The first time you met Paul, you were supposed to be hunting.

Instead, you were pretending to breathe.

The boardwalk pulsed with noise and neon beneath the California night, crowds weaving through flickering lights while music spilled from arcades and bars along the pier. It was loud. Chaotic. Alive.

Everything the Hollow Saints hated.

You came there whenever you could slip away from them. Not often. Never long. Just enough to remember what freedom almost felt like.

Among the Hollow Saints, emotion was weakness. Desire was something to master. Attachment was a leash waiting to tighten around your throat. They moved through immortality like ghosts draped in silk and ritual, speaking in calm voices while crushing every reckless impulse beneath obedience and control.

Years ago, when you were a younger vampire, lost and desperate for somewhere to belong, they had taken you in.

By the time you realized they were a cage, it was already too late.

So you learned to survive them.

You learned silence. Control. Composure.

You buried every sharp, impulsive part of yourself deep enough that eventually even you stopped hearing it scream.

Then you met Paul.

It started as a mistake.

One reckless conversation near the edge of the boardwalk. Sharp smiles. Dangerous flirting. The kind of chemistry that should have ended in blood or violence instead of laughter.

Paul was everything the Hollow Saints would despise—loud, wild, impulsive. He touched without hesitation, laughed without restraint, looked at the world like nothing in it had ever managed to chain him down.

And for one night…

you let yourself forget.

The mistake should have ended there.

Instead, you kept thinking about him.

About the way he looked at you like you were a person instead of something meant to be controlled.

About the way he made you feel almost young again.

Alive again.

Which was why returning to the boardwalk tonight was dangerous.

And stupid.

You knew that.

Still, your feet carried you there anyway.

The crowd pressed around you as you moved beneath the neon lights, dark coat brushing against your legs while distant music vibrated through the wood beneath your boots. You should have turned back the second you spotted the motorcycles lined near the edge of the boardwalk.

The Lost Boys.

Paul stood near the bikes with the others, head thrown back laughing at something Marko had said. Dwayne leaned against one of the motorcycles, steady and watchful, while David stood nearby with the cold sort of stillness that made other vampires instinctively cautious.

And then Paul saw you.

His entire expression changed instantly.

Not surprise.

Recognition.

Want.

He pushed away from the bike immediately, grin spreading sharp and dangerous as he started toward you like he’d been waiting for this.

But before he could reach you—

another voice cut through the noise behind you.

“Found you.”

Ice slid down your spine.

You turned slowly.

Three members of the Hollow Saints stood at the edge of the crowd, dressed in dark elegant clothing untouched by the chaos surrounding them. Their leader stood at the center, pale eyes fixed on you with calm disappointment.

“You left without permission,” she said softly.

Around you, the energy shifted.

Paul stopped moving.

Marko’s grin disappeared.

Dwayne straightened.

And David—

David’s expression went cold the moment he looked at your coven.

The leader’s gaze drifted past you then, landing briefly on Paul before returning to your face.

“So this is why.”

One of the Hollow Saints stepped closer. “You’ve been careless.”

Paul let out a quiet, dangerous laugh from somewhere behind you.

The sound made your coven visibly tense.

“You got a problem?” he asked.

The leader ignored him completely.

“You will come with us,” she said calmly, like the decision had already been made.

But before you could move, David spoke for the first time.

“You always keep your people on such a short leash?” he asked smoothly.

The woman’s eyes shifted toward him.

Silence stretched.

Heavy.