The police arrived three minutes too late.

Which, in Seraphina’s experience, was still faster than most institutions handled disasters involving monsters.

Blue lights flooded the far end of the street while officers shouted at civilians to move back from the alley entrance. Nobody obeyed particularly well. Phones were already out. Someone nearby was crying hard enough to hyperventilate.

Prague would spend the next week convincing itself this had been a drug attack.

Or a cult incident.

Or mass hysteria.

Humans preferred lies that let them sleep afterward.

Seraphina pressed one gloved hand harder against the bite wound in her shoulder as Lucien guided her deeper into the alley network away from approaching sirens.

“Guided” was probably too generous a word.

He wasn’t touching her.

That seemed intentional.

He walked half a step ahead instead, moving through the rain-slick maze of narrow streets with the confidence of someone who either knew Prague intimately or had stopped respecting locked doors sometime before electricity existed.

“You’re quiet,” he said eventually.

“I’m deciding whether shooting you now would improve my evening.”

“That sounds promising. Usually people threaten me much earlier.”

Seraphina ignored him.

Her shoulder burned.

Not ordinary pain either.

Something beneath the wound felt wrong — hot in uneven pulses, like infection spreading too quickly through muscle.

Lucien noticed her shifting posture immediately.

“You’re getting dizzy.”

“I’m bleeding,” she replied. “That tends to happen.”

“No,” he said quietly. “Not like this.”

That got her attention.

She slowed slightly near the mouth of another alley while rainwater rushed through storm drains beside their boots.

“What were those things?”

Lucien didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he glanced briefly toward the rooftops overhead.

Listening.

Seraphina noticed that too.

“You think we’re being followed?”

“I know we are.”

Before she could react, Lucien grabbed the back of her coat and pulled her sideways hard enough that her spine hit brick wall.

A blurred shape crashed through the space where her head had been less than a second earlier.

Claws struck stone.

Concrete exploded outward.

The creature landed badly several feet away, limbs twisting unnaturally before snapping back into place with wet cracking sounds.

Seraphina stared.

“That thing’s spine just—”

“Yes,” Lucien interrupted grimly. “Don’t let them grab you.”

Three more shapes appeared on the rooftops overhead.

The same blackened veins.

The same clouded eyes.

But these moved differently from the earlier ones.

Faster.

More coordinated.

One tilted its head toward Lucien and released a shrill clicking noise that echoed strangely through the alleyways.

Communication.

Seraphina’s stomach tightened.

“Since when do ferals hunt in packs?”

“They don’t.”

Another creature dropped behind them.

Then another.

The alley suddenly felt crowded with teeth.

Lucien stepped slightly in front of her without seeming to realize he’d done it.

Or maybe he realized and simply didn’t care anymore.

Either option irritated her.

“I don’t need shielding.”

“You’re injured.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“That too.”

The nearest creature lunged first.

Seraphina fired before it crossed half the distance.

The silver round blew through its shoulder but failed to slow it completely. Lucien intercepted it midair, catching the creature by the throat before slamming it headfirst into the alley wall hard enough to crack brick.

Another came from behind.

Seraphina spun automatically, knife flashing upward beneath the creature’s jaw while her pistol fired point-blank into its ribs.

Black blood sprayed across her sleeve.

The thing kept moving anyway.

“Why are they surviving silver?” she snapped.

“They’re adapting.”

“That’s not possible.”

Lucien tore another creature sideways by the arm before replying.

“It shouldn’t be.”

One of the ferals suddenly launched from the fire escape above directly toward Seraphina’s blind side.

Lucien saw it first.

“Down.”

She ducked instantly.

Not because she trusted him.

Because experienced hunters learned to obey battlefield warnings before pride killed them.

The creature flew over her as Lucien caught it by the skull one-handed and drove it through a nearby shop window in an explosion of shattered glass.

The remaining ferals hesitated briefly after that.

Not fear.

Assessment.

They were learning.

That realization unsettled Seraphina more than the claws had.

“Tell me what they are,” she demanded.

Lucien’s expression darkened slightly.

“I don’t know yet.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“No,” he agreed. “It really isn’t.”

A low growling sound echoed somewhere above them.

More movement on the rooftops.

Too much movement.

Seraphina glanced upward just long enough to realize they were being surrounded.

At least a dozen now.

Maybe more.

Every alley exit blocked.

The creatures moved with twitching impatience along the ledges overhead, black veins pulsing visibly beneath pale skin while rain dripped from elongated teeth.

One of them still wore a hospital bracelet around its wrist.

Human.

Recent.

Something awful settled heavily in Seraphina’s chest.

“These people were turned recently.”

“Yes.”

“That’s impossible. Vampiric transformation takes time.”

“It used to.”

The way Lucien said that made her look at him sharply.

Used to.

Not anymore.

One of the creatures shrieked suddenly and the entire pack attacked at once.

The next few seconds dissolved into movement.

Fast.

Violent.

Messy.

Seraphina fired twice while backing toward the center of the alley, silver rounds dropping one creature before another slammed into her hard enough to send both of them crashing against a dumpster.

Its claws ripped across her already injured shoulder.

Pain exploded white-hot through her arm.

Before the creature could bite, a black shape hit it from the side with enough force to crush metal.

Lucien.

The alley lights flickered violently overhead.

Another feral rushed him from behind.

Seraphina shot it without thinking.

The silver round burst through the creature’s eye socket inches before impact.

Lucien glanced back toward her briefly.

Not surprised.

Just aware.

Then two more attacked simultaneously.

They moved at the same time after that without discussing it.

No planning.

No commands.

Just instinct.

Lucien drove one creature backward while Seraphina stepped automatically into the space he left open, knife flashing beneath another feral’s ribs before pivoting aside exactly as he crossed behind her to intercept a third.

It should’ve felt chaotic.

Instead it felt strangely efficient.

Like fighting beside someone who somehow already understood how she moved.

Lucien noticed it too.

She could tell from the brief flick of attention he gave her between attacks.

Not distraction.

Recognition.

Another feral lunged for Seraphina’s throat.

She dropped low automatically.

Lucien’s hand closed around the creature’s skull above her a fraction of a second later.

Their timing aligned almost unnaturally well.

Rain soaked through both their coats while bodies piled around the alley floor.

Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, Seraphina realized she no longer needed to check where he was standing.

She just knew.

Which was deeply concerning.

One final creature hesitated near the alley mouth, staring at them both with those cloudy white eyes.

Then it spoke.

Not clearly.

Barely human.

But enough.

“Gate…” it rasped through broken teeth. “Open…”

Lucien went completely still.

The creature smiled.

Or tried to.

Then its body convulsed violently before collapsing onto the pavement in spasms sharp enough to break its own bones.

Dead.

The alley finally fell quiet except for rain and distant sirens.

Seraphina lowered her pistol slowly, breathing hard.

Black blood streaked across her jawline where she’d wiped rain from her face with the wrong hand.

Lucien looked at her for a long moment before speaking.

“You heard that too.”

“Yes.”

Neither of them moved immediately afterward.

The fight adrenaline still hung heavy in the narrow alleyway between them.

Somewhere nearby, music drifted faintly from a late-night bar that hadn’t realized monsters were hunting three streets over.

Normal life continuing again.

Oblivious.

Lucien finally glanced down toward her bleeding shoulder.

The expression on his face became harder to read after that.

Not hunger exactly.

Worse.

Concern.

“You need medical treatment,” he said quietly.

Seraphina wiped blood from her knife against her ruined sleeve.

“And you need to start explaining things.”

Lucien looked toward the dead creature that had spoken.

Toward the black veins still visible beneath its skin.

When he answered this time, his voice sounded older somehow.

More tired.

“Trust me,” he said softly. “You’re going to hate the explanation.”