24. The Hunter
THE HUNTER
For a long moment, nobody moved.
The motel room felt too small, the air too thick, like the walls were closing in. The fluorescent bathroom light flickered behind Soreya, casting shadows that made everything look distorted, wrong.
Reign stood between her and Truitt, his whole body coiled like a spring about to snap.
His breathing was controlled but shallow, his hands trembling slightly at his sides.
The blood on his clothes—dried now, dark brown against the black fabric—was a reminder of what he'd done less than two hours ago.
What he was capable of.
Truitt stood in the doorway, backlit by the hallway light, looking calm and composed in a way that made Soreya's skin crawl.
He was wearing dark jeans and a black North Face jacket, his hands in his pockets like this was just a casual conversation.
But his eyes—God, his eyes were different now.
Sharper. Colder. Like he'd taken off a mask and revealed something predatory underneath.
"You ain't answer my question," Reign said, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous. "What. Do. You. Want."
Truitt's smile widened slightly. "I already told you. Justice."
"Justice," Reign repeated, and he laughed—a dark, bitter sound. "You been playing my girl for weeks, getting close to her, manipulating her, lying to her—and you talking about justice?"
"I did what I had to do to get close to you," Truitt said simply. "You're careful, Reign. You don't let people in. You don't make mistakes. But everybody got a weakness." His eyes flicked to Soreya. "And she yours."
Soreya's stomach dropped.
"You used me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You—you knew about him. You knew what he was. And you used me to get to him."
Truitt's expression softened slightly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sorry, Soreya. I really am. You seem like a good person. You deserve better than this." He gestured toward Reign. "Better than him."
"Don't talk to her," Reign snarled, taking a step forward. "Don't even look at her."
Truitt's hand came out of his pocket, and suddenly he was holding something—a small silver object that caught the light. It took Soreya a second to realize what it was.
A stake.
Not the wooden kind from movies. This was metal—sleek, sharp, designed to kill efficiently.
"You really wanna do this?" Truitt asked, his voice calm. "In front of her? You wanna show her what you really are when you lose control?"
Reign's jaw clenched so hard Soreya heard his teeth grind.
"Who you work for?" Reign asked, his voice steady despite the tension radiating off him. "Who sent you?"
"The Order of Saint Michael," Truitt said.
"We been tracking vampire families across the East Coast for decades.
Richmond's been on our radar for a while, but your uncle Cairo—he's smart.
He keeps things quiet. Keeps the bodies hidden.
Makes it look like gang violence or drug deals gone wrong.
" Truitt tilted his head. "But we know. We always know. "
"The Order," Reign repeated, and something in his expression shifted—recognition, maybe fear. "Y'all supposed to be extinct. We wiped y'all out in the '90s."
"You thought you did," Truitt corrected. "But we rebuilt. Smarter. More careful. And now we're coming for all of you."
Soreya's vision blurred with tears. "I don't—I don't understand. What is this? What are you?"
"I'm human," Truitt said, his eyes still locked on Reign. "But I been trained since I was sixteen to hunt things like him. Vampires. Hybrids. Anything that preys on innocent people."
"Innocent," Reign said, and his voice was cold now, controlled. "You talking about innocent people? How many of us you killed, Truitt? How many vampires you murdered who wasn't hurting nobody? Who was just trying to survive?"
"Vampires don't survive," Truitt said flatly. "They feed. They kill. They destroy lives. That's what you do, Reign. That's what your whole family does."
"We feed from people who consent," Reign shot back. "We don't force nobody. We don't?—"
"You killed that woman tonight," Truitt interrupted. "I watched you. I followed Soreya here, and I watched you drain that vampire operative in the parking lot like she was nothing. You think that's consent?"
"She was trying to kill me!" Reign's voice boomed through the small room, and Soreya flinched. "She was sent by Noctis to kill me and Soreya! I was protecting?—"
"You were feeding," Truitt said. "I saw your face, Reign. I saw how you looked when you drank from her. You wasn't protecting nobody. You was getting high."
The words hung in the air like a bomb.
Soreya pressed her hand to her mouth, trying not to cry, trying not to scream, trying not to completely fall apart.
Because Truitt was right.
She'd seen it. She'd seen the way Reign had looked when he was feeding—the euphoria, the loss of control, the way he'd drunk from that woman like he couldn't stop.
Like he was addicted.
"Soreya," Reign said, his voice breaking. He turned slightly, his eyes finding hers, and she saw the desperation there. "Baby, please. Don't listen to him. He don't know?—"
"I know exactly what you are," Truitt said. "And so does she now."
Reign's expression hardened.
"You need to leave," he said quietly. "Right now. Before I do something we both regret."
"I'm not leaving without her," Truitt said, and his grip tightened on the stake. "Soreya, come with me. I can protect you. I can get you somewhere safe, somewhere he can't find you."
"She ain't going nowhere with you," Reign said, and his voice was pure venom now.
"That's not your choice," Truitt said. "It's hers."
Both men turned to look at Soreya.
She stood there, wrapped in a towel, her whole body shaking, tears streaming down her face.
She looked at Reign—the man she'd loved for six years, the man who'd just revealed himself as a monster.
Then she looked at Truitt—the man who'd seemed so perfect, so safe, who'd been lying to her the entire time.
"I—" Her voice cracked. "I can't?—"
"Soreya, please," Reign said, and he took a step toward her. "I know you scared. I know what you saw tonight was—it was a lot. But I love you. That's real. Everything else—the lies, the secrets—I was trying to protect you from this world. I was trying to keep you safe."
"By lying to me for six years?" Soreya's voice rose, hysteria creeping in. "By making me think I was crazy? By letting me believe you was just cheating when you was out here?—"
"I know!" Reign's voice cracked. "I know I fucked up! But I'm still me, Soreya. I'm still the man who loves you. I'm still?—"
"You're a killer," Truitt said flatly. "You killed that woman tonight. You killed those women who disappeared from your clubs. You?—"
Reign moved.
It happened so fast Soreya barely saw it.
One second Reign was standing in the middle of the room, the next he was on Truitt, his hand wrapped around the hunter's throat, slamming him back against the doorframe with enough force to crack the wood.
Truitt's eyes went wide, his hand coming up with the stake, aiming for Reign's chest.
Reign caught his wrist mid-strike, twisting it with a sickening crack.
Truitt screamed.
The stake clattered to the floor.
"You came into my city," Reign snarled, his face inches from Truitt's, his eyes glowing red now, his fangs fully extended.
"You targeted my woman. You manipulated her.
You used her to get to me." His grip tightened on Truitt's throat, and Soreya heard the hunter choking, gasping for air. "You made a mistake."
"Reign, stop!" Soreya screamed, but her voice sounded distant, muffled, like she was underwater.
Reign didn't stop.
He slammed Truitt against the doorframe again, then threw him across the room. Truitt's body hit the dresser, the TV crashing to the floor, glass shattering everywhere.
Truitt tried to get up, but Reign was already on him.
The fight was brutal.
Truitt was trained—Soreya could see that. He moved with precision, with strategy, going for vulnerable spots, trying to create distance. But Reign was faster. Stronger. And he was fighting with something beyond training.
He was fighting with rage.
With possession.
With the primal need to protect what was his.
Reign grabbed Truitt by the jacket and threw him into the wall so hard the drywall cracked. Truitt's head snapped back, blood pouring from his nose. He tried to fight back, landing a punch to Reign's ribs, then another to his jaw.
Reign barely flinched.
He grabbed Truitt's arm and twisted, and Soreya heard another bone break.
Truitt screamed again, his face contorted in pain.
"You think you can take her from me?" Reign's voice was inhuman now, deeper, rougher, something ancient and terrifying. "You think you can walk into my city, into my life, and take what's mine?"
"She's not yours!" Truitt gasped, blood dripping from his mouth. "She's a person! She got a choice!"
"And she chose me!" Reign roared, and he slammed Truitt into the floor so hard the carpet dented.
Soreya couldn't move.
She stood there, frozen, watching the man she loved turn into something monstrous right in front of her.
But underneath the terror, underneath the horror, there was something else.
Something she didn't want to admit.
She was turned on.
Watching Reign fight for her—watching him unleash everything he was, everything he'd been holding back—it did something to her. Made her feel wanted in a way she'd never felt before. Made her feel like she mattered. Like she was worth killing for.
It was fucked up.
She knew it was fucked up.
But she couldn't deny it.
Reign pulled Truitt up by his jacket, his fangs inches from the hunter's throat. "I should drain you right here. Right now. Make you feel what it's like to be hunted."
"Do it," Truitt gasped, his eyes defiant despite the pain. "Prove her right. Prove you're the monster I said you was."
Reign's jaw clenched.
For a moment, Soreya thought he was going to do it. Thought he was going to bite down and drain Truitt dry right there in the motel room.
But then his eyes flicked to her.
And he saw her face.
Saw the fear. The confusion. The conflict.
Reign's expression shifted.
He shoved Truitt away, sending him sprawling across the floor.
"Get out," Reign said, his voice low and dangerous. "Get out of Richmond. Get out of Virginia. And if I ever see you near her again, I will kill you. Slowly."
Truitt coughed, blood dripping from his mouth, his arm hanging at an unnatural angle. He looked at Soreya one last time.
"If you stay with him," Truitt said, his voice hoarse, "you gonna end up dead. Or worse."
Then he stumbled to his feet and limped out of the room, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
The door swung shut.
Silence.
Reign stood in the middle of the destroyed motel room, his chest heaving, his hands still trembling with adrenaline. His eyes were still glowing faintly, his fangs still extended, his whole body vibrating with barely-contained violence.
He looked at Soreya.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."
Soreya didn't respond.
She just stared at him, her whole body shaking, tears streaming down her face.
"He was using you," Reign continued, his voice desperate now. "Everything he said, everything he did—it was all to get to me. He don't care about you, Soreya. He was just?—"
"I know," Soreya said quietly.
Reign stopped, his expression shifting to confusion. "What?"
"I know he was using me." Soreya's voice was hollow. "I figured that out the second he walked in here. But that don't change what you are, Reign. That don't change what I saw tonight."
Reign's face crumpled.
"I know," he whispered. "I know, baby. But I'm still me. I'm still the man who loves you. I'm still?—"
His phone rang.
The sound cut through the tension like a knife.
Reign pulled his phone out of his pocket, glanced at the screen, and his whole body went rigid.
Cairo.
"Don't answer it," Soreya said, her voice shaking.
Reign looked at her, his expression torn.
The phone kept ringing.
"I have to," he said quietly.
He answered.