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Al stepped out from behind cover, setting his gun down, arms wide open at the alley’s entrance. His eyes were cold, his jaw clenched with determination. There was no hesitation in his movements, just the focused intent of a seasoned killer. The alley’s shadows hung heavy, dawn slowly bleeding through the sky, casting thin slivers of light that barely reached us. The moment I took off Frank the pain had rushed in, immediate and overwhelming, blurring my vision with a hot tide. My ears rang. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, each step a drumbeat in my skull. My knees almost buckled.

Al charged, his fist hurtling toward my head. I ducked, sidestepping just in time, but he twisted, driving his elbow into my ribs with a crack that rattled my bones. The alley spun—brick and sky merging in a dizzying blur. I staggered, barely getting my arm up in time to block his next hit.

We moved like feral animals, unthinking, locked in a fight driven by instinct sharpened skill—two desperate predators battling for survival. His fist smashed into my jaw, pain swallowing my thoughts. My vision went dark at the edges, and I stumbled, the ground shifting beneath me as the alley tilted. I swung back blindly, my knuckles connecting with his ribs, the breath rushing out of him in a ragged gasp. His eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment, I saw it—that killer look, a glint of something cold and merciless.

A predator, just like me.

Al roared, swinging wildly. I ducked low, grabbing his arm and twisting it. He let out a guttural growl, his face contorting in pain, his other hand scrabbling at my grip, nails digging into my skin. He stumbled forward, but he wasn’t down. His boot shot out, slamming into my gut with brutal force. I crumpled, my knees hitting the ground, the impact jolting up my spine. My stomach lurched, bile rising, and I fought the urge to retch. I doubled over, wheezing, the cold air searing my lungs. Al’s fists came down like sledgehammers, raining blows on my back and shoulders, each blow echoing off the narrow brick walls.

The hunger surged, and this time, it was different. This time, I let it in. I let it consume me, filling every crevice of my being until there was nothing left but the raw, gnawing need. Agony twisted through me, a visceral, searing pain that bent my spine and clenched my jaw. My face contorted as I felt my incisors extend—sharp, merciless fangs forcing their way out. What the hell is happening? The thought was fleeting.

I twisted, desperation clawing at me, using his momentum to fling him sideways into the alley wall. He hit hard, a grunt escaping his lips, but before I could press the advantage, he surged back, his knee driving into my stomach again. The pain flared, hot and ugly, but it was distant, like a scream muffled within the trunk of a car.

I wasn’t going to stop. Not now. I bared my teeth—long, sharp, monstrous—and felt the hunger rising higher—a gnawing heat blurring my vision, turning everything red. My hands moved almost of their own accord, fingers finding his throat, squeezing. Al’s hands flew up, clawing at my wrists, his gasps turning into desperate, choking sounds. His eyes bulged, filled with a mix of fear and disbelief, panic flooding in as the fight drained out of him. Al’s pulse thrummed beneath my fingers, frantic and fragile. I tightened my grip, power surging through me, promising an end—

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A soft bell rang. A ding, like a door chime or a—

—a bicycle bell.

We both froze, staring. A kid on a battered old bike wheeled into the alley, a rolled-up newspaper tucked under one arm. He barely glanced at us as he coasted by, whistling some jaunty tune, and tossed the paper between us with a casual flick of his wrist. It hit the ground with a soft thud, the kid already gone, pedaling out the other side without a second glance.

For a moment, it felt unreal—an absurd, almost laughable scene that distracted me from immediately sinking my teeth into his flesh. The sheer ridiculousness of it all hit me, a flash of clarity breaking through the hunger, startling my grip just enough to hesitate—a kid with a paper, and us, two idiots covered in blood, playing at war. It was all too much. I almost laughed—a bitter, manic laugh that would have matched the insanity of the moment.

The sun was up now, crowning the rooftops, spilling gold over the grimy brick and puddles, its warmth a cruel joke against the violence and blood still hanging in the air. It felt like some kind of twisted blessing—a new day in a city that never deserved it.

I glared at Al, my fangs still bared, the hunger a relentless pulse in my veins. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the crumpled paper on the ground. I nodded, loosening my grip just enough.

“Wanna get that?” My voice was a low growl, barely human.

I still held his neck firmly, feeling the blood trickling down from where my fingers had pierced his skin. He trembled, but I allowed him to bend, his movements slow and deliberate, the weight of my threat never lifting.

He hesitated, then slowly, his hand trembling, he reached over, snatching up the paper. He unfolded it, his eyes darting over the headline.

“Care to check the list?” I rasped, the words barely making it past my lips, my vision still tinged with red, the hunger ebbing reluctantly.

Al’s gaze flicked from the paper to me, his shoulders slumping, a weary resignation settling over him. “You’re off the list.”

I glanced at the paper, the bold print glaring back at me—my name, struck through, removed. Just like that.

“Looks like,” I muttered, the fight draining out of me. I pushed the hunger down, my fangs retracting slightly, leaving me exhausted, hollow. I let Al go, stumbling back against the alley wall, my body screaming in protest. I fought the hunger with the last of me.

“Get Frank. Now.” I managed, the words barely a whisper. Al staggered, rubbing his throat, before bending down to retrieve the jacket. He tossed it to me, and I caught it, the leather cool and grounding in my hands. I slipped into it. The pain dulled almost instantly as Frank settled back against my shoulders. A warmth spread through me, the hunger moving just under my control—just barely.

Seriously, you’re a goddamn idiot, Frank’s voice snapped in my mind, sharp but laced with relief.

I looked up at Al, my vision still blurry, my body barely holding together.

“Think you can give me a ride?” I asked.

Al stared at me for a long moment before letting out a weary sigh, his head shaking almost imperceptibly.

“Yeah, Jack. Breakfast after?”

“Sounds good. But you’re buying.”