Page 7 of Finn (Vampire Vows #1)

CHAPTER SEVEN

GAbrIEL

The moment Finn disappeared around the corner, I stood there, frozen. I didn’t trust myself to move.

Didn’t trust myself to feel the spike of emotion that seeing him had brought to the surface. Finn, here. In this city, in my world.

I had forced myself to accept that he was just a memory, a part of my old life that I would never be able to reach again.

But there he was, flesh and blood and so painfully alive.

A low groan snapped me out of my daze, and I looked down to see Ricky slumped on the ground, leaning against the cold, damp wall.

“Who was that?” he mumbled, his eyes struggling to focus, the slight sway of his body betraying how much he’d had to drink.

“Just someone passing through,” I said quickly, giving him a hand and helping him to his feet.

Ricky was a regular, volunteering himself as a blood source for my hunger.

For him, it was part thrill, part addiction, and I was certain he’d be back again. That was the pull we vampires had over them.

“Come on,” I said, offering a steadying arm as he swayed unsteadily. “Let’s get you a cab.”

“Nah,” he said with a playful, tipsy grin. “Unless you’re offering to give me your Blood Mark?”

The familiar ache settled in my chest, hollow and heavy.

Being blood marked by a vampire was like a shifter’s mating mark. It was permanent and binding.

The recipient would live as long as their vampire partner did, tied together for eternity.

Ricky didn’t understand what he was asking for, not really.

And even if he did, it didn’t matter. I had no intention of giving my mark to anyone.

Ever since I’d woken up as this… thing, it was as if the parts of me that felt real had gone silent.

Or maybe I’d just shut them down, letting myself grow numb to the world.

But seeing Finn had cracked something open, reminding me of a life I’d thought was lost forever.

“Ricky,” I said with a sigh. “You’ve had enough. Go home and sleep it off.”

He scoffed. “You’re not my dad, you know.”

Pulling away from my support, he took a shaky step toward the club entrance.

“Someone else in there’s bound to be interested,” Ricky said.

I let him go, watching as he disappeared back into the crowd of dancers and drinkers inside.

People like him who were drawn to the darkness, to the thrill of being bitten were no different from addicts chasing their next high.

I’d tried reasoning with him, had warned him more than once that his so-called thrill-seeking would eventually get him killed.

But he never listened.

It was then that a prickle of awareness spread down my spine. A dark, predatory presence stirred at the edge of my senses.

I slid a hand to my hip and felt the cool handle of my old hunting knife, silver blade glinting faintly under the dim alley light.

I couldn’t be too careful around here.

Silver didn’t work against everything, but it could slow down a lot of things that lurked in Craven Hill’s shadows.

A figure emerged from the shadows, footsteps soundless on the wet pavement.

Despite his size and height, Bram moved with a hunter’s grace.

“Easy,” he said, raising his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “No need to get defensive.”

I relaxed, but only a little.

“Why are you here, Bram?” I asked, not letting my guard down completely.

Bram scanned the alley, his gaze sharp and probing. He possessed senses nearly as keen as a shifter’s.

I couldn’t be sure, but I had the uneasy feeling that he’d picked up on something lingering in the air. A familiar scent I was desperate to keep hidden.

“You let your food go again,” he said, his tone laced with a hint of disapproval.

He meant Ricky, I thought.

“I’m careful,” I said, crossing my arms. “Leaving bodies in Gage’s territory isn’t exactly wise.”

Bram’s gaze grew colder, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“We’re predators at the top of the food chain. Showing mercy is just another word for showing weakness. And the weak, in our world, are culled,” Bram reminded me.

I felt my muscles tense, readying to strike if necessary. “Is that a threat?”

“Just a word of caution.” Bram’s voice softened, almost fond. “I actually like you. You’re competent. Beric hasn’t been this entertained by a new recruit in a long time. But others might see your mercy as a flaw—and use it against you.”

I knew who he meant. “Gael?”

Bram didn’t confirm or deny it, but the flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes was enough.

Gael had already marked me as a threat, or a loose end.

“One of Gage’s enforcers has informed me we’re no longer needed here tonight,” Bram said casually, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be returning to the nest.”

“Go ahead,” I replied, keeping my voice steady. “I still need to eat.”

Bram gave a brief, approving nod. “Happy hunting. Just remember to be back before sunrise.”

I held my breath, waiting until his presence finally faded from my senses.

The tightness in my chest eased, and I exhaled, the tension leaving my shoulders.

Home, Bram had said, as though that place full of death and shadows was a home.

But I’d never felt at home in the Guild, either.

I’d always been something of an outsider, half human and half… something else, something wild.

In the Guild, I had learned early to stay vigilant, to watch my back. But here, with Beric’s vampires, I found myself treading even more carefully.

I took a steadying breath, grounding myself. Finn’s scent lingered faintly in the air. Tracking him would be simple.

He couldn’t have gotten far, and I had always been a good tracker, even before Beric turned me.

I followed the scent trail through the winding alleys, slipping through the shadows with silent footsteps.

The city was alive with the sounds of nightlife, laughter and music echoing faintly as I moved deeper into the maze of streets and alleys.

Finn’s scent was getting stronger, sharper.

When I finally spotted him, he was standing at the mouth of a narrow alley, his shoulders tense as he glanced over his shoulder.

He had heard me coming. Finn had always been sharp, but he had never been hunted by me before.

He didn’t realize how quickly I could close the distance, how silently I could move.

Finn suddenly spun, his hands locked tight around the grip of a revolver pointed directly at my heart.

I recognized the unmistakable gleam of silver bullets in the chamber.

They wouldn’t kill me, not like they would a shifter, but they’d hurt like hell.

“Don’t do this,” Finn said, his voice trembling just enough to betray the silent plea beneath it.

“Finn, we need to talk,” I said, raising my hands slowly. “Put the gun down?—”

Before I could finish, he fired. The shot rang out, echoing off the alley walls.

I saw the bullet coming, tracing its trajectory and twisting out of its path just in time.

The shot went wide, and I could see the frustration and hurt flicker in his eyes.

He tried again, the gun cracking in the silence, but he missed once more.

In two quick strides, I closed the distance between us, tearing the gun from his grip and tossing it to the ground.

For a second, I thought he might stop.

I hoped that losing his weapon might remind him that I didn’t want to hurt him. But I’d underestimated him.

With a glint of determination, Finn whipped out a knife, a flash of silver catching the dim alley light.

He was faster than I remembered, his movements sharp and practiced, the product of hours of training.

Finn lunged, and I only had time to dodge, twisting out of the way as he sliced past me.

I countered with a step to the side, but he pivoted, and his blade skimmed dangerously close to my skin.

We moved in a rhythm that felt agonizingly familiar. Dodging, parrying, striking.

It was just like old times in the Guild, our training sessions, but with a deadly edge that hadn’t been there before.

I could see his frustration, the tight lines of determination etched in his face. He was relentless, his movements fierce and focused.

But I couldn’t bring myself to hurt him.

Every time I sensed an opening, I pulled back, easing off instead of pressing forward.

Memories flooded through me: the hours we’d spent sparring.

The way he’d always thrown himself fully into every session. Finn never backed down, even if it meant taking a hit.

And here he was now, not holding back against me. Not even a little.

He swung the knife again, a clean, controlled motion.

I barely evaded it, feeling the sting as the blade skimmed the side of my cheek.

Blood trickled down, but I ignored it, moving in closer until I finally saw my moment.

With a quick twist, I caught his wrist, twisting the knife from his grip and sending it clattering to the ground.

My other hand pressed him against the alley wall, pinning him there with my weight.

His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, his face inches from mine, his eyes a storm of emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal.

But then something shifted. In his gaze, the anger softened, turning to something that took my breath away.

Before I could even process it, he leaned forward, his lips capturing mine in a tentative, trembling kiss.

The touch was light at first, like he was testing the waters, like he didn’t quite believe he was doing this.

But the spark ignited something inside me that I thought had long since died. I kissed him back, the world falling away in that moment.

His hesitation melted as our kiss deepened, no longer soft but filled with years of longing and all the words we’d left unspoken.

My hands, which had held him in place just moments before, moved gently to his face, my fingers sliding into his hair as I let myself get lost in the feel of him.

For those precious few seconds, we weren’t hunter and monster; we were just Gabriel and Finn, caught in a moment that felt achingly right.

His hands moved to my shoulders, gripping tight, grounding himself as if afraid I might vanish.

Every inch of my body seemed to come alive, every sense heightened by the proximity of him, the feel of his lips, the warmth of his skin.

He tasted like memories, like the life we could have had if the world had been different.

And I knew, in that kiss, I’d never truly let him go.

I was the one who pulled back first, breaking the kiss as a thousand instincts screamed at me to take caution.

We were in Craven Hill.

There were always eyes and ears around here, and I didn’t want this fragile, unexpected connection to be anyone’s ammunition.

“Finn,” I murmured, searching his face, still trying to catch my breath. “We can’t stay here. Let’s go somewhere?—”

The words died on my lips as a sharp, searing pain bloomed in my chest. I stumbled back, a gasp escaping me.

I looked down, disbelieving, at the dagger embedded in my chest.

Finn’s hand was still wrapped around the hilt, his face twisted in an agony that mirrored the pain surging through my body.

Time slowed. I could barely process what had just happened, my mind reeling as I struggled to stay upright.

Finn’s hand trembled as he released the dagger, taking a step back, horror flashing in his eyes.

He looked torn apart, like he’d ripped a piece of his own heart out by stabbing me.

“Gabriel,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt and fear. “I’m so sorry.”

His eyes met mine, and I could see everything in them. The conflict, the torment, the grief.

The pain was overwhelming, but the ache in my chest went beyond the physical wound.

Finn, my Finn, had just plunged a dagger into my heart.

But it wasn’t him I blamed.

It was the world we’d been forced into, the roles that fate had cast us in, making us enemies when all we’d ever wanted was to be something else.

“Finn…” My voice cracked, barely above a whisper.