The air was colder than before, biting against my skin as we left the bar. Sia walked beside me, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her silence was unusual, the kind that filled the space between us with tension. I didn't press her; after everything Lawrence had said, there wasn't much left to say.
I glanced down at my phone: 7:18 PM. Forty-two minutes left. Time was slipping through my fingers like sand. Each passing second felt heavier than the last, pressing on my chest.
Sia broke the silence first. "You're not really thinking about walking in there without a plan, are you?"
I stopped mid-step, turning to face her. "Do I look like I have a plan?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Then we need to make one. Lawrence might be cynical, but he's not wrong. Conrad isn't the kind of person you face without knowing exactly what you're getting into."
I hesitated, the weight of her words sinking in. She wasn't wrong either. "So what? We go back to the bar? Lawrence barely trusts his own shadow, let alone a vampire-friendly lead."
"Lawrence doesn't trust easily," Sia replied, "but he's smart. And right now, we need smart more than we need brave."
Reluctantly, I nodded. The idea of retracing my steps felt counterproductive, but I couldn't ignore the logic in her suggestion. Together, we turned back toward the bar, slipping inside once more.
Lawrence was still at his table, the glass of whiskey untouched since we'd left. He looked up as we approached, his expression guarded.
"Change your mind?" he asked, his tone neutral but faintly amused.
"Let's just say you convinced us," I replied, sliding into the seat across from him. Sia followed, her eyes scanning the room as if expecting trouble.
Lawrence leaned back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Smart move."
"We need a plan," Sia said, cutting straight to the point. "And fast."
Lawrence's smirk faded, replaced by something more calculating. "Alright," he said, leaning forward. "Here's what we're going to do."
"Fang & Flame," Lawrence said, the name rolling off his tongue with a mixture of disdain and familiarity. "It's a club downtown. Vampire-friendly, but not exclusively so. Humans go there, too—thrill-seekers, wannabe blood-dolls, and the occasional idiot who doesn't know better."
I frowned. "And you think Conrad's connections will be there?"
"If he's working out of this city, someone at that club will know something," Lawrence replied. "Vampires like to talk, especially when they think no one's listening."
"And you're sure it's safe?" Sia asked, her skepticism clear.
Lawrence gave her a pointed look. "Nothing about this is safe. But it's the best shot we've got."
The plan was simple enough: I'd go inside, blend in, and listen. Sia and Lawrence would stay outside, keeping watch and making sure I didn't get in over my head. It wasn't exactly comforting, but it was better than walking into Conrad's dinner completely blind.
We left the bar shortly after, the streets quieter than before. The city seemed to hold its breath as we moved toward the club. My unease grew with every step, a nagging sensation I couldn't quite shake. It felt like eyes were on me—unseen, but undeniably there.
When we reached the Fang & Flame, I stopped short, taking in the sight. The neon sign cast a flickering red glow over the street, the cursive script looking almost like dripping blood. A line of people stretched out the door, their chatter blending with the low thrum of bass from inside.
"This place is trouble," Sia muttered.
"Trouble's the point," Lawrence replied. "Stick to the plan, Kyon. In and out. No heroics."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat as I crossed the street and joined the line. The crowd was a mix of humans and vampires, their interactions strangely seamless. It was unsettling, watching them mingle so easily when I knew what kind of tension simmered beneath the surface.
The bouncer gave me a once-over before letting me in, his expression unreadable. Inside, the club was dimly lit, the air thick with the mingled scents of alcohol and something sharper—something metallic that made my stomach churn. The music was loud, the bass pounding through my chest as I navigated the crowd.
The Fang & Flame was alive with a peculiar energy, one that seemed to hum in the air, pressing against my skin. The club's low lighting did little to obscure the predatory glances traded across the room. Humans and vampires mingled freely, though the balance of power was clear. This was their domain. My presence was a trespass.
I tried to look inconspicuous, sticking to the edges of the room. My goal wasn't to engage—just to observe. But it wasn't long before I felt it again: that prickling sensation at the back of my neck. Someone was watching me.
The envelope in my pocket felt heavier with every passing second. The clock was ticking—7:34 PM. Less than thirty minutes until the meeting with Conrad, and here I was chasing shadows.
As I moved deeper into the club, a familiar feeling clawed at the back of my neck. The sense of being watched. It wasn't paranoia; it was distinct, sharp, and deliberate. I scanned the room, and my heart froze.
She was here.
Sitting in the far corner of the club, partially obscured by shadows, was the last person I expected to see again. Her red hair cascaded over her shoulders, her features as sharp and striking as I remembered. Those violet eyes—the ones that had burned into me the night she attacked alongside another vampire Lawrence had killed—met mine across the room.
I felt my hand reflexively tighten into a fist. What was she doing here?