Cassian slept lightly.
He always did.
Years of hunting had trained his body to rest without surrendering awareness. Every sound filtered through his dreams—the distant hum of traffic, the soft creak of the building, the muted drip of water somewhere in the pipes.
When he opened his eyes, it was still dark.
Not night-dark. Pre-dawn dark.
The kind where the world held its breath.
Cassian lay still on the narrow bed of his apartment, staring at the cracked ceiling. His right hand rested near the knife beneath his pillow. He waited.
There it was again.
That sensation.
Not a sound. Not a presence. Just a subtle wrongness, like a note played slightly off-key. The air felt thinner, stretched too tight, as if something had brushed against reality and slid away.
Cassian exhaled slowly and sat up.
His apartment was small. One room. A kitchenette that barely deserved the name. A bathroom with a flickering light he'd never bothered to fix. The place wasn't home so much as a location—temporary, forgettable.
He crossed to the window and pulled the curtain aside.
The street below was empty.
Too empty.
No cars passed. No pedestrians. Even the stray cat that usually haunted the dumpsters was gone. The streetlight across the road buzzed softly, its glow pulsing in uneven intervals.
Cassian felt it then—more clearly this time.
Attention.
Something was watching.
He didn't react. Didn't reach for a weapon. Instead, he leaned against the wall and waited, letting the silence stretch.
Minutes passed.
Then, very softly, a knock sounded at the door.
Cassian's eyes narrowed.
No one knocked like that.
Three taps. Evenly spaced. Polite.
Human.
Cassian moved silently, positioning himself to the side of the door. He didn't look through the peephole. He didn't ask who it was.
He opened the door.
A woman stood in the hallway.
She was tall, wrapped in a long dark coat, her black hair pulled back neatly. Her face was calm, composed, with sharp features and eyes that missed nothing. She looked human. Entirely human.
Which meant nothing.
"Cassian Hale," she said. "You don't know me, but we need to talk."
Cassian studied her. He felt no pressure. No blood aura. No hypnotic undertone.
Nothing.
"Wrong address," he said, and started to close the door.
She stopped it with her foot.
"I'm not here as an enemy," she said calmly. "And I'm not a vampire."
Cassian paused. Slowly, he looked down at her foot, then back at her face.
"Then you're brave," he said. "Or stupid."
"Neither," she replied. "I'm informed."
That earned her a second look.
Cassian stepped back and let the door open. "You have five minutes."
She stepped inside, eyes flicking around the apartment with quick efficiency. She noted the weapons, the exits, the lack of personal items.
"You live like someone expecting to die," she said.
"I live like someone who wants to," Cassian replied.
She almost smiled.
"I'm Serah Kade," she said. "External liaison. Unofficial."
"For who?"
"For people who are very interested in you."
Cassian leaned against the counter. "Get in line."
Serah turned to face him fully. "Elder movement has increased by thirty percent in the last forty-eight hours. Safe routes are being abandoned. Blood courts are dissolving overnight."
Cassian's expression didn't change.
"They know," she continued. "They don't know what you are—but they know something exists."
"And you came here because?" Cassian asked.
"Because the Night doesn't panic without reason," Serah said. "And because hunters don't scare Elders."
Cassian folded his arms. "You haven't said what you want."
Serah met his gaze. "To keep you alive."
That made him laugh. A short, humorless sound.
"Bad career choice," he said.
Serah stepped closer. For the first time, Cassian noticed faint scars along her neck and wrists—old ones. Surgical. Ritualistic.
"You're not the only anomaly," she said quietly. "Just the most visible."
Cassian's eyes sharpened. "Explain."
"Not here."
As if summoned by her words, the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then the apartment plunged into darkness.
Cassian moved instantly, knife in hand.
Serah didn't scream. She didn't move at all.
Outside, glass shattered.
Cassian felt it then—stronger than ever before.
Fear.
Not his.
The window exploded inward.
A body crashed through, landing in a spray of shards and dust. The figure rose slowly, unnaturally smooth, eyes glowing crimson in the darkness.
Then another.
And another.
Three vampires.
No hesitation. No theatrics.
Hunters would have panicked.
Cassian felt… nothing.
One vampire stepped forward, lips curling back. "So this is him."
Cassian tilted his head. "You brought company."
Serah's voice was steady. "I didn't."
The vampire raised a hand—and stopped.
Its brow furrowed.
"What?" it muttered.
It tried again. Blood pressure surged outward, filling the room with crushing force.
Cassian didn't flinch.
The vampire's smile vanished.
The second vampire backed away. "That's not possible."
Cassian moved.
He crossed the distance in two steps, blade flashing. The first vampire barely had time to react before the knife slid cleanly across its throat. It staggered back, choking, then burst into ash.
The second lunged.
Cassian sidestepped, grabbed its wrist, and snapped it with a sharp twist. The vampire screamed—then Cassian drove the blade up under its jaw.
Ash hit the floor.
The third vampire turned to flee.
It made it halfway to the window.
Cassian's thrown knife took it in the back of the skull.
Silence returned.
Dust drifted through the air.
Serah stared at the ash-covered floor, breathing slowly. "You didn't hesitate."
"They were already dead," Cassian said.
The pressure faded—but something lingered.
A pulse.
Deep. Distant.
Cassian felt it like a drumbeat under the city.
Serah swallowed. "They found you faster than I expected."
"Meaning?"
She looked at him. "Meaning this isn't random."
Cassian retrieved his knife and wiped it clean. "Nothing ever is."
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Serah straightened. "You can't stay here."
"I wasn't planning to."
She hesitated. "Come with me."
Cassian paused. Studied her again.
"For now," he said.
They left through the back stairwell, slipping into the waking city as dawn bled faintly across the sky.
High above them, far beyond human sight, something ancient watched the streets below.
And for the first time—
It began to plan.