"What do you want from me?" Michael asked, backing toward the door. He twisted the handle again. Locked. Solid.
Ethan sighed, almost tired. "Michael, relax. You're acting like a cornered cat."
"That doesn't help," Michael shot back, voice tight.
Ethan raised his hands slowly, nonthreatening. "You don't need to be scared just because I'm a vampire." A beat. Then, honestly, "Yes, I want some of your blood—but not in the way you're imagining."
Michael froze. "That's… not reassuring."
Ethan tilted his head, studying him. "Your blood is important. To them." He gestured vaguely toward the walls, the city beyond. "To a war that's been running longer than you've been alive. I'm not here to drain you dry or turn you into a midnight snack."
"I'm here to keep you breathing."
Michael swallowed. "And why should I believe you?"
Ethan's mouth curved into a thin, humorless smile.
"Because if I wanted you dead, this conversation wouldn't be happening."
He shrugged lightly, almost casual.
"I mean—think about it. I've had more than enough chances to snap your neck and be done with you."
Ethan's eyes flicked to Michael's throat—just long enough to make the point—then back to his face.
"So maybe… use your brain a little."
He shifted his weight, casual again, and lifted the bottle for another sip.
"And if I were you," he added, almost lazily, "I wouldn't stand in front of the door. A guest is about to arrive."
"What?" Michael asked, confused—
The door slammed open from the outside.
Michael barely had time to turn before a blur hit him square in the chest. He went down hard, skidding across the floor, breath knocked clean out of him.
A woman stepped through the doorway.
Selene.
Ethan didn't even look surprised. He finished his drink, set the bottle aside, and glanced down at Michael sprawled on the floor.
"Told you so," he said mildly.
Selene took in the scene in front of her.
Michael Corvin—alive, standing in his own apartment.
She'd come here to find him because she needed answers.
The Lycans had spent centuries hiding in the dark. They didn't expose themselves—certainly not for something as reckless as chasing a single human in public. So why now? Why Michael Corvin? What was so special about this one man?
That question was the only reason she'd come to his apartment—to look for clues, something that explained their sudden interest.
She hadn't expected to find him.
And she definitely hadn't expected to find him too—the stranger from the subway. The one who had intervened, vanished, and then casually winked at her like this was all some private joke.
"Hi," Ethan said, straightening.
Selene reacted instantly. Both guns came up, sights locked on his chest.
"Don't move," she warned.
Ethan glanced at the guns, then smiled faintly. "You might want to aim those a little higher, my dear Selene."
A low, echoing howl rolled through the building.
The ceiling groaned.
Selene's eyes snapped upward a split second before the plaster cracked. She pivoted and fired without hesitation, rounds tearing into the ceiling as another howl answered—closer this time.
Michael backed into the corner, heart hammering. His brain refused to keep up. Guns. Vampires. This can't be real. Today had officially gone off the rails.
The ceiling gave way.
With a violent crash, two massive shapes dropped through the wreckage, landing hard on the floor. Concrete shattered. Dust exploded outward. Growls filled the room—deep, feral, hungry.
The creatures rose—slowly at first, then fully—towering shapes.
Bones shifted with wet, grinding snaps. Spines elongated. Claws scraped against concrete as massive frames locked into place, muscle stretching tight beneath coarse, dark fur. Their eyes burned a sick, predatory amber, unblinking, all of them fixed on Selene—
"RRRRAAAARRRGGHHH!"
Michael stared, mouth hanging open, terror locking his body in place.
The Lycans lunged.
Selene didn't hesitate. Both guns barked, muzzle flashes lighting the room as she fired into them while they charged, claws extending, teeth bared, intent on tearing her apart.
One of them never reached her.
A hand closed around the Lycan's throat.
The creature snarled, twisting violently—then froze as it realized it wasn't holding the advantage. It turned its head just enough to see Ethan.
"You don't gang up on a woman," Ethan said calmly.
He lifted.
The Lycan's feet left the floor like it weighed nothing. Ethan slammed it down with brutal force. Tile cracked, dust and shards bursting outward as the body hit hard, the snarl cutting off mid-roar.
For a heartbeat, it lay still.
Then it twitched—snapped back to life.
The Lycan reared up with a feral scream, jaws gaping wide as it lunged straight for Ethan's throat.
Ethan caught it.
His hands locked onto its jaws, stopping the bite inches from his face. Muscles flexed. The Lycan thrashed, claws scraping wildly, hot breath washing over him.
Ethan smiled.
"You have bad breath."
He pulled.
There was a sickening crack. Blood sprayed as the Lycan's head tore free, the body collapsing in a heavy, lifeless heap. Warm blood splattered across Ethan's face and coat.
He froze for half a second, then grimaced, licking a stray drop off his lip.
"…Gross." He spat it out.
The Lycan still standing saw everything.
It threw its head back and let out a short, furious roar—"RRAAAGH!"—raw and enraged.
Abandoning Selene, it charged Ethan head-on.
Ethan didn't even look.
He sidestepped at the last second and drove his foot forward.
Straight to the groin.
The impact folded the Lycan instantly. Even in werewolf form, some weaknesses never changed.
It dropped to the floor with a broken, high-pitched whimper, a pained, animal sound that kept slipping out between ragged breaths—whrrk… whrrk…—clutching itself as rage collapsed into raw agony.
Ethan finally glanced down at it, unimpressed.
"Evolution really missed that spot."
"What the hell are you?" Selene demanded, guns still trained on him, voice steady despite everything she'd just seen.
Ethan smiled. Not wide. Not cruel. Just amused.
"Your friendly neighborhood gentleman vampire."
And then he vanished.
Selene barely had time to register the absence before the world tilted. One moment she was standing—next she was airborne.
Arms caught her cleanly.
Princess carry.
Her instincts screamed. She twisted, trying to bring her guns up, but Ethan was already moving, effortless and fast. Up close, she saw his eyes clearly now—red glowing.
He smiled again. "Relax. I'm not dropping you."
Before she could respond, the apartment rushed past them. Glass shattered as they burst through the opening, rain and night swallowing them whole.
Below, the city dropped away.
Michael screamed.
He was yanked off his feet, dragged along behind them by invisible force, flailing helplessly through the air.
"HEY—WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING—"
"Minor relocation," Ethan said casually, adjusting his grip on Selene as if this were routine. "Trust me. Staying was the unhealthy option."
*****
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