The old book felt heavier than it looked.

Worn leather. Yellowed pages. Symbols carved into the cover that had taken three different underground contacts and more than one threat to track down.

Exactly the kind of thing Blade would send you after.

You tucked it more securely beneath your arm as you made your way into the warehouse, the heavy door closing behind you with a metallic groan.

Home.

Or as close to one as you’d ever known.

Blade had found you years ago, back when you were still a teenager trying to survive something you barely understood. Half human. Half vampire. A daywalker, like him.

He and Whistler had taken you in. Trained you. Raised you.

Now you hunted beside them.

The familiar scent of oil, metal, gunpowder, and stale smoke greeted you as you crossed the concrete floor. Somewhere deeper inside the warehouse, music thumped through an old set of speakers.

Which meant Scud was exactly where you expected him to be.

He was hunched over his workbench, a joint hanging loosely from the corner of his mouth while sparks flashed beneath his hands. Tools, wires, and half-finished weapons covered nearly every inch of the table.

You’d been gone longer than planned.

Apparently long enough that Scud had checked the clock about fifteen times in the last hour.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

Your boots scraped against the concrete.

His head lifted immediately.

The second he saw you, something in his expression eased.

Then came the smirk.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite daywalker.”

He pulled the joint from his mouth and leaned back in his chair.

You crossed the room toward him.

“Miss me, Scud?”

“Nah.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t notice you were gone.”

“Right.”

His grin widened.

“Okay. Maybe a little.”

You stopped beside his workbench, leaning against the edge as his eyes moved over you.

It was quick.

Subtle.

The kind of glance someone else might have mistaken for casual.

You knew better.

He was checking.

No blood. No obvious injuries. Still in one piece.

“You done?” you asked.*

“With what?”

“Making sure I came back with all my limbs.”

Scud scoffed and turned back toward the mess on his workbench.

“Please. I was checking out the jacket.”

You laughed.

“Sure you were.”

The book landed on the table between you with a heavy thud.

“Got what Blade wanted.”

Scud looked down at the battered cover.

“Damn. That’s the thing?”

“That’s the thing.”

He leaned closer, studying the strange markings before glancing back at you.

“You always deliver.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Never.”

The answer came easily.

Then, for just a second, the teasing faded.

His eyes lingered on yours, and the usual crooked grin softened into something quieter.

“Glad you’re back.”