Viktor called at the worst possible time.
Luke was walking home from his shift, enjoying the early morning sun, when his encrypted phone buzzed. He'd been mortal for almost two months now, checking in with Viktor twice. Both times, the report was simple—alive, nothing interesting, everything fine.
This call felt different.
Luke found a quiet alley and answered. "What happened?"
"We have a problem." Viktor's voice was tense. "Damien is making moves. He's been quietly building alliances, convincing younger vampires that your absence means weakness. Yesterday he challenged my authority directly in front of the council."
"And?"
"I put him in his place. For now. But he's not going to stop. He smells opportunity." A pause. "There's more. Isabella's been asking questions. About you. About where you really went."
Luke's jaw tightened. Isabella was dangerous when curious. "What kind of questions?"
"Magical ones. She's been researching rituals, old texts. I think she's trying to figure out what you did." Viktor's concern bled through the phone. "If she discovers you're mortal and vulnerable..."
"She won't find me. I'm just another human in a city of millions."
"Are you? Because from what my people tell me, you fought off a mugger in a hospital parking garage with enough skill that it's on security cameras. That's not exactly keeping a low profile."
Luke winced. He'd forgotten about the cameras. "That was different. Someone was in danger."
"Someone specific, I'd wager." Viktor's tone shifted. "You're getting attached. To a human. That's dangerous. For both of you."
"Her name is Maya, and she's not in danger because I'm keeping my distance." Even as Luke said it, he knew it was a lie. He was having coffee with her every night and looking forward to it more than anything else in his day.
"Listen carefully." Viktor's voice went hard. "Isabella is unstable. She's been unstable since you ended things two centuries ago. If she finds out you're mortal and you care about someone, she will hurt that person to hurt you. It's what she does."
"Isabella doesn't know where I am."
"Yet. But she's looking. And Damien's helping her because he wants you dead." Viktor exhaled roughly. "I'm not saying come back. You have eight more months. But be careful. Watch your back. And for god's sake, don't fall in love with a human while you're vulnerable."
Too late, Luke thought but didn't say. He wasn't sure if what he felt was love, but it was definitely something. Something warm and insistent that grew stronger every time they talked.
They ended the call. Luke stood in the alley for a long moment, thinking about Viktor's warnings. He should put more distance between himself and Maya. Every interaction was a risk.
But the thought of not seeing her, not having those 3 AM conversations over terrible coffee, felt unbearable.
When had Maya Carter become the highlight of his existence?
---
Maya's day off started badly and got worse.
First, her landlord called about a rent increase. Two hundred dollars more per month, take it or leave it. There went the tiny amount she'd been saving.
Then the debt collectors called. Three different companies, all demanding payment on medical bills she was already paying. One threatened legal action. Another offered a settlement that was still more than her annual salary.
By noon, Maya was ready to scream.
She tried cooking to calm down, making pasta. But she burned the sauce and cut her finger chopping vegetables. The cut was small but deep, bleeding more than it should.
Maya wrapped it in a towel and applied pressure, watching her own blood seep through the fabric. She'd seen so much blood at work and never flinched. But her own blood made her feel sick and dizzy.
The towel turned red. Maya unwrapped it to check—it was deep, probably needed stitches.
She should go to the ER. But that meant medical bills. More debt.
Her phone rang. Unknown number.
"This is Rachel Morrison from Creditors United. I'm calling regarding the outstanding medical debt of $247,000. Our records show you've missed the last two payments."
"I haven't missed payments. I sent checks."
"We have no record of receiving payment. Until we do, the account is considered delinquent. We'll need immediate payment of $5,000 to avoid legal action."
"I don't have $5,000. I'm on a payment plan."
"The payment plan is void if payments aren't received on time. We'll need $5,000 within ten business days, or we'll be forced to pursue legal remedies including wage garnishment and property liens."
Maya's vision blurred. "I sent the checks. I have proof."
"Then you'll need to provide that proof within ten business days along with the $5,000 payment. Have a nice day, Ms. Carter."
The line went dead.
Maya sat on her kitchen floor, bleeding into a towel, and something inside her finally broke. Not dramatically. Just a quiet internal collapse, like a building giving up after being stressed too long.
She couldn't do this anymore.
---
Luke knew something was wrong when Maya didn't show up for her 3 AM break.
She was always there, without fail. Even on her worst nights, Maya took her break.
At 4 AM, he went to the ER and found Jen at the nurses' station.
"Is Maya working tonight?"
Jen looked up. "You're Luke. The security guy."
"Yes. I was just wondering—"
"Maya called in sick. First time in two years." Jen's concern was obvious. "I tried calling her. She said she was fine, but she didn't sound fine."
Luke's worry crystallized into something sharper. "Do you know where she lives?"
Jen studied him for a long moment, then wrote an address on a Post-it note. "If you're anything other than genuinely worried about her well-being, I will destroy you."
"Understood."
Luke finished his shift, then headed directly to Maya's address. Her apartment was in a worse neighborhood than his own—an old building with a broken security door. He climbed to the third floor and knocked on 3C.
No answer.
"Maya? It's Luke. From the hospital. Jen told me you called in sick. I wanted to check on you."
Still nothing.
Luke pressed his ear to the door. There—breathing. Slow and steady. She was alive.
"Maya, I'm not leaving until you talk to me."
A long silence. Then footsteps. The door opened a crack, security chain engaged.
Maya looked terrible. Pale, with worse dark circles than usual. Her hair was tangled. She wore old sweatpants and a t-shirt with bloodstains.
"Luke? What are you doing here?"
"You didn't show up for break. I was worried." He gestured at the bloodstains. "Are you hurt?"
"It's nothing. Cut my finger cooking." Maya didn't open the door further. "You should go. I'm fine."
"You're not fine."
"I said I'm fine." Her voice cracked. "Just go, Luke. Please."
"Not until you let me in."
"Why? Why do you care?" Maya's composure broke. "You barely know me. We have coffee sometimes. That doesn't make us friends."
"Maya." Luke kept his voice gentle. "You're right. We barely know each other. But I care anyway. And I'm not leaving until I know you're actually okay."
She stared at him through the gap. Something in her expression shifted—the defensive walls cracking.
"I can't do this anymore," she whispered.
"Can't do what?"
"Any of it. The debt. The work. Pretending I'm okay when I'm drowning." Her eyes were dry but devastated. "I can't do it anymore, Luke."
Luke's heart broke. "Let me in. Please. You don't have to do this alone."
Maya hesitated, then closed the door to remove the chain. When she opened it again, Luke stepped inside.
The apartment was tiny and sparse. Cheap furniture, barely any decoration. The kitchen showed signs of disaster—burned sauce, bloody towels in the sink.
"Show me your hand," Luke said.
Maya held out her left hand. The cut was deep, still seeping blood through a loose bandage. Definitely needed stitches.
"You should go to the ER."
"I can't afford it."
"Maya—"
"I said I can't afford it!" Her voice rose, brittle and sharp. "Do you know how much they'll charge me for three stitches? That's money I don't have for debt I can't pay that will never end."
She was breathing hard, on the edge of a panic attack. Luke gently guided her to the couch.
"Stay here. I'll fix it."
"You're not a doctor."
"No, but I know field medicine." Luke found her first aid supplies and cleaned the cut carefully, wrapping her finger with proper pressure.
"The debt collectors called today," Maya said suddenly. "They say I missed payments. I didn't. But they don't care. They want $5,000 in ten days or they're taking legal action."
"That's illegal—"
"I know it's illegal. But fighting it requires lawyers I can't afford." Maya laughed bitterly. "My landlord raised my rent too. Because apparently I wasn't struggling enough already."
Luke finished bandaging her hand. "What can I do to help?"
"Nothing. There's nothing anyone can do." Maya pulled her knees to her chest. "I thought I was strong enough. But I'm not. I'm just... tired. So tired."
"You should go," she said without looking at him.
Luke sat beside her instead. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Why? Why do you care about some random nurse with too much debt and too many problems?"
"Because you're not random. You're kind and strong and you keep showing up even when you're exhausted." Luke chose his words carefully. "And because when I look at you, I see someone who deserves better than what the world has given her."
They sat in silence. Finally, Maya whispered: "Okay."
Luke made her tea and found crackers in her mostly empty cupboards. Maya ate mechanically. They sat together as morning light filled her apartment.
Around noon, she spoke again. "I'm sorry. For being a mess."
"Don't apologize. Everyone breaks sometimes."
"You don't seem like you break."
"I've had my moments. Trust me."
Maya managed a weak smile. "The mysterious Luke Nash."
Eventually Maya dozed off. Luke stayed on the couch, keeping watch, and thought about Viktor's warnings.
Getting attached was dangerous. Caring about Maya put her at risk.
But looking at her sleeping face, peaceful for the first time since he'd arrived, Luke couldn't bring himself to regret it.
She deserved someone who cared. Someone who'd show up when she was breaking.
If that put them both in danger, so be it.
For Maya, he'd face worse risks again.