On the drive back to the city, Wade trailed behind in the pickup truck, a sense of unease gnawing at him.

He never lets an opportunity for extortion slip by, Wade thought, recalling countless instances where the sergeant had squeezed money out of people for far less. Yet today, after single-handedly slaying those vamps, he'd left without demanding a single dollar. It didn't make sense.

And the farmhouse... How had that jackalvamp remained so passive while being stabbed repeatedly?

Wade couldn't fathom sitting calmly beside the creature, let alone landing such a clean kill. He knew the state of his boss’s body, ravaged by booze and late nights. Just days ago, the guy had been gasping for air after climbing a few stairs. How had he suddenly become so strong?

A memory of him curiously flipping through the H.A.R.M. training manuals earlier surfaced in Wade's mind.

… …

After I parked the cruiser in the station's parking lot, Wade leaned out his window and asked, "So, are you interested in H.A.R.M. techniques, Sergeant?"

I turned, noting the troubled expression on his face, and recalling the reluctance with which he had handed over the manuals earlier.

Shaking my head, I tossed the books through his open window. "Just a quick look. You can have them back."

"That's not what I meant..." Wade caught the manuals, then added, "I've had some experience with these techniques. If you're interested, Sergeant, I could demonstrate..."

His voice trailed off as he frowned, baffled by his own words. One of the driving forces behind his relentless training had been the desire to kill the man standing right before him. Now, he was offering to share his knowledge with this very person.

How quickly things had changed!

Since morning, I seemed like a different person, my actions constantly defying his expectations. A glimmer of hope ignited within Wade. Could it be that I had experienced a change of heart, a genuine desire to turn over a new leaf?

"Take the truck to evidence and have the beastvamp corpses disposed of," I instructed.

Entering the building, I paused at the squad room door, my face etched with fatigue.

My hands had been stained with blood for two days straight. Though it was beastvamp blood, a lingering unease clung to me.

Thankfully, as a rogue sergeant, my official duties were minimal. Simply occupying a chair in the squad room for a few hours would earn me accolades for diligence.

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"Sergeant Kane, up and at 'em so early today?"

I glanced at the midday sun blazing outside the window, then slowly turned my gaze back to the person greeting me.

The man, Babar Khan, was a notorious liar, but also my most valued subordinate. He handled all the dirty work, acting as my confidant.

He and the few others behind him constituted my team.

"Mmm," I grunted, continuing into the room. It was clear to me that these scoundrels were far from upstanding citizens. They preyed on the weak, indulging in debauchery and pleasure.

While their skills might suffice for bullying ordinary people, they were utterly useless against monsters.

I had no interest in engaging in idle chatter with them.

Just as I passed them, Babar hurried after me, seeking approval. "Boss, the task you assigned is complete."

"What task?" I asked, slightly taken aback.

"You told me to gather girls for the tribute," Babar replied with a pitiful look. "It was no easy feat. Given the circumstances, every family is hiding their daughters these days. I even had to use Wade's sister to meet the quota. The boys nearly worked themselves to the bone."

He smirked, adding, "We've already arranged for that hot head to be sent to Tukwila. Don't worry, he won't be back for a good long while."

His words sent a chill through me as a memory resurfaced.

At that moment, a bulky figure appeared in the squad room doorway.

Wade Rivers stood, hat removed, his eyes filled with deadly intent. He slowly raised his gaze to survey the room.

A moment later, a bitter laugh escaped his lips as he drew his pistol.

Change of heart? New leaf? It was all a lie.

A beast will always be a beast.

"Shit! He's back! Protect Sergeant Kane!" Babar shouted, drawing his own weapon along with the six remaining officers. They clustered around me, forming a haphazard shield.

"Wade, are you mad? Drawing your weapon on a superior officer inside the station? Put it down if you want to live!"

Wade, unfazed by the one-against-eight odds, surveyed the group with disdain.

A shootout wasn't the wisest course of action. He dove forward in a blur of motion, pistol morphing into a dagger. With his H.A.R.M. training, these officers were no match for him.

The officers hesitated, none willing to fire the first shot inside the station.

The opportunity vanished in an instant. Wade was upon them, his dagger flashing, fists striking.

Several officers stumbled and fell, terror-stricken. They were fortunate that Wade's intent was not to kill, but to reach his sole target: me.

"Argh... protect Sergeant Kane..."

Babar had expected Wade to be a sting, but nothing like this. His voice now a panicked shriek, he lay on the ground, feigning injury, the others following suit. No one dared stand between Wade and me.

Wade, his face grim, advanced on me with measured steps.

"Put down the knife," I said quietly, hands still at my sides.

"Dared to act, then face the consequences," Wade retorted, his grip tightening on the blade.

A leopard never changes its spots. A hint of savagery curled his lips as he spoke, his voice a chilling whisper. "Kane, be a better man in your next life."

The silver blade flashed.

It descended with deadly force, a bone-chilling sight that left the onlookers gasping.

"Such bravado," I remarked, raising an eyebrow as I finally moved, my hand flying to my police-issued dagger. I didn't draw it for an attack, but instead, plucked the scabbard from my belt.

With a gentle press, the dark scabbard deflected the silver blade, landing lightly on Wade's shoulder before his strike could connect.

Wade's pupils dilated, his mind blanking as if confronted with an impossible scenario.

His body buckled, knees collapsing with a sickening crunch. The knife slipped from his grasp as he fell to one knee, his breath ragged. He braced his arms against the floor, veins bulging in his neck as he strained to move, yet he remained utterly paralyzed.

The sole cause of this immobility was the scabbard pressing against his shoulder.

Wade stared at the blood stained boots before him, his peripheral vision catching my unreadable expression.

My voice was steady, "I said, put the knife down first."