Chapter 12 #2
My voice broke. Tears blurred my vision as I looked up at him. The room was spinning, and his face doubled as I spoke aloud the phrase I hated.
“—human pet?”
My head tipped back, a strangled sob ripping free as the tears spilled over, hot and unstoppable.
Yendor’s lips pressed into a thin line. “My point exactly.”
Something inside of me gave up, and I staggered back, hitting the desk hard enough to rattle it, the edge digging into my spine.
Alto was hurt because I couldn’t stay out of it. Because I didn’t know my place. Because I—
Yendor brushed at his wrinkled shirt where I’d grabbed him, removing me like dirt, then turned and stalked toward the door.
He didn’t look back, but he paused at the door, and for a moment, the room held its breath.
“He told me not to tell you,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. “Didn’t want you worrying.”
A beat fell between us, then his voice became quieter. His next words came out with an almost bitter edge. “What a mess a thing like you has made.”
Then the door swung open and closed, the sound so final. My world was crumbling to pieces, and just like that, I was alone. Again.
My legs gave out.
The floor came up fast, feeling cold against my palms as I crumpled, and the sound of my guilt tore out of me before I could stop it, loud, broken, ugly, and the shop swallowed it whole.
Folding in on myself, my arms wrapping tight around my torso. I was shaking so hard my teeth clicked together.
Why is it always like this? Why does everything I touch end up breaking? End up beaten and bloody. The questions looped, over and over, louder than my own breathing.
A flash of that alleyway came to mind. The crimson liquid pooling around me as I clutched that frozen lifeless hand.
At some point, the sobs slowed, then stopped. With no more water left in my body to leak out, all that was left was the hollow, empty feeling.
I dragged in one breath, then another, staring at nothing as the weight settled deep in my chest.
Blaming myself didn’t change anything. Didn’t fix him.
Alto’s proud smile when I finished my first car. Tara’s face with its soft, warm smile when she stepped into the shop with something sweet in her hands for me. Then Lark, loud and bright, dragging me into things I didn’t want but somehow always made me feel needed. Wanted.
It was a small circle. So small that it was easy to pull out the common denominator. The one who didn't belong with the others.
My fingers curled against the floor as I pushed myself up, arms trembling under my weight. The edge of the desk dug into my palm as I used it to steady myself, but my breath was uneven, my vision still swimming. For a second, I just stood there, swaying, then I forced my legs to move.
The garage stretched out in front of me, familiar and suddenly… not.
I made it to my cot and dropped onto it hard, the thin mattress creaking under me. My hands hovered for half a second, voicing that small sliver of doubt before my reality crashed into me and I began to move.
The backpack came first.
I yanked it open and started shoving things inside.
Shirts, jeans, whatever I could grab without thinking too hard.
Shoes thumped in next, followed by the small tin of healing balm Alto kept stocked for me.
A couple of snacks from the nearby crate.
Cash from the stash I’d tucked away over the years.
The bag filled faster than I expected, and I paused, staring at what I’d already packed and what couldn't fit.
There was more, way more, but I couldn't take it all with me.
My throat tightened as I reached for a trash bag instead, dragging it open with a rough pull and sweeping the rest in. Papers, books, scraps, anything that felt too much like me. Too much like something that would sit here and remind him of the human he now regretted taking in.
Once it was all bagged up, I checked my phone.
Midnight.
The numbers glared up at me like I’d lost more time than I realized, and I swallowed hard, telling myself to keep moving.
I didn’t know where I was going, but it didn’t matter. It could be anywhere. Anywhere but here.
A human farm, maybe? Somewhere out in the middle of nowhere where no one cared who you were as long as you worked. Something simple. Secluded. Safe.
When the bag was finally full, I slung the backpack over my shoulders. The weight settled heavily against my back as I grabbed the trash bag in one hand.
I stopped and looked around. The garage stretched out in front of me, dim and still, and the memories hit me all at once.
The first car I fixed on my own. The way Alto had hovered just close enough to catch me if I messed up.
The long days trailing behind him, grabbing tools before he asked, learning the rhythm of his craft until it felt like breathing.
Tara’s laugh echoing through the space, the way she’d press snacks into my hands, telling me I was too thin for such a pretty girl.
Nine years. My chest tightened, and a tear slipped free before I could stop it.
“I’ll miss you,” I whispered, my voice cracking in the empty space. “Thank you, and… I’m sorry.”
The words sank into the walls and disappeared.
I scrubbed at my face with my sleeve, turned before I could second-guess it, and headed for the back door.
The alley swallowed me in darkness. Cold air wrapped around my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms as I stepped out. I paused just outside, my eyes scanning the shadows automatically, every instinct prickling awake.
I shifted the bag in my grip and made my way toward the dumpster in the corner, boots crunching lightly against gravel.
The lid creaked as I lifted it, and light flared across the brick wall beside me. Headlights.
I dropped instantly, ducking behind the dumpster, pressing myself into the shadow. An engine roared loud enough to rattle the alley as a vehicle came barreling through.
Another engine answered from the opposite side.
Two cars, and they didn’t pass. They rolled in and stopped.
Engines cut. Doors clicked open, and I sank lower, barely breathing.
“Are you sure this is a safe place to talk?” a smooth voice asked, calm, controlled.
A laugh followed. Sharp and familiar, crawling under my skin. Manshu.
“Yeah,” he called out carelessly. “Took care of the owner earlier. No one’s here.”
It took everything in me not to clench my fists, but I knew that would make noise and draw unwanted attention to me.
“Now talk,” he continued. “You said you had something that would make us both very happy.”
My jaw locked. Every part of me wanted to move, wanted to step out, to swing, to make him bleed for what he’d done to Alto, but I stayed still. Silent. As a stupid, weak human, I knew better.
“Yes,” the other voice replied. “I hear you’ve been having… trouble with Calix Winstale.”
My breath hitched.
“He keeps beating you at everything.”
“He didn’t win the last race!” Manshu snapped, his irritation rising fast. “I did. Me.”
Silence fell before a small chuckle sounded from the mystery man. “But he wasn’t there, was he?”
A loud crack made me flinch, sounding like a fist had hit a hood.
“What if,” the stranger went on, quieter now, “you didn’t have to worry about him anymore?”
My heart stuttered, and I held my breath.
Manshu barked out a bitter laugh. “You think it’s that easy? Taking out someone from the Syndicate? A Desmond?”
“It could be,” the voice said.
Footsteps shifted, gravel crunching underfoot, followed by the sharp pop of a trunk opening.
“With this.”
Curiosity got the better of me, and I edged forward before I could stop myself, peering around the corner of the dumpster.
A black car sat with its trunk open, the interior washed in dim light. Two figures stood behind it. One I knew, one I didn’t.
Manshu leaned in, then jerked back.
“What the—”
“Are you kidding me?” Manshu barked out a laugh, the sound sharp and disbelieving, as he turned the object over in his hands. “You think something this simple is going to kill Calix Winstale?”
He held it up, squinting at it under the dim light spilling from the trunk. Metal caught the glow before a weird, otherworldly shimmer rippled along the sleek build.
Chk-chk.
The sound snapped through the alley, clean and final, and my breath hitched. I knew that deadly sound.
“This is a special weapon,” the other man said, his smooth voice almost bored. “One of a kind.”
Manshu stilled.
“A single shot,” the man continued, stepping closer, “and his body turns to ash. Nothing left to heal. Nothing left to bring back.”
Silence stretched.
Then, slowly, Manshu’s mouth began to curl into something deranged, dangerous.
His fingers tightened around the weapon, reverence replacing disbelief as something darker flickered behind his eyes. Hunger. Obsession.
“And what do you get?” he asked, dragging his gaze up to the man in the shadows.
The man leaned in, close enough that his voice dropped to a whisper.
I couldn’t hear it, but Manshu’s reaction said enough.
His eyes widened. His lips parted slightly, shock cracking through his usual arrogance, before he pulled himself back together and nodded once, sharp and decisive.
“I understand.” Manshu ran his hand over the gun lovingly.
“And you’re sure?” he pressed, tightening his grip again. “This will work?”
“Would I be here if it didn’t?” the man replied, slamming the trunk shut.
Moonlight shifted across his face as he stepped forward. Older lined features and gray hair caught the pale moon rays.
Human.
Shock filled me as I leaned just a little further, trying to see more.
Creeeak.
The metal beneath my weight groaned and both heads snapped toward the sound.
“What was that?” the man hissed.
Manshu’s posture changed instantly. Shoulders rolled forward, eyes sharpening as he started toward the dumpster. “Relax,” he muttered. “It’s safe.”
My breath came too fast, too loud, and I tried to pull back, but it was too late.
A hand shot out, fisting into my shirt and yanking me forward. The world lurched as I was dragged out into the open, light hitting my eyes hard enough to make me squint.
“Oh.” Manshu’s grip tightened as recognition lit his face. “Look who it is.” His lips stretched into something ugly. “It’s my red-tipped pet.”
He gave me a rough shake, eyes flicking over me, then dropping to the backpack, the trash bag crumpled at my feet. Understanding clicked.
“Were you trying to run?” His voice dropped dangerously low. “From me?”
His fingers twisted tighter in my shirt, jerking me closer as his chest rose and fell, quick and sharp. His eyes glowing hypnotically against the night sky.
Behind him, measured footsteps approached. The other man stepped into view, his flat, unimpressed gaze sliding over me once.
“Human,” he said dismissively. “The magic won’t work on her, but the gun will.”
He tilted his head slightly as if the solution were obvious.
“Shoot her.”
Manshu’s head snapped toward him. Something combative flashed in his eyes, but the man didn’t flinch. Not even a little.
“No witnesses,” he added, leaning in just enough for the threat to settle. “Or we find someone else to deal with.”
Manshu drew in a slow breath and looked back at me. For a second, something like regret flickered across his face.
“You shouldn’t have tried to run,” he said quietly.
Bang.
The sound tore through the alley, deafening, and for a second, everything stopped. Then the pain hit.
Hot. Blinding. The pain exploded through my stomach as my body folded in on itself. My hands flew down on instinct, pressing against the wound, as I hung my head. Barely a second had passed, but my fingers were already overflowing with red liquid.
Manshu let go and the world tilted as he threw me aside. My body slammed into the metal garage gate with a loud crash before dropping hard to the ground, air ripping out of my lungs.
“A waste,” he grumbled. “It's a shame.”
Engines roared to life. Headlights flashed across my vision, white, blinding. Tires screeched as both cars tore out of the alley and the silence of the dark rushed in after them.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears, loud and uneven, as I pressed harder against my stomach, trying, and failing, to stop the blood.
It just kept coming, warm and slick, slipping through my fingers no matter how hard I pushed.
My vision flickered in and out. Breath catching, dragging, each inhale harder than the last.
“Via!”
A voice cut through the haze. Sharp. Familiar.
“Via!”
Something hit my cheek, causing a light sting, and my eyes cracked open just enough to see Lark hovering above me, her face blurred with tears.
“Oh my god—” Her voice broke, hands hovering, not knowing where to touch. “Via, w-what happened?!”
My tongue felt thick. Heavy.
“M-Manshu…” The word scraped out. “G-gun…”
“Fuck.” She choked, turning. “Nathan! Help me! Get her up, we have to go, we have to—”
Arms slid under me, lifting, and I caught a glimpse of Nathan over her shoulder.
His eyes were hooded, heavy with something like sorrow, darting between me and Lark’s frantic panic, his mouth pulling into a grim line.
He knew. Of course he did—he was a vampire.
He could tell I was bleeding out far too fast.
My thoughts drifted to the only other vampire I knew and kinda liked. Cal.
Wait. Cal. Calix. Calix Winstale. The gun. Manshu. Death.
My hand twitched, grabbing weakly at Lark’s wrist, pulling her attention back.
“C-Cal…” My voice broke apart. “T-tell h-him… w-warn…” The words wouldn’t come fast enough. “W-Winstale…”
Her grip tightened around mine, eyes wide, frantic, as she called out my name over and over.
My strength drained out with the blood soaking through my hands.
This was it. The only thing I could do. My last shot.
My last breath dragged in as everything began to fade, and I clung to my last prayer. Save him, please. Save Calix Winstale.