.
She drove her knee up hard.
It hit something solid—bone, maybe—and the creature jerked just enough for her to wrench her arm free and stumble sideways. Her back scraped against the brick, rough enough to sting through her shirt, but she didn’t stop moving.
Run.
That instinct hit loud and clear.
She pushed off the wall—
—and it grabbed her again.
This time by the shoulder.
Hard.
Claws—actual claws—raked across her collarbone as it yanked her back, the fabric of her shirt tearing with a sharp sound that echoed too loudly in the alley.
Pain flared white-hot.
Faylan gasped, her body arching instinctively as warmth spread beneath the tear in her shirt.
Blood.
The creature froze.
Not completely.
Just enough.
Its grip tightened.
Its head tilted.
And then—
it inhaled.
Deep.
Like it had just found something it had been starving for.
Faylan felt the shift immediately.
The air changed.
The thing in front of her changed.
Its eyes darkened, that sick red deepening, its mouth parting slightly as something like hunger sharpened every line of its face.
“Oh,” it breathed.
The sound was wrong.
Too soft.
Too pleased.
Faylan’s stomach twisted.
“Yeah, no,” she snapped, adrenaline finally catching up to her fear. “We’re not doing that.”
She shoved hard against it again, twisting her body at the same time. This time, something in her movement felt different—faster, sharper, like her instincts had suddenly caught up to the speed of what was happening.
The creature staggered back half a step.
Half a step was enough.
Faylan lunged sideways, grabbing the nearest thing—an empty glass bottle sitting beside the dumpster—and swung it.
It connected with a sharp crack against the side of its head.
The creature snarled.
Not human.
Not anything she could name.
It came at her again, faster this time, rage replacing that awful moment of fascination—
—and something inside her answered.
Tap—
Her pulse spiked.
—Tap—
The world slowed.
—Tap—
Silver flashed beneath her skin.
Faylan didn’t understand it.
Didn’t think about it.
She just moved.
This time when it lunged, she twisted away before it could grab her, her body reacting half a second ahead of her mind. Her hand came up instinctively, pressing flat against its chest—
—and something pushed.
Not physically.
Not entirely.
The creature jerked backward like it had been struck, its feet skidding against the pavement as a sharp, almost startled sound tore from its throat.
Faylan froze.
“What—”
The thing recovered fast.
Too fast.
Its eyes snapped back to her, hunger doubling now, rage and something like obsession twisting together in a way that made her blood run cold.
“Mine,” it rasped.
Faylan’s heart kicked hard.
“Absolutely not.”
It lunged again.
This time, she didn’t have time to think, didn’t have time to move fast enough—
—and then it stopped.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
Like something had grabbed it mid-motion and decided it wasn’t allowed to continue.
The creature’s body jerked, its head snapping slightly to the side, confusion flashing across its face.
Then—
it was yanked backward.
Hard.
Faylan stumbled, catching herself against the wall as the thing was dragged several feet away from her, its feet scraping uselessly against the pavement.
A second figure stepped into the edge of the alley’s dim light.
Still.
Controlled.
Familiar.
Cassius.
The difference between him and the creature was immediate.
Not in species.
In presence.
Where the other thing had been chaotic, feral, barely contained—Cassius was precise. Stillness wrapped around him like a weapon. His hand was locked around the creature’s throat, holding it effortlessly despite the way it clawed and struggled against his grip.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
“You picked the wrong one,” Cassius said softly.
The creature snarled, thrashing harder. “She’s—she’s—”
Cassius’s grip tightened.
The word cut off.
“Mine?” Cassius suggested, almost thoughtfully.
Faylan’s breath caught.
The alley went very, very quiet.
Cassius tilted his head slightly, studying the creature like it was something unpleasant he’d found on the bottom of his shoe.
“No,” he said after a moment. “Not quite.”
And then—
he moved.
Fast.
So fast Faylan barely saw it.
One second he was holding the creature.
The next—
it was slammed into the brick wall hard enough to crack something behind it.
The sound echoed sharp through the alley.
The creature went still.
Not dead.
But not moving.
Cassius released it like it no longer mattered.
It crumpled to the ground.
Silence rushed back in.
Faylan stood frozen where she was, her breath uneven, her shoulder throbbing where the creature had torn into her skin. The sting of it was sharper now, the adrenaline starting to ebb just enough for the pain to settle properly.
She pressed a hand to the wound instinctively.
Warm.
Wet.
Definitely bleeding.
“Fantastic,” she muttered.
Cassius turned toward her.
And for the first time since he’d stepped into the alley—
his composure shifted.
Not gone.
Just… focused.
His gaze dropped immediately to her shoulder, to the dark stain spreading through the torn fabric, to the blood seeping between her fingers.
The air between them tightened.
Something in his expression darkened.
Not anger.
Not entirely.
Something else.
Something sharper.
Faylan felt it.
That same strange awareness from before—her body picking up on something before her mind could name it.
The pulse beneath her ribs answered again.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Cassius took one slow step toward her.
“Let me see,” he said quietly.
Faylan didn’t move.
Didn’t step back.
Didn’t step forward.
Just stood there, breathing unevenly, watching him as the reality of everything that had just happened settled in around her.
“You have terrible timing,” she said, her voice a little breathless but still stubbornly steady.
Cassius’s mouth twitched faintly.
“And you,” he replied, eyes flicking once more to the blood on her hand, “are bleeding.”
Simple.
Obvious.
But the way he said it—
low.
Controlled.
Too controlled—
made something in her chest tighten for an entirely different reason.
Because this wasn’t just concern.
And they both knew it.
The alley held its breath around them, the distant sounds of the street muted by the narrow walls and the strange stillness that had settled after the violence. The creature on the ground behind Cassius didn’t move, didn’t breathe in any way Faylan could recognize, and for a second her mind tried to latch onto that instead of the man standing in front of her.
Tried and failed.
Because Cassius was closer now.
Not rushing.
Not lunging.
Just closing the distance in a way that felt deliberate, measured, like every step had already been decided before he took it. The low light from the broken streetlamp caught along the sharp edges of his features, carving shadow beneath his cheekbones, catching faintly in his eyes.
Those eyes—
They weren’t the same.
Faylan noticed it immediately.
They weren’t fully red like the thing that had attacked her, not that sick, feral crimson—but they were darker than before, something simmering just beneath the surface. Like the color had deepened, shifted, not entirely human anymore.
Her breath came slower.
More controlled.
Not because she was calm.
Because something in her was paying attention now.
“Okay,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended, but steady enough. “I feel like I should start asking better questions.”
Cassius stopped a few feet in front of her.
Close enough that she could see the fine tension in his jaw.
Close enough that she could see the way his gaze kept flicking—briefly, repeatedly—to the blood seeping through her fingers before forcing itself back to her face.
“Now would be a good time,” he said.
Faylan let out a short, breathless laugh that didn’t quite land.
“Great,” she muttered. “Love that for me.”
She shifted her hand slightly away from her shoulder, and the movement pulled at the torn fabric just enough to make the sting flare again. Warmth spread further along her skin, the slow, unmistakable drag of blood moving where it shouldn’t.
Cassius’s eyes dropped again.
This time he didn’t hide it as well.
Something in his expression tightened.
Hunger.
Not wild.
Not uncontrolled.
But there.
Present.
Real.
Faylan’s stomach twisted.
“You keep looking at that,” she said, nodding slightly toward her shoulder. “And I’m starting to get the feeling that’s not just a ‘you’re injured’ situation.”
Cassius exhaled slowly, like he was forcing something down.
“It’s not,” he admitted.
That honesty hit harder than she expected.
Faylan stared at him.
“Okay,” she said again, more firmly now. “So let’s just—” she gestured vaguely between them, then toward the crumpled body behind him, “—acknowledge the situation.”
Cassius arched a brow slightly.
“By all means.”
Faylan pointed, her movements sharper now, adrenaline still threading through her system. “That thing back there just tried to eat me.”
“Yes.”
“You showed up out of nowhere, threw it into a wall like it weighed nothing, and are now standing here acting like this is a normal Tuesday.”
“Yes.”
“And your eyes are doing something,” she added, narrowing her own. “Which I’m choosing not to fully process yet because I’d like to stay functional for at least another five minutes.”
Cassius’s mouth curved faintly despite everything.
“I appreciate your commitment.”
Faylan stared at him.
“Stop being calm.”
“I am calm.”
“That’s the problem.”
The air shifted again between them, not quite tension, not quite relief, something in between that felt too sharp to name.
Faylan lowered her hand slowly from her shoulder.
Blood followed the movement, a thin line slipping over her skin, catching the low light.
Cassius’s gaze tracked it instantly.
This time, he didn’t look away.
Faylan saw it.
The exact moment something in him reacted.
His focus sharpened.
His breathing—if it could even be called that—stilled.
His eyes darkened just slightly more.
Her pulse answered.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
“Okay,” she said again, softer now, more cautious. “That is definitely not a normal reaction to someone bleeding.”
Cassius’s jaw tightened.
“You’re not a normal person to be bleeding,” he said quietly.
That landed.
Hard.
Faylan felt it in her chest, in that strange steady rhythm that had been following her since the letter, since the shop, since everything started unraveling.
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Because right now, all I’ve got is: I got attacked by something that shouldn’t exist, and you—” she gestured at him again, slower this time, more deliberate, “—handled it like it was an inconvenience.”
Cassius tilted his head slightly.
“It was.”
Faylan blinked.
“Okay, that’s… worse.”
Silence stretched for a moment.
Not empty.
Heavy.
Faylan’s gaze flicked past him, to the creature on the ground. It hadn’t moved. Not even slightly. The red in its eyes had dulled, the feral edge gone now that it was still, but the wrongness of it lingered. The shape of it. The smell.
Her stomach turned.
“That wasn’t human,” she said quietly.
Cassius followed her gaze briefly.
“No.”
Faylan looked back at him.
“And you’re telling me that like I’m supposed to just accept it.”
“I’m telling you because it’s true.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“It’s accurate.”
Faylan let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through her hair in frustration.
“Okay, great, love that we’re prioritizing accuracy over sanity.”
Cassius watched her for a second, something almost thoughtful in his expression now.
“You already know what it was,” he said.
Faylan’s laugh was short and incredulous. “Oh, do I?”
“Yes.”
“Then please,” she said, gesturing dramatically with one hand, “enlighten me, because the only word my brain is coming up with right now is completely insane.”
Cassius held her gaze.
“Say it anyway.”
Faylan stared at him.
The word sat there.
Obvious.
Impossible.
Every piece of the night lined up around it—the eyes, the speed, the hunger, the way it had reacted to her blood, the way Cassius had moved, the way he was looking at her now—
Her throat went dry.
“That was a vampire,” she said.
The alley didn’t react.
The world didn’t shatter.
Nothing dramatic happened to confirm or deny it.
Cassius just watched her.
Then inclined his head once.
“Yes.”
Faylan blinked.
“Okay,” she said faintly. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”
She nodded to herself once, like that helped.
It did not.
“Vampires,” she repeated. “That’s—great. That’s a thing now.”
Cassius said nothing.
Which was somehow worse.
Faylan looked at him again, slower this time, taking in everything she had ignored before. The stillness. The control. The way he had handled the creature like it didn’t matter.
The way he was standing now.
Too composed.
Too aware.
Too… not human.
Her eyes narrowed.
“…you’re one too,” she said.
It wasn’t a question.
Cassius’s mouth curved slightly.
“There it is.”
Faylan’s pulse spiked.
Tap—Tap—Tap—
“Oh my God,” she whispered, staring at him like she was seeing him for the first time. “You’re—”
“Yes.”
“You’re a—”
“Yes.”
“—and you were just sitting in a bar talking to me like—”
“Yes.”
Faylan pressed her lips together, then let out a breath that was half a laugh, half disbelief.
“Okay,” she said again, quieter now. “I’m going to need a minute.”
Cassius nodded slightly.
“Take it.”
She did.
Or tried to.
But every time she looked at him, really looked at him, her thoughts scrambled again. Because now that she knew, she couldn’t unsee it. The precision in his movements. The unnatural stillness beneath everything. The way he was looking at her now—
Not just like a person.
Like something… significant.
Her gaze dropped briefly to her shoulder again.
To the blood.
Then back to him.
“And you,” she said slowly, “are trying very hard not to react to that.”
Cassius went still.
Completely.
For a fraction of a second, something real crossed his face.
Strain.
Gone just as quickly.
“You notice too much,” he said.
Faylan huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, well, apparently I have to.”
The space between them felt different now.
Not just charged.
Defined.
She knew what he was.
And he knew she knew.
And still—
neither of them moved away.
Faylan’s heart beat harder in her chest, no longer just that steady rhythm, but layered now with something faster, sharper, dangerously alive.
She should be terrified.
Maybe she was.
But not enough to step back.
Not enough to leave.
“Okay,” she said finally, lifting her chin slightly. “So vampires are real. You’re a vampire. That thing was a vampire.”
Cassius inclined his head.
“Yes.”
Faylan held his gaze.
“And somehow,” she added quietly, “this still isn’t the strangest part of my week.”
For the first time since the alley had gone still—
Cassius smiled.
Slow.
Sharp.
Interested.
“No,” he said. “It isn’t.”