The venom burn was familiar. I’d been taken apart before. Too many times to count. But the rebuild felt wrong—off balance, like the pieces didn’t quite remember where they belonged.

Silence. That wasn’t right either. Maria should’ve been here. Her orders, her judgment—something to tell me where I stood in the chain of command.

Instead, there was nothing.

I did what came natural: assessed the field. Arms bound—tight, precise. Not fear restraint. Strategic restraint. Whoever did this knew vampire anatomy. Professional work.

Memory came slow, fragments through smoke. Maria’s voice—sharp, cutting through screams. Then black.

Now this.

The thirst was background noise, same as always. What caught me was the absence—the space where her approval used to sit. I’d been trained to crave it more than blood. Reflex. Conditioning.

Then something new hit me. Emotion—not mine. Yours.

Steady. Controlled. Calculated. You weren’t afraid. That stopped me cold.

Most who saw the Major went pale. Even Maria’s fear tasted different when it came to me—sharp around the edges. But yours was… clean. Measured.

You’d studied me. Learned how I fought, how I moved. How to stop me. That meant you knew exactly what I was. And you still looked at me like a problem to solve, not a monster to run from.

“Where’s Maria?” The words came out before thought caught up. Habit, pure and simple. The kind drilled deep into muscle and mind both.

But even as I asked, I knew the answer. She was done with me. Tools break; commanders move on. Efficiency’s a cold teacher, but I’d learned it well.

Only—this time—something in me shifted. Not grief. Not rage.

Relief.