7. Truitts Play
TRUITT'S PLAY
He waited until her taillights disappeared into traffic before he reached under the driver's seat and pulled out the burner phone.
The screen lit up with three missed calls from the same encrypted number.
He dialed back.
Two rings.
"Report." The voice on the other end was clipped, professional, no-nonsense. Command.
"Contact established," Truitt said, his voice completely different now—no warmth, no charm, just cold efficiency. "She's exactly where we need her. Suspicious, scared, asking the right questions."
"Emotional state?"
"Fragile. Exhausted. She's been with the target for six years. Classic trauma bond—she knows something's wrong but she can't leave. Perfect leverage point."
"Does she suspect you?"
Truitt thought about the way Soreya had looked at him when he'd asked too many questions about After Dark. The slight hesitation before she'd given him her number. The way she'd pulled back when he'd mentioned people going missing.
"She's cautious," he said carefully. "But not suspicious. Not yet. I played it right—concerned, supportive, safe. Everything the target isn't."
"Good. Timeline?"
"Two weeks, maybe three. She's already investigating on her own. Found the Reddit threads, the missing girls. She's connecting dots. I just need to guide her to the right conclusions."
"And the target?"
Truitt's jaw tightened. "Reign Saint. Confirmed vampire, approximately 176 years old based on property records and historical cross-reference.
Owns After Dark, Smoke & Gold, and three other establishments across Richmond.
Feeds primarily on menstrual blood—consensual transactions with bottle girls and club workers.
Addiction-based behavior pattern, not predatory hunting. "
"Explain the distinction."
"He's not a killer," Truitt said, pulling out a manila folder from the passenger seat.
Inside were surveillance photos—Reign entering After Dark at midnight, leaving at 4 AM.
Reign with women in the VIP section. Reign's Hellcat parked outside Soreya's apartment.
"He feeds, but he doesn't drain. The missing girls aren't his work. "
"Then whose?"
"Rival crew. Noctis's people. They're the ones leaving bodies." Truitt flipped through more photos—grainy shots of a tall, elegant woman with dark skin and predatory eyes entering a warehouse in Southside. "Territorial dispute. The Saint family controls Richmond nightlife. Noctis wants it."
"And the chemist?"
Truitt pulled up a photo on his phone—a screenshot from a viral TikTok. A beautiful Black woman in a lab coat, holding up a vial of amber liquid, smiling at the camera.
Arissa Sterling. VSU Biochemistry. 847K followers.
"Arissa Sterling," Truitt said. "Thirty years old, grad student at Virginia State.
She's created a serum that allows vampires to move during daylight.
It's real—we've confirmed three separate instances of known vampires operating in direct sunlight after administration.
If either crew gets full access to her research, the balance shifts completely. "
"Acquisition status?"
"The Saint family is moving on her tonight. Reign's handling the recruitment personally."
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
"And you're certain the girlfriend doesn't know what he is?"
"Positive. She thinks he's cheating. She has no idea she's been sleeping with a vampire for six years." Truitt's voice was flat, clinical. "When she finds out, she'll break. That's when we move."
"The Order wants the Saint family eliminated by end of quarter," Command said. "This is a high-priority operation. Richmond is a testing ground. If we can dismantle a vampire network this embedded in a major city, we can replicate the strategy nationwide."
"Understood."
"Do not compromise the mission for personal attachment, Agent Kade."
Truitt's hand tightened on the phone.
"I won't."
"You hesitated."
"I didn't?—"
"You hesitated," Command repeated, and there was steel in the voice now. "The girl is an asset. A means to an end. Do not forget that."
Truitt stared at Soreya's contact info on his phone screen. The photo she'd sent him earlier—her smiling in scrubs after a long shift, exhausted but still beautiful.
Just wanted to check it out sometime.
She'd been so careful. So guarded. But she'd given him her number anyway because she was desperate for something normal, something safe, something that wasn't Reign Saint.
"I know what she is," Truitt said quietly.
"Good. Report back in seventy-two hours."
The line went dead.
Truitt sat in the silence of his car, staring at the phone in his hand.
He'd been trained for this since he was sixteen years old.
Recruited by the Order of Saint Michael after his sister disappeared from a club in Atlanta—drained, discarded, left in an alley like trash.
The Order had found him grieving, angry, and looking for answers.
They'd given him purpose. Training. A mission.
Vampires are predators. They hide in plain sight, using wealth and charm and power to mask what they really are. They feed on us. They kill us. And they've been doing it for centuries.
He'd spent thirteen years hunting them. Learning their patterns, their weaknesses, their hierarchies. He'd killed seven vampires in four cities. Clean kills, no witnesses, no exposure.
This was supposed to be his biggest operation yet.
Infiltrate Reign Saint's world through the girlfriend. Gain her trust. Use her to get close to the family. Document their operations, their feeding grounds, their network. Then eliminate them systematically, starting with the leadership.
It was a good plan.
A solid plan.
Except.
Truitt opened the folder again, flipping past the surveillance photos to a handwritten timeline he'd been building for three months:
REIGN SAINT — BEHAVIORAL ANALYSIS
Feeds 3-4x per week, always consensual, always compensated
No kills attributed to him in 6+ years of surveillance
Maintains long-term relationship with human girlfriend (Soreya Vale, 6 years)
Pays her rent, car note, medical bills
Genuine emotional attachment observed
Conflict with family over relationship — overheard argument with uncle (Cairo Saint, patriarch) about "liability"
Truitt had listened to that argument through a directional mic outside Smoke & Gold two weeks ago. Cairo had been furious, telling Reign that loving a human made him weak, made him vulnerable, made him a liability to the family.
Reign had told his uncle to go to hell.
That didn't fit the profile.
Vampires didn't love. They didn't maintain six-year relationships with humans. They didn't fight with their families over a woman's safety.
They fed. They killed. They moved on.
But Reign Saint didn't.
And Soreya Vale didn't know what she was sleeping next to every night.
Truitt's phone buzzed with a text.
Soreya (7:28 PM): Hey. Thanks for coffee today. It was nice talking to somebody normal for once lol
He stared at the message.
Somebody normal.
He wasn't normal. He was a hunter. A weapon. A tool designed to eliminate the supernatural threat that had taken his sister and thousands of others.
But Soreya didn't know that.
She thought he was safe.
Truitt typed back: No problem. Anytime you need to talk, I'm here.
He hit send, then opened his encrypted notes app and added a new entry:
OPERATION SAINT — PHASE TWO
Continue building trust with Soreya Vale
Monitor Reign Saint's movements re: Arissa Sterling acquisition
Document Saint family hierarchy and operations
Prepare for exposure event — girlfriend discovers vampire nature
Extraction protocol: offer Soreya protection in exchange for intel
Elimination timeline: 30-45 days
He closed the app and started the engine.
The Audi pulled out of the parking lot smoothly, blending into Richmond traffic like it had never been there.
Truitt drove toward his apartment in the Museum District—a clean, modern space that looked exactly like what a corporate finance guy would rent. Neutral colors, minimal furniture, no personal photos. Nothing that would raise suspicion.
But in the closet, behind a false panel, was everything he really needed:
Silver-core hollow-point rounds
UV flashbangs
Wooden stakes (ash, oak, and hawthorn)
Tactical body armor
Encrypted communication equipment
Files on every known vampire in Richmond
And a photo of his sister, Kiana. Twenty-two years old, beautiful, smiling. Taken three weeks before she died.
Truitt looked at that photo every morning.
It reminded him why he did this.
Why he couldn't stop.
Why Soreya Vale's pretty smile and exhausted eyes didn't matter.
His phone buzzed again.
Soreya (7:45 PM): Can I ask you something?
Truitt (7:46 PM): Of course
Soreya (7:47 PM): Do you think people can change? Like really change?
Truitt stared at the message.
He thought about Reign Saint. About the way the vampire looked at Soreya in the surveillance photos—like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. About the way he'd fought with his uncle to protect her.
He thought about his sister. About the vampire who'd killed her. About the way the Order had found her body.
Truitt (7:50 PM): I think people show you who they really are eventually. You just gotta pay attention.
Soreya (7:51 PM): Yeah. You right.
Truitt set the phone down and poured himself a drink—whiskey, neat, expensive.
He stood at his apartment window, looking out over the Richmond skyline. Somewhere out there, Reign Saint was moving on Arissa Sterling. Somewhere out there, Soreya Vale was lying in bed wondering if her boyfriend was cheating on her.
And somewhere out there, the Order was watching, waiting for Truitt to deliver the Saint family on a silver platter.
He took a sip of whiskey.
Two weeks, maybe three.
That's all it would take.
Soreya would find out the truth. She'd be horrified, betrayed, terrified. And Truitt would be there—safe, understanding, offering her a way out.
She'd tell him everything.
And then the Saint family would fall.
It was a good plan.
He just had to ignore the part of him that had felt something when Soreya smiled at him over coffee. The part that noticed how tired she looked, how much she was carrying, how desperately she wanted someone to just listen to her.
The part that wondered if maybe—just maybe—Reign Saint loved her enough to be different.
Truitt finished his drink and set the glass down hard.
It didn't matter.
Vampires didn't change.
They couldn't.
And when Soreya finally saw what Reign really was, she'd understand that.
Truitt pulled out his laptop and opened the surveillance feed. Four cameras positioned around After Dark, two around Smoke & Gold, one outside Reign's house.
He'd be watching.
He was always watching.
And when the moment came—when everything fell apart—he'd be ready.