Chapter 2

Elara stood in front of him, her hand gripping his arm. "Who was it?"

"I don't know." He rubbed his sternum. "But he knew what I am. He smiled at me like he could see right through to the hunger."

"We need to leave. Now."

"And go where?" Glen pushed off the wall. "The basement apartment's the only safe place we've got. If we run blind, we die in the sun."

Elara's jaw tightened. She looked ready to argue, but the bell rang overhead, a shrill metal scream that echoed through the stairwell. Footsteps clattered above them. Students flooded the corridors, their voices a blur of gossip and laughter.

Glen pulled his hood lower and stepped out into the flow. Elara stayed close, her sunglasses hiding her eyes, her shoulder brushing his every few steps. They moved with the crowd toward history class, but Glen kept scanning. Every shadow, every tall figure, every flicker of movement made his muscles coil.

Nothing.

The figure was gone.

History class was a blur of dates and names Glen couldn't focus on. The teacher's voice droned about wars fought by humans who'd never known their world had monsters living in the cracks. Elara sat two rows ahead, her spine rigid, her hand resting on the edge of her desk like she was ready to bolt.

Glen's phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from Elara: Blood bank tonight. We need to move our stash.

He typed back: Agreed. Then we find out who that was.

She didn't reply.

The rest of the day passed in fragments. Lunch in the corner of the cafeteria, backs to the wall. Glen ate nothing—the smell of hot dogs and pizza grease turned his stomach, reminding him of what he actually needed. Elara pushed a tray around but didn't eat either. They watched the doors, the windows, the long hallway that led to the gym.

No one watched them back.

By the time the final bell rang, the sun was already sinking toward the treeline. Graywood's streets glowed orange and gold, and for a few minutes, the world felt almost safe.

Glen and Elara slipped out the side entrance, keeping to the shadows of the building. The air was cool, carrying the scent of wet asphalt and dying leaves. They walked fast, not speaking, their footsteps syncopated on the sidewalk.

Half a block from the apartment, Glen stopped.

The thread in his chest pulled again—sharper this time, like a hook yanking his ribs forward.

"Elara."

She heard it in his voice. Her hand went to the silver knife hidden in her jacket—the only weapon they'd managed to steal from the manor. "Where?"

"Behind us. By the oak tree."

They turned together.

The figure from the school stood under the oak's shadow, its branches bare against the twilight sky. He was taller up close, lean and sharp-boned, with eyes that were the color of old copper. He wore a long coat despite the warmth, and his hands hung loose at his sides, empty.

"Glen Arius." His voice was low, almost gentle. "And Elara Vance. You've been hard to find."

Glen stepped in front of Elara. "Who are you?"

"My name is Corbin. I work for someone who's been looking for runaway vampires." He tilted his head, studying them like specimens. "You're not the first. But you're the first to make it this far."

"The Vampire Lord sent you."

Corbin's lips twitched. "The Lord doesn't know I'm here. There are others who want you alive. People who don't agree with the contract the families signed."

Elara's voice was sharp. "People? Or witches?"

"Both." Corbin took a step forward. "And neither. The world is more complicated than the war you were raised in."

Glen's hands curled into fists. "We're not going back."

"I'm not asking you to." Corbin stopped ten feet away. "I'm offering you a choice. Come with me tonight, and I'll take you to someone who can help you hide better than a basement apartment. Stay here, and the Lord's hunters will find you within the week."

"Why should we trust you?" Elara demanded.

"Because I walked into the sun to find you." Corbin pulled back his sleeve, revealing a pale, unmarked forearm. "I'm human. But I've been hunting the Lord's collaborators for years. I know what he's planning, and it's bigger than selling two teenagers to the witches."

Glen's mind raced. The thread in his chest was still pulling, but toward Corbin now, not away from him. He couldn't tell if it was instinct or something else—some trace of magic he didn't understand.

"What's he planning?" Glen asked.

Corbin's copper eyes flickered. "He's building an army. Vampires, witches, and something worse. And he needs blood from the families to complete the ritual. Yours was supposed to be part of it."

Elara grabbed Glen's arm. "We can't trust him. He could be leading us into a trap."

"She's right to be suspicious," Corbin said. "But I don't have time to earn your trust. The hunters are already in Graywood. I saw their sigils on the north gate this morning. You have until midnight to decide."

He turned and walked away, his coat billowing behind him. Before he disappeared around the corner, he glanced back. "The blood bank. Midnight. If you're not there, I'll assume you chose to run alone."

Then he was gone.

Glen stood in the fading light, the pull in his chest fading to a dull ache. Elara's hand was still on his arm, her grip tight enough to bruise.

"We're not going," she said.

"We might not have a choice."

"There's always a choice."

Glen looked at her—the girl who'd taught him to laugh, who'd risked everything to run with him, who was the only thing in this world that felt real. He wanted to believe her. But the thread in his chest was still there, and it knew something he didn't.

"Let's get the blood first," he said. "Then we decide."

They walked the rest of the way in silence. The basement apartment was dark when they reached it, the blackout curtains sealed tight. Glen locked the door behind them and leaned against it, his heart hammering.

Elara sat on the edge of the mattress they shared, her silver knife in her lap. "What if he's telling the truth?"

"Then we have an ally."

"And if he's not?"

Glen didn't answer. He crossed to the small cooler where they kept the blood they'd stolen, pulled out a bag, and drank. The warmth spread through him, dulling the edges of his fear.

"Then we fight," he said finally. "We've been running our whole lives. Maybe it's time we stopped."

Elara looked up at him, and in the dim light, her eyes were gray as storm clouds. "I'm with you. Whatever you decide."

Glen nodded. The thread in his chest pulled again, faint but insistent, toward midnight and whatever waited there.