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Its grip shifted, preparing for something I probably wouldn't survive. But before it could move, I caught a flash of movement from above.

I braced myself against the creature's grip, mind racing for options. No time to be afraid. No time to...

A shadow moved behind my attacker, so fast I almost missed it. The flash of silver in moonlight was my only warning before a blade struck, severing the creature's head in one clean motion. Black ichor sprayed across my suit as the body slumped forward.

As the dark energy dissipated, the corpse shifted back to the female vampire I'd originally been chasing, her features returning to normal in death. Whatever had been possessing her was gone, leaving behind only the faintest smell of sulfur and rot.

I sagged against the wall, chest heaving, shoulders burning where its claws had been. The whole encounter had lasted maybe thirty seconds, but my heart was hammering like I'd run a marathon.

“Are you actually fucking insane, or just suicidal?”

The voice cut through the alley's darkness, a gruff Midwestern accent thick with irritation. I looked up to find myself staring at a man who radiated danger like heat. Tall, muscular, with the kind of stance that screamed professional killer. His blade still dripped black blood, and his expression suggested he was considering using it on me next.

“Who the hell are you?” I managed, trying to push myself upright without showing how much everything hurt.

“Sean Cullen.” He wiped his blade clean with practiced efficiency. “And you're the one who decided to chase a vampire through dark alleys without proper weapons, backup, or apparently a single brain cell to rub together.”

I straightened my ruined jacket, pride stinging more than my wounds. “I had it handled.”

His laugh was sharp and utterly without humor. “Oh yeah? Was getting your throat ripped out part of the plan? Because that's exactly what was about to happen.”

“I'm a federal agent...”

“You're a dead man walking.” He stepped closer, and I had to fight the urge to step back. “A badge doesn't mean shit against their kind. You went in unprepared, untrained, and you're lucky I decided to follow when I saw you playing hero back at the club.”

Something in his tone set my teeth on edge. “I didn't ask for your help.”

“No? Tell that to your corpse if I hadn't shown up.” His eyes narrowed as he studied me. “What's your game here, fed? What do you think you're doing in my territory?”

“Your territory?” I couldn't help but scoff. “Last I checked, this was CITD jurisdiction.”

“CITD?” Now it was his turn to laugh. “Your little agency doesn't have the first clue what's really out there. You write reports about animal attacks and gang violence while the real monsters hunt right under your noses.”

He wasn't wrong, but I wasn't about to admit it. “So you're one of the Hallow Hunters?”

Hallow—the name carried weight in certain circles. A shadow organization that had existed for centuries, training hunters to identify and eliminate supernatural threats. No government oversight, no official records. Just a legacy of blood and protection most civilians would never know about. They were ruthless specialists who saw the world in stark black and white.

“Something like that.” His smile was all edges. “And you're way out of your depth, federal agent.”

I should have thanked him. Should have been diplomatic. But something about his arrogance, his assumption that I wasjust another clueless government agent, made me want to push back.

“Funny,” I said, “I've been handling these cases for years without any hunter deciding to claim my territory.”

“Then you've been lucky. But luck runs out, pal.” He gestured to the creature's corpse. “That wasn't your average vampire. That was something else. Something older. And it knew you by name.”

I tensed. He'd heard that part. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“No?” His eyes were too sharp, too knowing. “Then why did it call you 'marked one'? Why did it talk about someone wanting you alive?”

“I'm done here.” I pushed off from the wall, ignoring the protest from my ribs. “Thanks for the assist, but I don't need a lecture from...”

His hand shot out, catching my arm. The grip wasn't threatening, but it was firm enough to make his point. “You're going to get yourself killed. And normally, I wouldn't care. But something's happening in this city. Something big, and for some reason, you're connected to it.”

I jerked my arm free. “I don't know you. I don't owe you explanations.”

“No, you don't. But you owe it to yourself to learn what you're really dealing with.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a weathered business card. “When you're ready to stop playing fed and start learning how to actually survive in this world, give me a call.”

I took the card automatically, more to end the conversation than anything else. The paper was thick, expensive, with just a phone number and Sean's address embossed in black.