The response came almost immediately: «Acknowledged. Shifting patrol patterns to increase visibility from child's window»
Tobi frowned, realizing Yousuf's window remained open, letting in the bitter winter air. Tobi couldn't close and lock it from out here, he'd need to go inside. He circled around to the front door. The keypad beeped softly as he punched in the numbers, and the door clicked open. Tobi moved through the darkened house with practiced silence, his footsteps making no sound on the hardwood floors. Centuries of hunting had taught him how to move like a ghost.
As he approached Yousuf's room, Tobi slowed. A shape on the floor outside the boy's door caught his attention. Layla laycurled on a makeshift pallet of blankets, her breathing deep and even in sleep. Her dark red hair spilled across the thin pillow, and one arm stretched toward her son's door, as if reaching for him even in slumber.
Tobi paused, understanding dawning on him. She slept here every night, keeping watch over her son. The faint shadows he'd noticed beneath her eyes weren't just from her traumatic past - they came from night after night on this hard floor, her body never truly resting.
He knelt beside her, studying her face in repose. Without the constant wariness she carried during waking hours, she looked younger, the lines of worry temporarily erased. But the floor beneath her thin blankets offered little cushioning against the hardwood. No wonder she moved stiffly.
Careful not to wake her, Tobi stepped over Layla and slipped into Yousuf's room. The boy remained deeply asleep, his chest rising and falling in the peaceful rhythm of childhood dreams. Tobi gently closed the window, making sure the latch clicked securely into place.
Before leaving, he tucked the blanket more snugly around Yousuf's shoulders. The boy murmured something in his sleep but didn't wake.
Back in the hallway, Tobi looked down at Layla again. This wouldn't do. She needed proper rest if she was to heal from her past. He pulled out his phone and added another message to his earlier texts:
«Need to get proper daybed for hallway outside Yousuf's room. Layla sleeping on floor every night. Also recommend baby monitor system so she can sleep in her own room but still hear him.»
The reply came swiftly: «Will arrange delivery tomorrow. Good catch.»
Tobi knelt beside Layla's sleeping form, hesitating before touching her shoulder. "Layla," he whispered, keeping his voice low and gentle. "Wake up."
Her eyes snapped open, body tensing as she jerked upright. A small sound of fear escaped her throat before recognition dawned in her wide eyes.
"It's just me," he soothed, giving her space. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable to talk."
Layla glanced at Yousuf's door, reluctance clear in her posture.
"He's sleeping peacefully," Tobi assured her. "I just checked on him."
After another moment's hesitation, she nodded and rose stiffly from her makeshift bed. Tobi led her to the den, where moonlight spilled through large windows onto comfortable furniture.
Layla sank into an overstuffed armchair, pulling her knees to her chest. Her fingers twisted in the hem of her sleep shirt. Tobi studied her exhausted face, noting the dark circles under her eyes.
“How long have you been sleeping in the hallway?” he asked softly.
"Since we came here." She stared down at her hands. "I know it's foolish, but..." Her voice cracked. "I can't forget that night. Waking up to find his bed empty."
Tears slid down her cheeks. "They took him in the night, like they did with all the children deemed unworthy. The elders would decide which ones to... to cull." She wrapped her arms tighter around herself. "I awoke, and he was gone. I… I searched the house, screaming his name. But they'd already carried him out to the desert to be exposed - left to die under the sun."
She lifted her tear-filled gaze to meet his.
"Yousuf is not my first son." Her voice cracked, fresh pain etching lines around her eyes. "They took them all from me. One at a time. All of them." She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, as if trying to hold the pieces together, squeezing her eyes shut. "Yousuf… he is all I have left."
The words hit Tobi like physical blows. Seven centuries of existence had exposed him to countless horrors, but this... His throat tightened with rage.
"How many?" The question scraped past his clenched teeth.
"Yousuf is my sixth son. Five were taken to be… exposed."
"Five?" Tobi surged to his feet, unable to contain the explosion of fury that ripped through him. His fangs extended involuntarily as seven hundred years of carefully maintained control shattered. He paced across the room, and the lamp beside him flickered as his power rolled through the room in waves of cold rage.
The sheer magnitude of her loss - six children torn from their mother's arms, murdered for being "unworthy" - rage and anguish twisted in his chest. Small wonder she kept vigil. After losing five children, how could she risk closing her eyes? No wonder anxiety never left her eyes.
Tobi froze mid-stride, his mind racing through calculations. Something wasn't adding up. She looked young, but he'd assumed the trauma had aged her prematurely. Now, studying her more carefully...
"Layla." He forced his voice to remain gentle despite his growing dread. "How old are you?"
She blinked up at him, confusion crossing her tear-stained face. "Twenty-five."
