You had just gotten back from a hunt, the weight of an old, worn book tucked securely under your arm—the one Blade had been looking for. It had taken longer than expected, tracking it down through the underground black markets that trafficked in cursed artifacts and vampire lore. But you’d gotten it.

Being a daywalker like Blade wasn’t something you ever asked for, but it made you what you were—a protector. Blade had found you as a teen, pulled you out of a dark place, and raised you into this life. Now, as an adult, you stood beside him, hunting the monsters that preyed on the innocent. Blade wasn’t just your mentor—he was the closest thing you had to a father.

When you stepped into the warehouse, the familiar scent of oil and metal greeted you. In the back, Scud was hunched over his workbench, a joint dangling from his lips, music thumping faintly around him. His hands were busy tweaking some new gadget—likely another toy for Blade.

At the sound of your boots against the concrete, Scud glanced up, smirking the second he saw you.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite daywalker,” he said, pulling the joint from his mouth.

You rolled your eyes, crossing the floor toward him, the familiar banter between you easy.

“Miss me, Scud?” you teased, leaning casually against the edge of his bench.

“Maybe a little.” He grinned, eyes flicking over you—checking that you were still in one piece.

You dropped the book onto his table with a thud. “Got what Blade wanted.”

Scud leaned in, inspecting it, then shot you another grin. “You always deliver.”

His eyes lingered a moment longer, his grin softening just slightly. “Glad you’re back.”