Chapter 15 Kit
KIT
The Black Dog was loud that night. Laughter and clinking glasses filled the air, the hum of cheap music vibrating through the warped floorboards.
The smell of beer, sweat, and fried food clung to the walls like a second skin. I sat at the corner table with my temporary team for the week, pretending to drink the whiskey in front of me.
The stuff burned all the way down, though I hadn’t had more than a sip. I was only here for appearances. Hunters liked their camaraderie, their late-night drinks after a successful job.
Apparently, now that Grayson had decided I was “doing better,” I had to start pretending I enjoyed the team spirit again.
A week ago, I’d told him flat-out that I didn’t want back in the rotation. I didn’t want real assignments. I was fine running interference on false alarms and cleaning up paperwork.
But Grayson never really listened, He had that disappointed father look that made it impossible to argue without feeling like a brat.
So, I’d done the job, hunting down a feral werewolf. I’d smiled through the debriefing, endured the congratulations. Then I’d let my team drag me here for a “celebratory drink.”
All I could think about was how much I wanted to leave. How much I wanted to be somewhere quiet, with Simon. I swirled the amber liquid in my glass, letting the ice clink softly.
The sound helped drown out the noise of the bar.
“Come on, Kit,” Jaden said, nudging me with an elbow. “You’ve been staring into that drink for ten minutes. Relax, have a little fun.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I’ll try.”
The table laughed, and I forced a chuckle too. I’d gotten good at that, pretending.
Pretending I cared, pretending I wasn’t counting the minutes until I could slip away and head toward the old Ashford property. Simon would be waiting.
“Another round?” Jaden asked, waving down the bartender.
I shook my head. “I’m good. I’ve got to keep my wits if Grayson decides to call in early tomorrow.”
“Right,” Jaden said with a grin, raising his glass in mock salute. “Always the responsible one.”
I was about to make some half-hearted joke in response when I caught a voice from a nearby table. It cut through the noise of the bar, sharp and familiar.
Marcus.
I froze, the laughter around me fading into white noise.
Marcus was leaning over his drink, talking animatedly to two hunters I vaguely recognized from another division. He looked exactly the same as I remembered.
Smug and confident, the kind of guy who thought hunting was a sport. I didn’t want to listen, but the name Ashford caught my attention.
“…told you, man,” Marcus was saying, voice pitched low but not low enough. “The fledgling’s holed up there. A scout said she saw movement around the property a few nights ago. Probably some weak thing that hasn’t learned to hide its tracks.”
My blood ran cold. Ashford. Simon’s house. I forced myself to breathe, fingers tightening around my glass until the condensation slicked my skin.
“Bet it won’t even last five minutes,” one of Marcus’s friends said, laughing. “Waste of ammo.”
Marcus grinned. “Then we won’t use any. Could be fun to do it old-school. Stakes only. Winner gets the round.”
My chair scraped against the floor before I even realized I was standing. My team glanced up, startled.
“Bathroom,” I muttered quickly.
Before anyone could say anything, I made my way toward Marcus’s table. He noticed me halfway there, his grin faltering into something wary.
“Well, if it isn’t Kit,” Marcus drawled. “So you’re still slumming it around here. Thought you were retired.”
“Hi, Marcus,” I said, keeping my voice casual. My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear myself speak. “Heard you talking about a hunt.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You want in?”
I shrugged, forcing a smirk. “Maybe. Could use the practice.”
His two friends exchanged a look. One of them snorted. “Didn’t you screw up your last few jobs?”
I smiled, sharp and humorless. “Guess I’m due for a win.”
Marcus studied me for a long moment, suspicion flickering behind his eyes. Then, slowly, he grinned. “Sure. Why not? We’re all friends here.”
He punched my arm, harder than necessary. I made myself laugh, even though every muscle in my body screamed to run.
“How about we head back to HQ first?” I said quickly. “Grab some proper gear. No point going in unprepared.”
Marcus snorted.
“Nah. Got everything I need in the van.” He jerked his thumb toward the door. “Come on. We’ll make a night of it.”
I forced a grin, even as my stomach twisted. “Yeah. Sounds great.”
As we stepped out of the bar, the cool night air hit my face like a slap.
My pulse was a steady roar in my ears. Marcus’s van was parked near the edge of the lot, the back door hanging open to reveal exactly what I feared. An arsenal.
Stakes, crossbows, UV grenades, even a couple of silver knives. Overkill for a fledgling. They were laughing, joking, as they piled in.
I climbed in last, wedging myself in the corner seat, hands shaking as I pulled out my phone under the guise of checking messages.
Kit: Hunters are headed your way. They think there’s a fledgling at the house. Hide. Don’t light anything. Don’t move.
I hit send and stared at the screen. No reply. My throat went dry. Simon always replied. Even if it was just a quick message, even if it took him a few minutes. He’d never ignored me completely.
I tried again.
Kit: Simon. Please answer.
Still nothing. I chewed my lip, tasting copper. He’d mentioned wanting to clear out the weeds in the backyard earlier this week.
Maybe he was outside, phone somewhere inside the house. Or maybe—
No. I forced the thought down. He was fine. He had to be fine.
“Yo, Kit,” Marcus called from the driver’s seat. “You look pale. You sure you’re up for this?”
“Fine,” I said shortly.
He grinned. “Good. Don’t want you fainting before we get there.”
They roared with laughter. I stared out the window, fists clenched tight in my lap. The van rattled down the cracked asphalt, headlights cutting through the dark like spears.
The ride felt endless. My phone stayed silent.
By the time we turned onto the overgrown road leading to the Ashford estate, my pulse was a steady, sick drumbeat in my ears.
The house came into view, half-hidden behind wild trees and creeping vines. The same house where I’d spent quiet nights by the fire, Simon tucked next to me.
The same house where Simon had laughed for the first time in a months. Now, these idiots were going to storm in and destroy it.
Marcus killed the engine and hopped out, tossing stakes to his friends like party favors.
“Rules are simple,” he said with a grin. “Whoever kills it first wins. Try not to stab each other.”
His friends laughed. My vision went red for a second. I wanted to tear that grin off his face.
“Maybe I should go first,” I said quickly. “I’ve been here before. I know the layout.”
Marcus waved me off. “Relax, it’s just one fledgling. Won’t last two minutes. Go when I say.”
He nodded to his friends. “Ready?”
They nodded, eager.
Marcus raised his hand dramatically. “Go!”
They surged forward.
I ran too, my heart hammering and my breath sharp, but one of them shoved me from behind. My boot caught on a root, and I went down hard, hitting the dirt with a grunt.
“Careful, old man!” someone laughed behind me. “Don’t trip before the fun starts!”
I pushed myself up, dirt clinging to my palms, the sting of gravel cutting through skin. But none of it mattered. I could see the house ahead, dark and still against the moonlight.
Simon was in there, and I had to reach him before they did.
There were five of us in total. Six if you counted me. Marcus led the charge, his swagger full of the same arrogant confidence that had gotten good men killed before.
The rest of his little gang stumbled after him, laughter thick with alcohol and the thrill of the hunt. They weren’t thinking. They weren’t seeing the truth.
To them, this was just another night’s sport. Another monster to cull. I was the only one who knew the monster they were hunting didn’t deserve to die.
My mind raced, mapping out the house even before we reached the porch. Every corner. Every shadow.
I knew this place now. The creak in the floorboards near the stairs, the room Simon used as his bedroom, the one window that didn’t latch right. He could be hiding anywhere. I couldn’t let them find him.
The moment the group split off into the darkened hallways, I moved. Not toward Simon. Not yet. Toward the nearest hunter. Kyle, I thought, was drunk enough to forget to keep his weapon steady.
His crossbow swung at his side, bolt half-loaded.
He muttered something under his breath about “easy pickings.” I stepped up behind him silently, the way training had drilled into me years ago, and grabbed him by the collar.
Before he could shout, I slammed the butt of my own weapon against his temple. He crumpled like a sack of flour. I caught him before he hit the ground too hard, lowering him quietly to the dusty floorboards.
“One down,” I muttered under my breath, my heart hammering.
My palms were slick with sweat. I wiped them on my jeans, then slipped down the hall.
The next two weren’t far. One rummaging through the kitchen, the other trying to pry open a locked cellar door. Drunk, clumsy, uncoordinated. I almost pitied them. Almost.
The one at the cellar door. Benny, I remembered, was so intent on his lock that he didn’t hear me approach.
I grabbed his arm, twisted it hard behind his back, and slammed him face-first into the wall. He went down fast. Out cold.
The third turned, startled by the sound, and raised his stake. “Who’s there?”
“Relax, it’s me,” I said, stepping into the faint moonlight leaking through the broken window.
He blinked, recognition dawning, right before I drove a fist into his gut. He wheezed, doubling over.
I caught him by the neck, hit him once more for good measure, and watched his eyes roll back.
Three down.
My lungs burned, and my pulse thudded in my ears. This was supposed to be easy. Neutralize, disable, and move on, but every second felt heavier than the last.
The adrenaline that’d carried me through the house was fraying at the edges, leaving a hollow ache beneath my ribs.
The faces of the men I’d knocked out were still ghosting in the back of my eyes, sprawled awkward and human on the warped floorboards. Guild hunters. My people.
Men and women I’d trained with, drank with, stood shoulder to shoulder with until the calls stopped coming through the radio and the rifts between us did.
I wasn’t supposed to be doing this. Not to them and not like this.
Still, the truth that had been nudging at the edges of my thoughts finally pushed through, loud and ugly and honest. What had the Guild truly done for me?
They’d given me training, a purpose. They’d given me structure when my life could have fallen apart into something meaningless. But beyond that, what did they give me?
They weren’t family. Not really. The Guild was an institution. It ate loyalty and spat out wreckage.
My parents had been hunters. They’d died on a job. No one remembered them now but me. The Guild wouldn’t care if I lived or died, but Simon did.
The thought settled over me like a weight and a warmth all at once.
If this night ended badly, what would I do? For the first time I didn’t have a rehearsed answer. I realized then that I’d been acting on instinct more than plan.
I hadn’t just run to save Simon because it was the right thing to do in the moment. I’d run because I couldn’t imagine not running.
My hand went to the small scar along my knuckle. It was old and thin, an echo of an argument I’d had with a banshee years ago.
The Guild had given me that scar. They’d given me more like it. They’d given me awards that sat in boxes and certificates that looked good in fluorescent light.
They’d given me an identity, yes. But it was an identity that could be revoked after multiple screw-ups. A name that could be taken back if I disappointed them enough.
Simon, on the other hand, had given me something that couldn’t be filed away or reissued. He’d given me mornings I wanted to wake into.
He’d given me the stubborn little joy of seeing the way a fire caught the corner of his eye. He’d given me a reason to worry that wasn’t born from duty.
If the Guild found out and this went sideways, what would I do? I felt sudden, stupid clarity. I would quit. I would walk away.
Not because I was brave or noble. Staying meant waking up every day to the same empty rituals and pretending the hollow inside me hadn’t been filled by someone who wasn’t supposed to be mine.
We needed to disappear. A place where the Guild’s reach thinned. A small town where no one knew one.
Somewhere Simon could be safe. Somewhere I could wake up and not have to think about what or who I had to kill next.
The plan felt impossible, ridiculous even, but every thought of it tightened something in my chest and made me feel steady. I wanted to wake up beside him.
I imagined him laughing at some stupid sitcom in the middle of the night, his fingers tangled in mine.
I imagined a life where the Guild was a distant rumor rather than a set of shackles. But it wasn’t just daydreams.
A shout, dragging my mind back to reality.
“Found him!”