Vera finished writing the address slowly, carefully, like the letters themselves carried weight. She tore the paper cleanly and held it between her fingers, turning slightly toward Liam.
"Here," she said.
Liam reached for it.
Just before his fingers touched the paper, she pulled her hand back.
He paused, looking up at her.
"There’s sothing I want in exchange," Vera said, her voice quieter now, but steady.
Liam tilted his head slightly. "What?"
She hesitated for half a second, then t his eyes. "Your number."
For a mont, Liam froze.
Not because he could not give it to her. Not because it was difficult. It was the surprise of it. The timing. The audacity wrapped in shyness.
He cleared his throat. "Oh."
He glanced down at the desk, then nodded once. "Okay."
He picked up a pen lying near her keyboard and pulled a blank sheet toward him. His movents were calm again as he wrote the number quickly, without flourish. When he finished, he slid the paper toward her.
Vera smiled as she picked it up. It was not a shy smile this ti. It was confident, pleased. She folded the paper neatly and slipped it into her pocket.
Then she handed him the address.
Their fingers brushed briefly as he took it.
She looked up at him through her lashes, her tone light but deliberate. "Don’t be a stranger."
Liam smiled back, polite, charming, practiced. "I won’t."
He turned and walked out of the finance departnt without looking back.
The mont the door closed behind him, the smile vanished from his face.
"Damn woman," he muttered under his breath.
"Wow," a voice said right beside him. "That was cold."
Liam stopped short.
Irina stood inches away, arms crossed, watching him with an amused expression. She had appeared so quietly he had not heard her approach.
"What?" she asked. "You don’t like her? She’s beautiful."
Liam exhaled slowly and shook his head. "Got his address. What else do you want?"
Irina stepped closer and plucked the paper from his hand before he could react. She unfolded it, scanned the address quickly, then folded it again, tighter this ti. She crushed it lightly between her palms, not enough to destroy it, just enough to crease it with intention.
"Let’s go," she said.
She turned and walked toward the exit without waiting.
Liam followed her through the station, past desks, officers, ringing phones, and murmured conversations. No one paid them any real attention. They were just two more bodies moving through the noise.
Outside, the air felt heavier.
Irina unlocked her car and slid into the driver’s seat. Liam got in beside her, closing the door as she started the engine.
He leaned back slightly and looked over at her. "So what’s the plan?"
She pulled out of the parking lot smoothly, eyes on the road. "We go to his house. We look around. We see if anything was left behind."
"And if he is the fledgling?" Liam asked.
"Then the first place he would go after waking would be ho," she replied.
Liam raised his brows and let out a short laugh. "What? You expect him to be there when we walk in?"
Irina shook her head. "No. He would be long gone by now."
She glanced at him briefly. "I’m not looking for him. I’m looking for signs."
"What kind of signs?" Liam asked.
"Blood," she said simply. "Damage. Panic. Half-finished thoughts. New vampires are ssy. They don’t know what they are yet."
Liam nodded slowly. "And if there’s nothing?"
"Then Markov did a better job than I thought," she replied. "Or Leonid never made it ho."
The car fell quiet for a mont as they drove through the city. Buildings passed by in uneven rows. So streets were busy. Others looked abandoned, windows dark, shops closed, signs hanging crooked like they had been forgotten.
"You don’t seem surprised," Liam said after a while.
"About what?"
"That a forensic might co back as a vampire," he said.
Irina tightened her grip on the steering wheel slightly. "I don’t believe in coincidences anymore."
Liam watched her face. "You think Markov knows."
"I think Markov knows more than he’s saying," she replied. "Leonid’s death was buried too fast. Reports altered. Access restricted. That doesn’t happen unless soone is afraid of what might be found."
"And the listening device in your office," Liam added.
"Yes," Irina said. "That too."
She made a sharp turn onto a quieter road. "Soone wanted to know wht I was thinking."
Liam leaned back, eyes scanning the streets. "So this is personal."
Irina let out a short breath. "It always is."
They drove in silence again, the city thinning out as they moved farther from the center. The buildings grew shorter. Older. The streets narrower.
"You handled Vera well," Irina said suddenly.
Liam glanced at her. "You were listening?"
"I was watching," she replied. "From a distance."
He scoffed quietly. "You set up."
Irina smiled faintly. "And you delivered."
"I don’t enjoy using people," Liam said.
"No," she replied. "You just happen to be good at it."
He didn’t argue.
The car slowed as they approached a cluster of residential buildings. Older blocks. Concrete walls. Faded paint. The kind of place people went to disappear.
Irina checked the address again, then parked.
"This is it," she said.
Liam looked out the window at the building ahead. "Let’s hope he left sothing behind."
Irina shut off the engine and opened her door. "One way to find out."
Liam and Irina walked forward without speaking, their footsteps slow and asured as they approached Leonid’s house. The building was old, the kind that carried years in its walls. Paint peeled near the edges of the windows, and the front door sagged slightly in its fra like it had been opened and closed too many tis by tired hands.
Irina stepped ahead and knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Nothing.
No footsteps. No voice. Not even movent from inside.
Liam looked at her sideways, his expression flat, unimpressed. He did not say anything, but the look alone carried enough aning.
Irina noticed it and scoffed quietly. "Don’t look at like that."
Liam still said nothing. He reached for the handle.
With a simple twist of his hand, tal gave way with a sharp crack. The lock snapped cleanly, the door swinging inward slightly as if it had been waiting to be opened.
Irina raised an eyebrow. "You know," she said dryly, "you can’t just go around breaking into doors like this."
But Liam had already stopped listening.
So had Irina.
Because the sll hit them.
It rolled out of the house like a living thing, thick and foul, slamming into their faces with no warning. It was rot. Old blood. Decay that had been sitting, cooking in a closed space.
Irina gagged instantly, her hand flying to her nose. For her, it was ten tis worse. Her senses picked up every layer of it. The sweet note of death. The sour edge of fear. The unmistakable scent of violence.
"What the fuck is that?" she said, her voice tight.
Liam did not answer. He did not know either. He just shook his head slowly and stepped inside.
Irina hesitated for half a second, then followed.
The house was dim. Curtains were drawn tight, blocking out most of the daylight. The air felt heavy, stale, like it had not been disturbed in days. The sll clung to everything, coating the walls, the furniture, the floor.
Irina pressed her sleeve harder against her face. "Yeah," she muttered. "That’s definitely bodies."
Liam turned his head slightly toward her. "How many?"
She closed her eyes and inhaled carefully through her nose, forcing herself to focus past the nausea. Her brow furrowed.
"Four," she said, then paused. "Maybe five."
Liam scanned the living room. Chairs were overturned. A table lay on its side. There were dark stains on the floor that had soaked deep into the wood.
"But there’s nothing here," he said. "No bodies."
"Moved," he started to add.
"In the bathroom," Irina cut in imdiately.
Liam stopped talking.
He looked down the narrow hallway leading deeper into the house. The sll was strongest there. Thickest. Almost unbearable.
He walked toward it slowly, every step controlled, his instincts tightening like a coil inside his chest.
He reached the bathroom door and pushed it open.
Nothing could have prepared him.
The room was small. White tiles stained dark. The bathtub was filled, but not with water. Bodies were cramd inside it, twisted and broken in ways no human body should ever be. Or what was left of them.
He could make out heads. Faces frozen in terror. Eyes wide and empty.
The rest of their bodies were barely recognizable.
Flesh torn apart. Bones exposed. Bite marks torn deep into their necks. Not clean. Not precise. Savage. Violent. Like sothing had lost control and fed without restraint.
Blood coated the walls. The mirror was cracked, splattered red. It looked less like a cri scene and more like a slaughterhouse.
Liam felt his stomach drop.
This was not just feeding.
This was frenzy.
"Liam, step back!" Irina shouted.
He heard her voice, but he was already too far in.
The air shifted.
A sudden movent exploded from the corner of the room.
A claw ca at him fast.
Too fast.
Liam tried to dodge, twisting his body to the side, but he was a fraction of a second too slow. The claws raked across his neck and chest, tearing through fabric and skin in one brutal motion.
Pain flared white-hot.
Before he could react, he was lifted clean off his feet. His back smashed into the wall with a heavy impact, the breath knocked from his lungs as cracks spidered across the tile behind him.
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