The gate slid closed behind us with a quiet metallic sound that echoed faintly down the street.

  For a moment the air outside felt different. Lighter. Less controlled. The city stretched out ahead of us in gray morning light, sidewalks still damp from the night before.

  I should have felt relieved.

  Instead my head pounded harder.

  Each step sent a dull pulse behind my eyes, and the nausea that had started at breakfast hadn't gone anywhere. If anything, the fresh air made the dizziness worse.

  I focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

  Cazaro walked beside me, quiet as ever, his pace steady but not rushed.

  Xavian walked on my other side.

  And talked.

  "—I'm just saying," he continued, waving a hand as if finishing a point from a conversation I hadn't even realized had started, "humans tend to exaggerate their importance in situations like this."

  I blinked slowly.

  "What situation?"

  "The current outrage over your article," he replied. "It's fascinating, really. Humans love pretending they have control over things they clearly don't."

  My head throbbed again.

  He kept going.

  "They shout, they protest, they gather in their little churches to condemn things they barely understand. It's almost impressive how much energy they spend accomplishing absolutely nothing."

  I swallowed slowly.

  The sidewalk felt slightly uneven under my feet.

  Xavian kept talking.

  "I mean honestly, if humans truly wanted power they would have organized centuries ago. Instead they rely on moral outrage and newspaper columns. It's charming in a way."

  Another pulse of pain flared in my skull.

  He didn't stop.

  "And now here you are, walking through the city after causing a cultural uproar, and yet somehow the world continues exactly the same as it did yesterday—"

  "Do you ever stop talking?"

  The words slipped out before I could catch them.

  Xavian froze mid-sentence.

  Cazaro glanced at me.

  I stared back at them, my patience finally snapping under the pounding headache.

  "Seriously," I muttered. "Do you just like the sound of your own voice?"

  The silence that followed was immediate.

  My stomach dropped.

  Oh no.

  My hand flew up to my mouth.

  "I—" I shook my head quickly. "I'm sorry."

  The panic hit all at once.

  "I didn't mean that," I said quickly, the words tumbling over each other. "I just—my head hurts and I feel sick and I shouldn't have said that."

  I lowered my hand slowly, glancing nervously between the two vampires walking beside me.

  Xavian was staring at me.

  Then slowly... he started smiling.

  Not offended.

  Amused.

  "Well," he said thoughtfully, "that was refreshingly honest."

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  My shoulders sagged slightly with relief.

  Cazaro's gaze lingered on my face for a moment longer before he spoke.

  "She's sick," he said simply.

  Xavian tilted his head.

  "Yes," he said after a moment. "I noticed."

  Then his eyes flicked back to me.

  "But for the record," he added calmly, "I do enjoy the sound of my own voice."

  Despite the pounding in my head, I almost laughed.

  We walked another block before the buildings started looking familiar.

  The shops gave way to older brick apartments, the sidewalks cracked in places where tree roots had pushed up through the concrete. Paint peeled from the window frames, and one of the streetlights leaned slightly to the side like it had been giving up for years.

  I slowed.

  "There," I muttered, pointing ahead.

  My apartment building stood halfway down the block.

  Calling it charming would have been generous. The brick was faded and uneven, the front steps worn down by decades of people dragging groceries and furniture up them. One of the windows on the second floor had been patched with plastic instead of glass.

  Home sweet home.

  Cazaro's gaze moved over the building without comment.

  Xavian, however, made a quiet sound.

  "You live here?"

  "Yes."

  There was no point pretending otherwise.

  We reached the sidewalk in front of the building, and that was when I saw him.

  Chris.

  Of course he was outside.

  Chris was the building manager, if you could call him that. Mostly he just collected rent late, fixed things slower than he promised, and stood around outside smoking while making everyone uncomfortable.

  He was leaning against the railing now, talking to another man about the empty apartment on the first floor.

  Chris was... hard to miss.

  Overweight enough that his shirt strained around his stomach, thinning hair slicked back like he thought it made him look important, and a permanent expression of irritation that made it seem like the world personally annoyed him.

  He was also a gross flirt.

  Not the charming kind either.

  The creepy kind.

  The kind that leaned too close when he talked to women and made jokes that weren't funny.

  I had learned to avoid him whenever possible.

  Unfortunately, today wasn't going to be one of those days.

  Because the moment we stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the building, Chris looked up.

  His eyes landed on me first.

  Then they slid to the two vampires walking beside me.

  And his entire face changed.

  Oh.

  Right.

  I forgot to mention something.

  Chris hated vampires.

  Not quietly either.

  He was the type who ranted loudly about them whenever politics came up, blaming them for everything from taxes to parking tickets. According to him, the government was corrupt for letting vampires have any authority at all.

  He'd gone on that rant more than once while fixing the hallway lights.

  Now he was staring at the three of us like someone had just dropped a snake in his lap.

  "Well," he said slowly.

  The man beside him went quiet.

  Chris pushed himself off the railing, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Cazaro and Xavian.

  Then back at me.

  "You got interesting friends now, Allysia."

  My stomach tightened.

  Great.

  This was going to be awkward.

  I tried to walk past him.

  "Morning, Chris," I muttered quickly, heading toward the front door.

  Unfortunately, Chris had never been the type to let things go.

  "Hold on a second," he said, stepping in front of me.

  I stopped.

  My head still pounded, and the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to his jacket made the nausea twist harder in my stomach.

  "What?" I asked.

  He scratched his chin, eyes drifting again toward the two men standing behind me.

  "You owe rent."

  Of course he started there.

  "It's due next week," I said flatly.

  Chris snorted.

  "Not anymore."

  I frowned.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Seven-fifty," he said.

  My head jerked up.

  "No," I said immediately. "It's six hundred."

  Chris shrugged.

  "Not anymore."

  "That's not how leases work."

  His mouth twisted into a smug smile.

  "It is when I say it does."

  My headache flared again, sharp enough that I had to steady myself slightly.

  "You can't just raise rent overnight," I said.

  Chris leaned a little closer, that same greasy confidence creeping into his voice.

  "I can if I want to."

  Behind me, I heard movement.

  Xavian stepped forward.

  The shift in the air was subtle, but it was enough that Chris glanced past me, noticing him properly for the first time.

  Xavian smiled.

  It was the same polite, charming smile he used when he was about to enjoy himself.

  "Allow me," he said smoothly.

  Chris frowned.

  "Who the hell are you?"

  Xavian extended his hand casually.

  "Xavian."

  Chris didn't take it.

  Xavian didn't seem bothered.

  Instead he gestured lightly toward the man standing behind him.

  "And this," he continued, his tone suddenly calmer, more deliberate, "is Cazaro."

  Chris's expression didn't change at first.

  Then slowly... recognition flickered.

  Xavian tilted his head slightly.

  "Our leader."

  The word hung in the air.

  Chris swallowed.

  "You will show him respect," Xavian added lightly.

  The casual tone didn't match the weight behind the statement.

  Then his gaze shifted briefly toward me.

  "And Allysia," he continued, "is under his protection."

  The silence that followed was immediate.

  Chris's smug expression disappeared completely.

  The other man he had been talking to earlier took a quiet step backward.

  Chris cleared his throat awkwardly.

  "I... didn't realize—"

  "No," Xavian said pleasantly. "You didn't."

  Chris rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly unable to meet anyone's eyes.

  "Six hundred is fine," he muttered.

  I stared at him.

  Of course now it was fine.

  Xavian didn't move.

  "Actually," he said.

  Chris looked up again.

  "For the inconvenience," Xavian continued, his voice still calm, "you will be paying her rent for the next three months."

  Chris blinked.

  "What? No—"

  The protest died quickly.

  Xavian's smile faded.

  His eyes darkened in a way that made the air around us feel suddenly colder.

  He didn't raise his voice.

  He didn't move closer.

  But something in his expression shifted enough that Chris immediately lifted both hands.

  "Alright," Chris said quickly. "Alright."

  His voice cracked slightly.

  "I'll pay it."

  Xavian held his gaze for another second.

  Then he nodded once.

  And just like that, the tension in the air released.