Page 63 of Missing Piece (Neon Scars #2)

V incent sat in his private room at the back of Club Euphoria, fingers combing through Adam’s hair.

Adam slept soundly, head cradled in Vincent’s lap, the soft rise and fall of his still bruised chest a fragile reminder of their recent battle with Richard.

Adam’s wounds were healing but still raw and itchy, so he lay shirtless beneath Vincent’s silk-lined jacket, draped over him like a makeshift blanket.

Vincent barely registered the Jovanovska brothers’ conversation, lost in his thoughts as he stared into the champagne bubbles dancing in his glass.

Guilt gnawed at him over Richard’s disappearance from the warehouse.

The beast within him still seethed, a constant roil of fury pacing just beneath his sternum.

His beast growled at him, whispering insidious doubts: You’ve lost your edge. Weakness will get Adam killed.

Adam doesn’t need a rabid beast right now. He needs me to take care of him, Vincent reminded the beast, but it only growled louder at the notion, yearning to exert its power.

He looked down at Adam’s sleeping face, taking in the dark rings under his eyes and the bandage on his broken nose.

The sight irritated the beast. Adam had been having nightmares he refused to talk about; every time he fell asleep, they seemed to grip him tighter, and more than once, he woke up swinging and screaming.

If you want to keep him, Vincent told the beast, we can’t frighten him.

Vincent’s fingers continued their gentle rhythm through Adam’s hair as he contemplated the conversation he’d have with Marcus.

He knew he had to tread carefully. Marcus had just survived his own brush with death at the hands of hunters while on a date with that timid young man Vincent had attacked under Richard’s influence.

Vincent’s jaw clenched. He’d tell Marcus that Richard was gone, yes. But the rest? Richard’s overcomplicated revenge plot, the missing corpse at the warehouse. Those details would remain buried.

Even as he tried to convince himself, doubt gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

He hadn’t told anyone about Richard’s disappearance—not even the brothers.

He’d wanted Richard to burn to death slowly as the sun rose, to suffer and die alone.

But staring at that blood-stained concrete with no ash or corpse the next day seemed so foolish in hindsight.

Weak, his beast snarled. Should have stayed. Should have watched him die.

Vincent’s gaze dropped to Adam’s sleeping form, his eyes cataloging each wound and bruise. Every choice he’d made in that warehouse had been a gamble, an exercise in trust he didn’t deserve. By some miraculous twist of fate, it had worked.

That wasn’t weak, he told the beast firmly.

But if Richard shows his face again—

No . Vincent shook his head slightly, banishing the thought. He’d made his choice. Richard could rampage across the country for all he cared, as long as he stayed away.

Vincent’s fingers stilled in Adam’s hair as Matteo caught his attention with a flapping hand. The vampire’s eyes darted to his friend, who gestured to his nose and held up two fingers. Vincent nodded, acknowledging the information. Two people were approaching.

He listened intently, picking up the rapid thumping of a human heart beneath the pulsing bass of the club’s music. One human, one vampire then. Vincent assumed it must be Ophelia and Marcus.

“I can hear your heartbeat out there,” he called out, a hint of amusement in his voice.

The curtain pulled back, and Vincent sat up straighter, surprise flickering across his features. It wasn’t Ophelia at all, but Tariq and Caleb. His beast stirred, recognizing the human it had wanted to toy with when unleashed by Richard.

Luka stood, moving to greet Tariq with a warm hug. Vincent was suddenly acutely aware of how he looked to Caleb—Adam’s head resting in his lap, Vincent’s fingers tangled in his hair. It was a position of intimacy, of vulnerability.

The beast growled low in his mind. They don’t know how soft you’ve gotten. Who will come for what is yours next?

Vincent’s jaw clenched. As much as he hated to admit it, the beast had a point.

Neither Tariq nor Caleb knew the extent of his attachment to Adam.

And Tariq had a loud fucking mouth. It was one thing to be protective of a human trial; it was something completely different to be cuddling with one.

The younger vampires in town would undoubtedly hear within the hour.

Word could reach other assholes like Richard .

Fine, he thought grimly. Showtime.

Vincent raised his glass in Caleb’s direction, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Well look who it is, and still in one piece I see.” He took a sip, the champagne bubbles tickling his tongue as he slipped back into his menacing persona like a second skin.

The beast purred, comfortable in this familiar role.

Vincent continued stroking Adam’s hair, the gentle motion grounding him as he patted the empty spot beside him with his free hand. “Come. Sit. I imagine we have a lot to discuss.”

Tariq stepped forward, concern etched on his face. “Vin, don’t—”

But Caleb surprised them all by stepping forward, his voice steady despite the fear rolling off him in waves that tickled Vincent’s nose. “It’s fine.”

Caleb’s movement was stiff and calculated. Vincent watched him approach, taking in the subtle tremors wracking his body. His hands shook, his heart hammered against his ribs so loud it seemed deafening. As Caleb sat beside him, Vincent’s beast stirred, eager to play.

Relax, Vincent told himself. He had smelled this same fear on Adam not long ago, and it had been unpleasant for both of them.

Caleb is not Adam, the beast countered, uncaring.

Caleb stared straight ahead, his gaze fixed on the glowing exit sign. The beast bristled at the lack of attention. “Look at me,” Vincent said, his tone sweet but laced with menace.

He caught a slight movement from the DJ and held up a finger towards Tariq, his eyes locked on Caleb’s face. “You two came to me, not the other way around. We play by my rules in here.” He cocked his head and leaned towards Caleb, giving him a single sniff. “You’re injured. ”

The scent of fear mixed with the tang of blood filled Vincent’s nostrils.

His beast stirred, intrigued, urging him to discover the source.

Vincent hooked a finger beneath the shell of Caleb’s tie, pulling it loose before nimbly unbuttoning the top two buttons of Caleb’s shirt.

The human trembled beneath his touch, barely containing his terror.

Vincent’s eyes narrowed as he examined the bite mark on Caleb’s neck.

The torn edges of the wound spoke volumes.

This was no controlled feeding—it was desperate, frenzied.

Very unlike Marcus. The old vampire must have been at death’s door to lose control like that, especially with a human he seemed attached to.

Pulling back, Vincent allowed Caleb to relax and refasten his shirt. He turned to Tariq, a smirk playing on his lips. “So the old bastard finally got a new toy?”

Tariq’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “No, he doesn’t have the same…peculiar tastes as you.”

From the corner of his eye, Vincent caught Matteo signing, warning him to tread lightly.

Adam’s breathing pattern changed against his leg—the human was waking up.

Vincent’s beast growled, eager to assert dominance, but he reined it in.

He didn’t want Adam to think he was still under Richard’s influence.

“Pfft, we all have the same tastes,” Vincent said, keeping his tone light and dismissive.

Petrov’s gruff voice cut through the tension. “Not as extreme.”

Adam stirred against his leg, and Vincent fought the urge to look down at him. He kept his focus on Caleb, maintaining the delicate balance between menace and control. His beast paced restlessly, hungry for more fear, more power .

“Why are you here?” Adam asked as he rose from Vincent’s lap.

The blazer slipped off, revealing the constellation of bites across Adam’s torso.

Caleb’s eyes widened, fear thickening the air around him.

Vincent felt a twinge of embarrassment, wanting to explain that he wasn’t responsible for Adam’s injuries.

Instead, he wrapped an arm over Adam’s shoulders, pulling him closer, though whether it was for his own comfort or Adam’s, he couldn’t tell.

“Why are you here?” Adam repeated, his voice laced with forced bravado.

Vincent caught the tension in Adam’s tone. Is he jealous? Threatened? Or simply confused by waking up to strangers?

Caleb’s gaze dropped to the floor as he addressed Vincent. “We need your help.”

The beast bristled at the perceived disrespect. Vincent’s hand shot out, gripping Caleb’s chin. “Look at him when he’s speaking to you.”

To Vincent’s surprise, Tariq reacted instantly. His eyes flashed black, a low growl rumbling from his chest. “Hands off.”

Vincent released Caleb’s chin, holding up both hands with an amused smirk. “Calm down, I’m just having fun.” He winked at Caleb. “Does this have anything to do with The Society’s return to form?”

“Yes,” Caleb replied quickly.

As Petrov asked for more details, Vincent seized the moment to lock eyes with Adam. The human’s hostile mask crumbled, revealing confusion and concern. Vincent planted a soft kiss on Adam’s forehead, his fingers subtly signing “trust me. ”

He’s going to be confused by this display, Vincent thought, chiding his beast. But it’s necessary. For now, appearances have to be maintained.

Tariq handed Vincent a folded sheet of paper, his expression uncharacteristically serious. Vincent unfolded it and scrutinized the ID of a Hispanic woman, her features sharp and her stare into the camera dark and unsettling.

Adam leaned in, snatching the paper from Vincent’s grasp. “I’ve seen this woman before. She hangs out outside the local Narcotics Anonymous meetings, but she never went in for one.”

“Why?” Petrov asked.