Lawrence stalked through the alley, his senses on high alert. The hunters’ movements resonated faintly in his mind—a cold, calculated rhythm as they cleared the hotel floor by floor. He didn’t need to see them to know they were close to their target.

The steady pulse of Kyon’s EchoFlux flickered again, erratic and strained. Lawrence gritted his teeth. There wasn’t much time.

Ahead, the towering silhouette of the luxury hotel loomed against the night sky, its windows glowing faintly with warm light. Lawrence didn’t hesitate. The main entrance would be suicide—too exposed, too many eyes. Instead, he veered toward the service entrance, where a discreet, unguarded door offered a quieter way inside. He reached for the handle, only to feel the faint hum of a security mechanism embedded in the lock.

Lawrence let out a slow breath, his hand tightening into a fist as he channeled Arkamon Flux. The energy surged through him, coating his arm in a shimmering layer of hardened light. With a single strike, he shattered the lock, the door swinging open with a groan.

He stopped and closed his eyes, letting the Flux wash over him, drawing it closer like an anchor to Kyon’s location. His pulse synchronized with the faint vibrations, and a shadow of Kyon’s panic bled into his consciousness.

“They’re closing in on him,” Lawrence muttered, his hand tightening into a fist.

Pulling his phone from his jacket, he dialed Kadir’s number first. The line rang once, then abruptly cut out. Frowning, he redialed, only to be met with static. He tried Harvey Ross next, but the result was the same. His frustration flared.

“They’re jamming the signal,” he realized aloud, his voice tinged with irritation.

He paused, focusing his EchoFlux on the interference. The jamming signal wasn’t random—it was precise, targeted. The hunters had learned to use Flux-dampening technology to disrupt communication, a cruelly efficient tactic against Flux-sensitive individuals.

Lawrence’s lips twisted into a grim smile. Clever, but not clever enough.

Closing his eyes again, he attuned himself to the oscillations, narrowing his perception to the jamming frequency. It took concentration, but after a moment, he found it—a high-pitched, pulsing tone buried beneath the interference. Lawrence let the rhythm sink into his mind and countered with his own.

“The Pulse,” he murmured, feeling the distinct vibration resonate in his chest.

The Pulse wasn’t standard communication—it was raw, instinctual, a connection only possible through EchoFlux. It bypassed technology, cutting directly into the core of another user’s awareness. It was dangerous and draining, but in moments like this, it was indispensable.

With deliberate focus, Lawrence sent out a mental flare, a sharp ripple aimed at Kadir. It took only a second for a response to come.

A strong, steady beat returned, signaling that Kadir had received the message.

Where are you? Lawrence sent through the Pulse, the words forming not in sound but in sensation.

A pause. Then Kadir’s reply came, firm and certain: En route. Five minutes out from the station. We’ll reach you in fifteen. What’s happening?

Lawrence grimaced, his response urgent. Kyon’s in trouble. Conrad’s people are hunting him, and they’re not alone. The hunters are involved. The entire hotel is a trap.

Kadir’s pulse quickened in reply, a ripple of concern. Damn it. What floor?

Lawrence pressed his hand against the cold wall of the station, focusing on the faint signals he could sense from Kyon. It was like trying to pick out a single heartbeat in a storm, but his connection to Kyon made it possible.

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He’s moving—third floor now, heading down. But they’re everywhere. Vampires on one side, hunters on the other.

Kadir’s reply was grim. We’ll be there. Stay alive, Lawrence. Fifteen minutes. No more.

The connection faded as Kadir redirected his attention, likely relaying the information to Harvey. Lawrence exhaled slowly, his breath misting in the cold air. Fifteen minutes. It felt like a lifetime.

But Kyon didn’t have that long.

Straightening, Lawrence adjusted the cuffs of his jacket and began walking toward the exit of the station. His mind was a storm of calculations, every step bringing him closer to the confrontation he knew was inevitable.

Far above, in the lavishly decorated surveillance room of the hotel, Conrad leaned back in his chair, his attention fixed on the array of monitors before him. Each screen showed a different angle of the chaos unfolding in the building—hunters methodically sweeping rooms, vampires closing in on Kyon and Sia, and the occasional flicker of Kyon’s face as he struggled to escape.

Yet it wasn’t Kyon that caught Conrad’s eye.

On one of the monitors, the camera feed from an alley near the hotel’s entrance showed a figure emerging from the shadows. The man moved with purpose, his expression grim, his sharp eyes scanning the area as if seeing more than what was physically in front of him.

Conrad’s lips curved into a sly smile. “Lawrence.”

At his side, Elijah Gerard stood silently, his posture rigid as he observed the screens.

“Did you expect him to stay out of it?” Elijah asked, his voice smooth but laced with disdain.

Conrad chuckled, the sound low and amused. “Not at all. But it’s always fascinating to watch him work. So predictable, yet so infuriatingly effective.”

Elijah’s gaze flicked to the monitor, watching as Lawrence paused just outside the hotel’s back entrance. He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something beyond the range of normal hearing.

“He’s tracking them,” Elijah observed.

“Of course he is,” Conrad replied, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. “But he won’t get far. Not this time.”

Reaching for the intercom, Conrad pressed a button, his voice carrying through the private channel connected to his operatives.

“Faraday,” he said, his tone calm but commanding.

A moment later, a voice crackled through the intercom. “Yes, sir?”

“Lawrence has arrived,” Conrad said, his smile widening. “Intercept him. And Faraday?”

“Yes?”

“Make it quick. I don’t have time for his theatrics tonight.”

Faraday’s chuckle was soft but menacing. “Understood.”

Conrad released the button, leaning back in his chair once more. His gaze remained fixed on the monitor, watching as Lawrence disappeared into the building.

“You’re sending Faraday alone?” Elijah asked, a faint note of skepticism in his voice.

Conrad’s expression didn’t waver. “Faraday is more than capable. And besides, Lawrence isn’t the real prize tonight.”

Elijah said nothing, but his frown deepened as he turned his attention back to the monitors.

Lawrence moved quickly through the hotel’s lower corridors, his footsteps silent against the marble floors. The oppressive weight of the building’s atmosphere pressed down on him, but he ignored it, his focus razor-sharp.

Kyon’s signal was growing stronger, pulling him upward like a thread through a maze. He could sense the chaos above—the hunters’ cold precision, the vampires’ predatory hunger—but he didn’t waver.

Turning a corner, he stopped abruptly. The air shifted, a faint ripple of power brushing against his senses.

“Faraday,” Lawrence muttered, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of the blade concealed beneath his coat.

The assassin stepped into view a moment later, his movements fluid, almost serpentine. Faraday’s pale face was illuminated by the dim light of the corridor, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

Lawrence’s fists crackled with Arkamon Flux, the copper-red energy swirling around his arms and legs, the faint hum of the force field vibrating through the air. He could feel the time ticking away—the lives of Sia and Kyon were at stake. Every moment spent here was one less chance to save them.

The vampire appeared in the dim light, his movements fluid and predatory. Faraday’s pale face was bathed in shadows, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

Lawrence’s gaze narrowed. There was no time for games. He’d have to end this quickly.

“I’d suggest turning around,” Faraday said, his voice smooth and mocking. “But we both know you won’t.”

Lawrence’s jaw tightened. “Get out of my way.”

Faraday chuckled, the sound echoing through the corridor. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

The tension between them crackled like an electric charge. Without warning, Faraday lunged, his body blurring with inhuman speed.

Lawrence reacted instantly, his Arkamon Flux flaring as he moved to meet Faraday's strength. Each strike was precise, the crackling energy of his power making the air pulse with intensity. Faraday’s brute force collided with Lawrence’s calculated blows, the impact of their clash sending shockwaves through the corridor. Sparks flew, and the sound of their battle was drowned by the chaos of the hotel above them.

But Lawrence’s mind wasn’t solely focused on the fight. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Every second was crucial.