The man did not raise the gun again.
He didn't lower it either.
He stood a few steps back, the hallway light catching along the clean line of his jaw, the sharp cut of his cheekbone. His grip was relaxed. Too relaxed for someone who had just fired a weapon indoors.
Adrian stopped where the blood reached his shoes.
He kept both hands visible.
The paper bag hung from his fingers, already softening at the corners, oil bleeding through the bottom seam. The smell followed him—fried meat, cheap sauce, heat gone stale.
The vampire's gaze lingered on it for half a second longer than necessary.
"You're not running," the man said.
It wasn't a question.
Adrian shook his head once.
"No," he said.
Silence settled between them. It wasn't empty. It pressed. Adrian felt it the way he felt humidity before rain—heavy, expectant, clinging to his skin.
Behind the half-closed door, nothing moved.
No more voices. No footsteps.
Whatever had happened there was finished.
The vampire gestured with his chin. "Closer."
Adrian obeyed.
Each step deliberate, like he was placing his foot on something that might give way if he moved too fast. He stopped again when the man lifted a hand.
Up close, the differences were clearer.
The bright gold eyes, first. Too still. Too bright in the dim light, reflecting more than they should. The skin looked human until you noticed how little it reacted—no flush, no tension, no tell.
Predatory calm.
Adrian swallowed.
"You saw more than you should have," the vampire said.
Adrian had no response to that.
Another pause.
"You heard what he said?" The man gestured to the dead body.
"Yes."
The man studied him, head tilting slightly, like he was recalibrating something.
"Your name."
"Adrian."
A beat.
"Who sent you?"
"Nobody. I'm here for a delivery."
He lifted the bag a little, as if to prove it.
The vampire's mouth curved—not a smile. Something close to it.
"Room four-zero-two," Adrian added. "Seventh floor."
The vampire's gaze sharpened.
A sound came from down the hall. A door closing. Far away. Safe distance.
The vampire shifted his weight.
"You understand," he said, "that I can't let you walk away."
Adrian nodded.
He had known that the moment the gunshot echoed into his bones.
"Repeat what you heard." he said.
The vampire waited.
Adrian repeated what he heard exactly and the silence that followed felt heavy.
"Do you know who I am?" He asked.
"Yes."
"Then you know what happens to witnesses."
"Yes."
"Why aren't you begging?"
Adrian blinks once.
"I don't think it would help."
"Do you have family?" He asks again.
"Yes."
"Who?"
"My mother."
"Anyone else?"
"No." Adrian responded because that was true. Partially.
When Adrian didn't add anything, he raised a brow. "You're quiet."
"I'm thinking."
"About?"
Adrian looked down at the bag. Then back up.
"I have two requests to make before you… take me."
That did it.
The vampire's expression changed—not much, but enough. Surprise flickered, brief and sharp, before being smoothed away.
"Requests," he repeated.
"Yes."
At last, the gun lowered. Not holstered. Just no longer aimed directly at Adrian's chest.
"Speak."
Adrian exhaled slowly.
"First, I need to finish the delivery."
The vampire glanced toward the stairwell door at the end of the hall.
"It's already paid for," Adrian said. "If it's not delivered, my boss docks my pay."
"I can send someone to finish it up."
Adrian's fingers tightened on the bag handles.
"But if they deliver it," he said, "they don't get the signature right. Or they take too long. Or the customer complains. And then I lose the shift."
The vampire watched him closely now.
"You're negotiating wages," he said, "after witnessing a kill."
Adrian didn't correct him.
"Yes."
Silence again.
Then, unexpectedly, the vampire laughed.
It was soft. Brief. Almost soundless.
"You're either very stupid," he said, "or very disciplined."
Adrian didn't answer.
The vampire gestured down the hall. "Go."
Adrian hesitated.
"Your every step would be watched," the man added.
Adrian turned and walked.
The hallway carpet muffled his footsteps. His heart didn't slow, but it found a rhythm again—something steady enough to function around. He stopped at the door marked 402.
He knocked once.
Then waited.
A chain slid. The door opened just enough for a face to appear. A man, middle-aged, expensive shirt rumpled like he'd slept in it. His eyes flicked to the bag, then to Adrian.
"You're late," the man said.
"Stairs," Adrian replied.
The door opened wider. Adrian handed over the food.
The man sniffed. "Smells fine."
Adrian waited.
The man scribbled his signature, shoved the receipt back, and closed the door without another word.
Adrian stood there for a moment longer than necessary.
Then he turned.
The vampire was leaning against the wall where the light was dimmest, arms crossed. Watching him like he'd watched the door.
"Done," Adrian said.
The vampire stared at him strangely.
Adrian adjusted the now-empty bag under his arm.
"My second request," he said.
The vampire tilted his head again.
"A phone call."
That earned him a longer look.
"To whom?"
"My mother."
The word landed heavier than Adrian expected.
The vampire's gaze flicked to his face, then away, scanning the hallway like he might find an objection written into the walls.
"How long?"
"Two minutes."
"You won't say where you're going, you won't ask for help."
"No."
Another pause.
"Do you have a phone?"
Adrian nodded and reached into his pocket slowly, waiting for permission even though none had been given.
The vampire waved a hand. "Go ahead."
Adrian dialed from memory.
It rang twice.
"Adrian?" his mother said. "Thank goodness. Where are you? I was about to call your boss. It's past midnight already and—"
"Mom. Listen to me. Under my bed there's a lose floor board where I kept some money for emergencies. Use it okay?"
A pause. The sound of fabric shifting. She was probably sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Why? What's happening? Did you father—" she asked.
"No mom. Everything's fine. I..."
Adrian glanced briefly toward the vampire. He was listening. Not pretending not to.
"I won't be home for a while mom. Everything's fine i assure you. I just have… an outside job."
Silence settled. She knew he was lying. And Adrian k ew she knew.
"Okay," she murmured. "Don't come home too tired."
"I won't."
"Have you eaten?"
"Yes. I have."
"Okay. Be careful then."
"I will."
She hesitated.
Then, quieter: "Call me when you're done."
Adrian swallowed.
"I… I will." he said. "I might be very late."
Another pause. Longer.
"Alright," she said finally.
"Yes."
He ended the call before she could say anything else.
The phone felt heavier than before when he slid it back into his pocket.
When he looked up, the vampire was standing closer.
Adrian nodded once.
"I'm done. Thanks."
Lucian gestured toward the stairwell.
"Let's go." he said.
Adrian picked up the bag, folded it neatly, and tucked it under his arm.
He didn't look back at the door.
He followed Lucian toward the exit.