“We can’t be here.”

“You said that last time.” Atash’s voice was low as we moved across the empty street. The husks of abandoned cars lined the road, their rusted frames sagging under the weight of time. We moved in silence, keeping to the shadows, ghosts in a city that had long since given up the fight.

Vines crawled up buildings, their roots splitting the pavement. Nature had won, reclaiming what civilization abandoned—a slow reversal of the damage we once inflicted. A decade ago, the air was thick with pollution. Now, it was clean. Solar panels kept some of the old streetlights alive, their weak glow flickering against the ruins. 

“This is vampire territory,” I muttered. “We don’t have patrol clearance. If we get caught—”

“Do you follow every rule in the book?” Atash sighed, barely sparing me a glance.

“Not always.” I followed him around the corner into a narrow alley. “But protocols exist for a reason.”

“Protocols exist for a reason,” he mocked under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Then I heard them—voices up ahead. My hand shot out, gripping Atash’s shoulder. Two figures, hooded, standing near an entrance.

“Atash.” My voice was sharp.

We weren’t in uniform. We were just like any other human civilians—except human civilians weren’t allowed here after dark. Getting caught meant one of two things: either we ended up as a midnight snack, or we get reprimanded by Bulwark and the territory’s leaders.

Humans weren’t supposed to cross into vampire territory after curfew. Some vamps played by the rules, kept to their rations or animal blood, but hunger always won eventually. People went missing. Those who weren’t drained on the spot were kept alive—human blood bags, emptied sip by sip.

“Stop being such a—just shut up and keep your head down,” Atash hissed. He yanked up my hood, pulling it low over my face before stepping forward.

I hesitated, then followed.

“Ash. Long time, no see.” One of the men greeted him, tall and lanky, his voice slick with familiarity.

“I see you brought a friend this time.” The second was not a man, but a Bloodfed, and he took a long look at me.

“Yeah,” Atash said easily. “He’s excited to see the action. What’s the lineup looking like tonight?”

“A few rookies trying to make a name for themselves. Should be entertaining.”

Atash clapped one of them on the shoulder before pushing open the metal door that stood between them. Inside a stairwell stretched upward, the hum of bass-heavy music bleeding through the walls. It grew louder as we ascended, each step pulling us deeper into whatever the hell this was.

At the top, Atash grinned. “Ready for some fun?”

Before I could answer, he shoved open the double doors.

Chaos.

Music slammed into my ears. Voices clashed—laughter, cheers, curses. Neon lights buzzed, illuminating just enough to see without tripping over yourself. Humans and vampires mixed at tables, at the bar, leaning over the railing that stretched around the center of the room.

I followed their gaze. An open-top fighting cage, dead center.

I stepped closer to the railing, my stomach twisting. Inside the cage, a vampire and a human were locked in a one-on-one brawl.

What the fuck is this?

“How badly do you want to report this?” Atash murmured near my ear, his voice edged with teasing. He stepped past me, resting his forearms on the railing, eyes locked on the fight below.

“This is dangerous.”

Too many violations to count. One human injury—that’s all it would take. The scent of fresh blood would flip a switch, dragging these vamps from civilized to feral in seconds.

Below, the vampire landed a clean punch, splitting the human’s lip. Blood trickled down his chin.

No one moved. No sharp inhales. No shift in tension. Nothing.

I scanned the crowd. “Why isn’t anyone reacting?”

Atash didn’t look away from the fight. “As I said before, Ferals lose themselves the second they catch a whiff of blood. No self-preservation, no thought—just hunger. That’s what makes them dangerous.” He gestured lazily at the onlookers. “But the average vamp? They have control—until they don’t. As long as they’re fed, they can be patient, even strategic. Now that’s not to say that some aren’t psychos and will just attack when they see an opportunity,” His fingers brushed his injury, an absent motion. “That’s what makes them dangerous, but in a different way. They’re like us, just stronger and faster. Plus that regeneration comes in handy.”

“So this is my training?” I asked. “Watching the kind of opponents I might face in the Under Cities?”

“No.” Atash finally turned to me, lips twitching. “I’m signing you up for the next match.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m joking.” He chuckled, but there was something unreadable in his expression. “They’re not allowed to use claws or fangs. Wouldn’t be much different from sparring with me.”

“Then why am I here?”

Atash exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re our biologist. Your job isn’t just to kill vamps—it’s to understand them. How much studying have you actually done outside of sweeping?”

I didn’t answer. Because he was right.

I’d studied Ferals—how their bodies reacted to Scarlet Wood, how bloodlust stripped them of reason. But Bloodfeds—regular vamps? The ones who thought before they struck? I have never set foot in vampire territory. I had no friends or family who took the Genesis serum either. This was all new. I had nothing except textbooks and secondhand reports from Bulwark Academy.

And in Squad 95, that wasn’t enough. I wasn’t cut out for this.

The roar of the crowd swallowed the room as the human hit the ground. A countdown—three, two, one. The match was over. The vampire raised his hand in victory, then pulled the human to his feet. Together, they lifted their joined hands toward the onlookers above, basking in the cheers.

“Ready to interview a vampire?” Atash’s voice cut through the noise as he leaned in closer.

I met his gaze. “You’re not serious.”

“Come on. If we go now, you can watch his wounds heal. That should be enough to intrigue the nerd in you.” He smirked and stepped toward a staircase. Two guards flanking it shifted aside without question.

He glanced back at me. “He’s with me.”

I followed, descending into a space beneath the arena. The caged fighting pit dominated the center, surrounded by chairs facing inward. Doors lined the perimeter, leading deeper into the unknown.

“Only investors and fighters are allowed down here,” Atash said, reading the curiosity in my expression.

“What even is this place?”

“One of the many hidden spots where humans and vampires coexist. Though this one’s on the seedier side.” He chuckled.

I never really thought about coexisting past the borders. The Upper Cities were strictly divided—human and vampire territories with leaders who tolerated each other at best. The truce was fragile, the tension constant.

“Ash.” A rough voice pulled my attention.

“Dimitri.” Atash approached the vampire fighter like they were old friends. “Good fight. You played too much with that rookie, though. Should’ve ended it and saved him the humiliation.”

“You know how it is,” Dimitri said with a grin, fangs flashing. “Predators love to play with their food.”

Atash gestured toward me. “This is Kieran. An associate of mine.”

Dimitri extended his hand. I hesitated. He tilted his head, gray eyes glinting under the neon lights. “I don’t bite.”

I let out a short, awkward laugh and shook his hand. His grip was firm, his skin warmer than I expected. Unlike the myths, vampires weren’t cold to the touch. They also weren’t pasty white with red eyes. Their complexions and irises had a muted gray undertone, like a photograph left in the sun too long. And yet, there was something unnervingly flawless about them. Maybe it was the slightly pointed ears—reminiscent of elves in fantasy films—or the way Compound Genesis worked like the world’s most skilled plastic surgeon, smoothing imperfections just enough to make them… unnatural.

The bruising on his cheek faded as I watched, the split on his lip closing as if time had sped up just for those wounds. It reminded me of a documentary on the human body’s healing process, played at ten times the speed to save time.

“Can you feel it?” I asked.

“Feel what?”

I tapped my own cheek and lip. “The healing.”

“Not for something this minor. If I lost a limb or had a deep wound, then yeah.”

“And how does that feel?”

“Like burning. Like my body’s being pulled back together, every piece stitched in place.”

“Does it leave you hungry?”

Dimitri chuckled, glancing at Atash. “This one asks a lot of questions. I feel like I’m under a microscope.”

“He is a nerd,” Atash said, arms crossed casually over his chest.

“I don’t mean to offend,” I added. “I just haven’t met a vampire that wasn’t trying to sink their fangs into me.”

“A sweeper, then?”

“Was,” I confirmed.

Dimitri tilted his head, a smirk forming. “You’ve got more questions, don’t you?”

“Yeah…”

“Two more. Choose wisely.”

Narrowing them down to two was frustrating. There was so much I wanted to ask, so much I needed to know. But I forced myself to prioritize.

“How do you not lose control in the ring, being that close to human blood?”

Dimitri hummed, amused. “Such a human question, but a good one.” He turned to another vampire. “Xander, get me the vapor.”

Xander handed him a small vial filled with a grayish solid.

“You ever use a nasal stick?” Dimitri asked.

“For congestion?”

“Same concept.” He held up the vial, thumb resting beneath it, fingers on the black cap. “These are Feral pheromones. You probably can’t smell them, but they have a certain stench—feral, no pun intended. A lot of us inhale these when we know we’ll be around humans or blood. Helps dull the pull of your sweet mortal nectar.” The last sentence borderline teasing.

“I didn’t know things like that existed for you guys.”

“You think only Bulwark makes advancements for safety?” His tone was edged with amusement. “Vampires want to coexist too. We’re trying to keep our own safe from those bullets of yours.”

I held his gaze, letting that sink in. For all the myths and legends surrounding vampires, the old and the new, the reality was more complicated than I’d been taught.

“Next question,” he prompted.

“What makes you and the others here different from the Bloodfeds in the Under Cities?”

“Nothing,” he said easily. “Except they have access to the tap—Life Donors. We don’t. They don’t have to worry about their next meal, so they can be reckless. Healing, staying… civil, takes a toll. They don’t have to think about that. They can sink their fangs into a neck whenever they want.”

“I thought Life Donors never had direct contact with fangs? Their blood is supposed to be drawn in a medical facility and shipped out.”

Dimitri smirked. “That sounded like a question. And unfortunately, you’re out of them.”

“Field trip’s over,” Atash said.

Dimitri gave me a parting nod. “Pleasure meeting you, Kieran. Until next time, Ash.” 

I followed Atash up the stairs, the thrum of music growing louder with each step. Still, I kept my voice low. “Are the Bloodfeds feeding directly from the Life Donors?”

Atash didn’t look back. “If you haven’t figured it out by now—nothing is ever what it seems.”