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“That's what they all say.” He picked up my report again, this time actually reading it. “Three victims in a week. No witnesses. No useful forensics. Just these peculiar wounds and missing organs.” He looked up at me. “You think there's a pattern.”

It wasn't a question. Sterling knew me too well by now.

“I think something's hunting in our city,” I said. “Something that's getting bolder. And I think we both know it's not bears or gang violence.”

Sterling was quiet for a long moment, studying me with that paternal concern that always made me feel like I was eight years old again, trying to explain why I could see things others couldn't.

“You're one of my best agents, Cade,” he said finally. “Smart. Dedicated. But you have a habit of digging into things that should stay buried.” He stood, walking to his window that overlooked the city. “Whatever you think you're onto here... whatever you think you know... be careful how deep you dig.”

I nodded, but we both knew I wouldn't stop. I couldn't. Not when people were dying, not when the monsters thought they could hunt with impunity.

“Is that all, sir?”

He turned back to me, and for just a moment, I thought I saw something in his eyes. But it passed so quickly I might have imagined it.

“That's all. Just... watch your back out there. And Cade?” He waited until I reached the door. “If you do find something... something that can't be explained away... you come to me first. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

As I walked back to my desk, I could feel the weight of Sterling's worry following me. He was right to be concerned. The things I hunted, the secrets I kept, they were dangerous enough to get me killed ten times over.

But as I sat down and looked at those crime scene photos again, at the precise wounds that spoke of something inhuman, I knew I couldn't stop. The victims' injuries told a story of calculated violence, of a predator with intellect and purpose.

After all, I had my own monsters to feed.

The night airhit me like a slap as I left CITD headquarters, my breath curling in visible streams under the streetlights. I had a lead, one that wouldn't make it into any official reports.

The trail led to Purgatory, one of Manhattan's more exclusive nightclubs. From the outside, it looked like any other high-end venue, sleek architecture, red velvet ropes, line of designer clothes and desperate faces waiting to get in. But I'd been watching it for days. Something was hunting here.

I positioned myself across the street, letting the shadows of a doorway hide my presence. The bouncer kept checking his phone, nervous. He knew what was inside, what was using his club as a hunting ground. They always knew.

That's when I spotted him, a figure on the edge of the crowd who didn't belong. Professional. Calculating. Watching the same vampire I was tracking, but with less experience in staying invisible.

I did a casual scan of the street, pretending I hadn't noticed him yet. Leather jacket, military bearing, looking like trouble personified. He was good, but not good enough. Most people wouldn't have noticed how he moved, how his stance suggested weapons hidden beneath that jacket. But I wasn't most people.

Our eyes met briefly across the street. He realized I'd made him, and his expression shifted ever so slightly. Interesting. He hadn't expected anyone else to be hunting tonight.

A commotion at the club's entrance drew my attention. My target was making her move, leading a stumbling Wall Street type toward the back alley. Perfect hunting technique. I'd seen it before, get them drunk, get them alone, then...

I moved to intercept, keeping pace through the shadows. The hunter was moving too, paralleling my course. Great. Just what I needed, competition.

“Please,” the drunk guy was saying as I approached, his words slurring. “My place isn't far...”

The vampire's laugh was like silver bells, beautiful and deadly. “I know somewhere closer.”

That's when I stepped out of the shadows. “Actually, I think the gentleman needs to call it a night.”

The vampire's head snapped toward me, nostrils flaring. Something flickered in her eyes, recognition? Fear? But that didn't make sense. She didn't know me. Couldn't know me.

“This is private,” she hissed, her perfect façade cracking just slightly.

“CITD,” I said, flashing my badge. “And you're going to let him go.”

The drunk guy looked between us, finally sensing something was wrong. “I should... I should call an Uber...”

“Run,” I told him, not taking my eyes off the vampire. Something in my voice must have cut through his drunken haze, because he ran.

The vampire's beauty melted away, revealing what lurked beneath, fangs extending, eyes going blood-red. But instead of attacking, she hesitated. Stared at me like she was seeing something else, something that scared her more than a federal badge.