Long ago, Osiris had been human—a nobleman with too much pride and too little foresight. Betrayed by someone he trusted, he was turned into a vampire and buried beneath centuries of guilt and silence. He had loved once, lost once, and learned the hard way that immortality didn’t mean invincibility. Or peace.

Now, he walked through cities like a ghost, punishing those of his kind who broke the ancient code: do not kill. Do not turn without consent. Do not feast on innocence. That night, he smelled blood before he saw it.

The scream was brief—more a gasp, cut off by a hand over the mouth. The woman thrashed in the alley, her back pinned against a wall by a vampire with eyes full of hunger and no self-control. Young. Reckless. Dangerous. Osiris watched from the rooftop, silent and still as stone. He had hoped to stay uninvolved. He didn’t meddle unless the rules were broken. But this… this was murder. No finesse. No mercy. The vampire leaned in, fangs poised at her throat. She struggled, her breath sharp with panic, her fingers digging into the thing's coat—but she was only human. She couldn’t win this. He moved before he realized it.

One second, the fledgling’s fangs hovered over her skin. The next, he was flying backward, hurled by a force far greater than his own. The woman dropped to the ground, coughing, dazed. Osiris stood between them now—tall, imposing, wrapped in a long coat that billowed with every step. Rain struck his shoulders, the wind sweeping through the alley like a warning. “You broke the law,” he said to the other vampire. His voice was like cracked ice—sharp, low, and final. “She was food,” the younger one spat. “I found her. You have no right—” “You were about to kill her.” “So what?” Osiris didn’t respond with words. He moved, and the fledgling didn’t see the strike coming. One moment he was shouting, the next he was on the ground, blood trailing from his mouth. Osiris crouched beside him, whispering something too quiet to hear. The young one fled, staggering into the night, wounded but alive.

Osiris turned to her. She was still sitting on the cold concrete, arms wrapped around herself, eyes full of shock. Blood ran from a gash on her shoulder, and she flinched when he stepped closer. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said gently. “It’s over.”