Finn looked up first, his eyes wide with guilt, a dollop of whipped cream smeared on his cheek. Donovan glanced over his shoulder, grinning.
“Asher,” Donovan drawled, licking his fork clean. “Fancy seeing you here. Midnight snack?”
“What are you doing?” I asked, though the answer was obvious.
“Finishing the pie,” Finn said sheepishly, looking like he’d just been caught stealing the crown jewels.
Donovan snorted. “You’re not gonna tell on us, are you?”
Finn shook his head confidently. “He won’t.”
Donovan raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? You do know Asher, right? The stickler for rules? Mr. By-the-Book?”
I folded my arms, leaning against the doorway. “You done?”
Donovan smirked. “What, with the pie? Not yet. Why, you gonna tattle?”
Without a word, I grabbed a fork from the drawer, stepped up to the counter, and stabbed it into the remaining slice.
Finn’s jaw dropped, and Donovan let out a bark of laughter.
“Didn’t see that coming,” Donovan said, passing me the pie plate.
Finn grinned, a childlike innocence lighting up his face. “See? I told you he wouldn’t.”
The three of us stood there in the kitchen, passing the plate back and forth, laughing over nothing, the kind of laughter that made your ribs hurt.
It was a simple moment, one I’d carried with me through the chaos that came later.
Sometimes I wondered if I’d imagined it, a fragment of a life that felt like someone else’s now.
I woke with a start, the memory slipping away like water through my fingers.
My chest felt heavy, the ache of nostalgia mixing with the cold air around me.
I sat up, shivering. Gael still wasn’t back. My jaw tightened as I glanced toward the door. How much time had passed?
The silence pressed down on me, thick and suffocating. Then I heard a faint creak outside, too deliberate to be the wind.
I froze, my heart hammering. The hunters. Had they found me?
My hand darted under the cot, fingers closing around the handle of my hunting knife.
My gun was useless now, the bullets long spent. Slowly, I got to my feet, moving toward the door with careful, silent steps.
The noise came again, closer this time. My breath came in shallow gasps, every muscle in my body coiled tight.
I gripped the knife harder, trying to calm the tremor in my hand.
The door creaked open. A figure stepped inside, pale and tall, dressed in black. Not a hunter. A vampire.
“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice low and steady despite the fear clawing at my throat.
The vampire didn’t answer. His eyes locked on mine, red and unblinking, and then he lunged.
I barely had time to react, throwing myself to the side as his hand swiped through the air where my head had been.
He moved like liquid shadow, too fast for me to track.
