The sky had already begun to darken as Viktor made his way back to Mikel's studio. He had been rushing, eager to return to him, to see the smile that always tugged at the corners of Mikel's lips when Viktor walked through the door. He imagined the way Mikel would tease him for worrying too much, the way he always did. Viktor could almost hear his voice, lighthearted, affectionate: We still have time, Viktor. Stop fussing.
But as he got closer to the studio, a heavy feeling settled in his gut. The air around him grew colder, and the silence was… wrong.
Viktor slowed his steps, his senses sharpening. Where there should have been the soft hum of Mikel's heartbeat, the familiar shuffle of him moving around the studio, there was nothing. Just silence. Viktor's heart sped up, a new kind of urgency pulsing through him. Something was wrong.
The scent hit him first. Thick, metallic, unmistakable. Blood.
No.
