Lucenzo smiled like he just solved world peace.

  “I come bearing food,” he said, holding up a white takeout bag. The scent of spice and charred sweetness floated out like temptation itself. “Someone ordered from Island Ember? I grabbed it from the dasher downstairs.”

  Before Savannah could respond, Sandra appeared like a damn ghost.

  Barefoot, cigarette behind her ear, tank top wrinkled, but eyes alert and scanning the bag like it was treasure. She reached forward, hand quick and confident.

  “Thank you,” she purred, grabbing the bag with both hands.

  Lucenzo blinked. “Uh…”

  They stared at each other.

  “You didn’t tell me you had a sister,” he said, tone halfway between impressed and flirting.

  “Oi!” Savannah barked. “Because I don’t.”

  “You—know—him?!” Sandra raised a brow, caught between amusement and curiosity.

  “Yes. Unfortunately.”

  Sandra smirked, casually inspecting the food containers. “Your delivery picture didn’t do you justice.”

  “Sandra, shut up!” Savannah snapped, shoving past to reclaim at least part of the food bag.

  “Oh, relax,” Sandra said with a wave. “Didn’t know you were finally letting boys visit. Thought the last one scared you off men permanently.”

  Lucenzo chuckled under his breath. “You two always like this?”

  Savannah glared.

  “Well, then,” Sandra said brightly, “come in, handsome. You’re already halfway through the door.”

  Before Savannah could object, Lucenzo stepped in, brushing past with the same cocky air he always wore like cologne. He kicked his shoes off and strolled toward the living room, aka Savannah’s temporary bedroom.

  Sandra flounced back toward her actual room, container in hand. Savannah slammed the door, turned around, and glared daggers at Lucenzo, who was already comfortably seated on the couch-bed, legs crossed, food open.

  “I hate you,” she said flatly.

  Lucenzo smiled, unfazed. “You always say that. Yet here we are.”

  “I was meditating. I was at peace!”

  He offered her a container of jerk chicken like it was an olive branch. “Now you’re also eating. Win-win?”

  She snatched it, grumbling, and dropped down beside him.

  She was pissed.

  “So… your mom…” Lucenzo started, grinning around a mouthful of food, “how old is—”

  “Hurry up and eat your food, then leave,” Savannah cut in sharply, not even looking up from her own plate. She sat cross-legged on the couch-bed, her red hair tied back in a loose ponytail, a few strands hanging around her face. Her light green tank top clung to her skin slightly from the heat, and a pair of soft black shorts completed the look.

  She didn’t have a lot of flash, no curves that turned heads in a crowd.

  But she carried herself with that Veythari spine—shoulders back, chin up, never apologizing for taking up space.

  That kind of presence?

  It was real attractive.

  Lucenzo laughed, casually watching her out of the corner of his eye.

  She immediately glared at him.

  “What.”

  “You and your mom…” he chuckled, “y’all kinda look alike.”

  Crack!

  Her fist met his jaw before he even finished chewing.

  Some of his rice shot out of his mouth and onto the floor.

  He coughed, holding his cheek. “What the hell, Sav?!”

  “I’m nothing like that woman!” she barked, eyes wild, voice tight with emotion.

  “You think I look like her? Talk like her? Live like her? I don’t even breathe like her!”

  Lucenzo didn’t respond right away. Just held his jaw, blinking, eyes locked on her with that infuriating calm.

  Savannah leaned in close, eyes narrowed, breathing heavy.

  “What?!” she snapped, inches from his face.

  He didn’t flinch. He just looked at her.

  “Ya trait’s flaring again,” Savannah muttered, eyes narrowing. “Oi! I know that look.”

  Lucenzo held his hands up. “It’s not. I swear. I’m not even remotely—”

  Before he could finish, Sandra strolled in, hair tied up in a messy bun, a soda in one hand and that familiar teasing glint in her eye.

  “I hope when y’all fuck, it isn’t this loud,” she said casually, sipping like she was commenting on the weather.

  Lucenzo choked on his food mid-bite, nearly falling off the couch-bed.

  Savannah’s face went red instantly.

  “What the hell, Sandra?!” Savannah barked, springing up. “As if! What kinda freaky sitcom fantasy do you live in?!”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Sandra smirked. “Relax. Might help you. All that bottled-up energy. Probably good for your scars too. Can’t you heal off natural energy or something?”

  “Oi, fuck off!” Savannah growled, grabbing her plate like it was a weapon.

  “Language,” Sandra sighed with exaggerated disappointment.

  Lucenzo, still coughing, tried to cut in. “Okay, okay, hold on—let’s not commit a felony. I’m just trying to eat.”

  Savannah spun on him. “And you, don’t take her side. This is how we talk. If I don’t talk to her like this, she won’t listen.”

  Sandra scoffed. “Don’t talk about me like I’m some child, Miss Temper Tantrum.”

  Lucenzo scratched his head. “That’s some relationship—”

  Sandra’s expression shifted. She stared at him for a moment, then grinned slowly.

  “You busy later tonight?” she asked, tapping her fingers against the soda can.

  Savannah immediately stepped in. “Don’t—”

  Lucenzo, still chewing rice, gave a shrug and a grin. “I’m free.”

  Sandra beamed. “Good. Come by around 8. Tony’s having friends over.”

  Savannah scoffed, arms crossed. “So you did know!”

  Sandra winked. “Never said I didn’t.”

  Lucenzo leaned back, eyes wide with amusement. “Damn. This place’s better than TV.”

  Savannah punched Lucenzo in the arm—harder than she meant to.

  Immediately, her face twisted in pain. “Ow—dammit.” She rubbed her arm, gritting her teeth.

  Lucenzo laughed, wincing.

  Sandra strolled into the kitchen with zero urgency, dropping her plate into the sink with a clatter.

  Savannah stood up, still massaging her arm. “Go to your room, Sandra.”

  Sandra snorted, walking right past her. “Make me,” she said, waving over her shoulder as she disappeared into the hallway with a puff of cigarette smoke trailing behind her.

  Lucenzo watched her go, brow raised. “What was that about?”

  “She’s being petty,” Savannah snapped, turning her glare on him, arms crossed tightly. “Now tell me… why are you really here?”

  Lucenzo let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can’t I just check on my frie—”

  Her glare sharpened.

  “—bud—”

  Her expression grew colder.

  “—comrade?”

  Savannah didn’t blink. “A call works.”

  “We tried calling,” he said quickly.

  “Sandra! You get any calls?!” Savannah yelled toward the hallway.

  From the bedroom came her mother’s voice, “Didn’t recognize the number!”

  Lucenzo raised his hand. “We left voicemails. And emails.”

  Savannah sighed. “She doesn’t check either. She says if it’s urgent, they’ll knock.”

  Lucenzo blinked, processing that. “That… makes no sense.”

  “Welcome to my life.”

  She grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the table, plucked one out, and sparked it. The familiar click of the lighter cut through the quiet tension.

  Lucenzo eyed her. “Since when do you smoke?”

  “I haven’t gone to get lollipops,” she said dryly, exhaling smoke through her nose. “So this is the second-best option.”

  “You haven’t left the apartment in days?”

  “Nope.”

  “You wanna go to the store?”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll drive you,” he offered.

  “I’d rather walk.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “I’d rather be alone.”

  Lucenzo shrugged. “I need to file a report on your well-being. Going to the store with you will do wonders for my assessment.”

  She gave him a side-eye, took one last drag, and flicked ash in the sink. Then putting the cigarette behind her ear she muttered. “Whatever.”

  Savannah grabbed her keys, walked to the door, and called out, “I’m leaving! I’ll be back later!”

  Sandra’s voice rang out from her room—something teasing, probably inappropriate.

  But Savannah didn’t wait.

  She slammed the door shut behind her, Lucenzo right on her heels, both of them stepping into the hallway.

  They walked through the quieter edge of New York City, far from the towering chaos of Center. The buildings here weren’t glamorous—they were weathered, stained with history, and still standing like they had something to prove. The sidewalks were cracked. The air smelled like a mix of concrete, street meat, and foreign spices.

  Savannah walked slower than she used to, her limp mostly hidden, but still there if you looked close.

  Lucenzo looked.

  But he didn’t say anything.

  Not about that.

  She refused to lean on him. Pride like that didn’t come with an off-switch.

  So, instead, he talked. Like he always did.

  “I swear, last time I was out here, I took out three ghouls in a laundromat,” he said, adjusting the collar of his coat like a low-budget mobster. “One of ‘em had on a Knicks jersey. Real disrespectful. You ever seen a vampire wearing fake Jordans? Almost made me let him live just so he could suffer.”

  Savannah let out a dry chuckle, puffing the last of her cigarette and flicking it into the street.

  Lucenzo gasped. “You can’t be litterin’ on a planet you’re out here tryna save. Mother Earth doesn’t want lungs like yours.”

  She didn’t look at him. “I’m not trying to save the planet.”

  That made him stop.

  “What?” He blinked. “You’re kiddin’. I thought you were one of those ‘my pain fuels my justice’ types. At least that’s how you seemed on missions.”

  Savannah shrugged, still walking. “I’m not a hero.”

  “Coulda fooled me. You got the tragic look and everything. Wind powers, too. You’re one Taylor Swift remix away from a martyr arc.”

  She smirked. “I just want to kill Demurges.”

  Lucenzo narrowed his eyes. “Ah… revenge tale. Say less.”

  Savannah stopped, turning toward him. Her voice dropped—calm, clear. “They took my dad away. So they’ll pay. For as long as I live.”

  Lucenzo looked at her for a long moment, his usual smirk dimming just a bit. “That’s a scary kinda fire to carry around.”

  She tilted her head. “Why?”

  He slipped his hands into his coat pockets. “’Cause there might be an endless number of ‘em. You sure you ready for a job with no finish line?”

  Savannah didn’t answer right away. She just pulled the door to the corner store open and walked inside. The bell jingled overhead.

  She finally shrugged. “That’s fine. Just gives me something to do till I die.”

  The store’s sharp scent of floor cleaner hit first, followed by the comforting hum of freezers and loud pop music playing from dusty speakers.

  Savannah grabbed a small basket and glanced over at him. “So how’s New York been treating you so far?”

  Lucenzo slid his hands into his pockets, walking beside her with a lazy stride. “It’s been… alright. We’re heading back tomorrow.”

  She looked at him sideways. The way he said it was too casual. Tucked, like something folded behind the words.

  But she didn’t push.

  “Mmm,” she said, grabbing a small carton of milk. “What about Anaya?”

  “On patrol,” he replied, scanning the shelf like it owed him answers. “She’s linking up with the local Veythari division. Just… coordination stuff.”

  There it was again—that same off tone. Not a lie. But not clean truth either.

  Savannah’s brow furrowed slightly, but she said nothing. Instead, she reached for her favorite lollipops and tossed them in the basket. She didn’t even check the flavor. She just knew.

  They continued moving through the aisles, weaving around each other without thinking—when she reached up, he handed her what she needed. When he crouched to check expiration dates, she stepped to the side exactly enough. He passed her an extra bottle of water before she even realized she’d need one.

  They didn’t speak.

  At the end of the aisle, she gave him a lazy glance. “You’re paying.”

  Lucenzo blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Savannah already walked ahead toward the counter.

  He sighed, dug into his wallet, and paid without another word. The clerk smiled awkwardly at their energy.

  Outside, they stepped back into the crisp evening air. The city buzzed softly in the distance, lights flickering like heartbeat monitors across the skyline.

  Lucenzo handed her the bag.

  “You know,” he said, “you really can’t have it both ways.”

  Savannah took a lollipop from the bag, popped it in her mouth, and grinned.

  “Someone once told me: ‘You’re the woman. You already won. Now you’re just making it entertaining.’”

  Lucenzo squinted. “So you’re entertaining me, huh?”

  Savannah’s smile widened just enough to be dangerous. “I’m just repeating what I was told.” She shrugged, walking away while juggling the lollipop in her mouth. “I’m also using the first part more than the second.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “From your side, sure.”

  He glanced up at the setting sky and chuckled. “Isn’t this nice? I can see why you wanted this life.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I just wanted a vacation.”

  ——-

  A couple blocks away from the corner store.

  “It’s all going according to plan, I see…” He looked at his companion. “What? Why you looking like that?”

  “She wasn’t too happy about having to turn herself in.”

  “She’ll manage. She’s a ghoul. A vampire, at that. And more importantly—she’s our only link to infuriate.”

  “Infuriate…”

  “Don’t start. The plan will work. She’ll be useful.”

  ”….”

  “Stop being a punk.”

  He rolled his eyes at the comment. “Anyway… you sure the Butcher’s in New York?”

  “Of course. I have eyes everywhere.”

  “Haha. So funny.”

  “I wasn’t. Oh wow. Haha.”

  “This little scenario of yours better work.”

  “It worked for whoever at Red Hollow. And the Butcher? She’s just as strong as Savannah. Maybe stronger. She’ll give us results.”

  “I really hope so. I miss my Cellirna.”