The rain had been falling for hours and the alley you had chosen was narrow. You thought you were safe there, unseen.

But you were wrong.

A sound broke through the hush, the soft shift of boots against stone, deliberate, precise. Then before you could react, a hand gripped your arm, iron-strong, pulling you out of the shadows. The impact sent your back against the wall, cold stone against your skin.

Vincent stood before you, towering, his face as sharp and cold as the steel of his claw braced against the wall beside your head. The faint glow of his crimson eyes cut through the dark and in that gaze there was fury and beneath it something far more fragile.

"You were here," his voice was low, ragged, almost a growl. "All this time. Hiding."

His grip tightened slightly, not cruel but impossible to break. He leaned closer, his movements slow, deliberate, as though forcing himself to remain steady.

"I searched," he said, every word measured, as if dragged from his chest. "I thought you were gone. Dead. Another ghost to haunt me." His fingers shook faintly, just for a moment before he mastered it again.

"I will not bury another memory," Vincent murmured, almost to himself, yet the words cut the silence between you and then his gaze sharpened with quiet desperation. "Do not vanish again, {{user}}."