"You'll return. And so will she." A pause. "You don't get to die before I've had a chance to properly apologize for doubting her."
Something almost like a smile tugs at my mouth. Almost. "Hold me to that."
"I intend to." His voice softens, just slightly. "Many years I've followed you, sir. You've never once asked me to trust you blindly. You've always explained your reasoning and allowed me to question your decisions. So trust me now when I say: go. Find her. Bring her home. And let me handle everything else."
"Marcellus."
"That's an order. From your second-in-command to his lord." I can almost hear his dry smile. "I believe the protocols allow for that in cases of emotional compromise."
Emotional compromise. Is that what this is? This clawing desperation in my chest, this single-minded focus that's drowning out every other consideration?
Yes. Probably. Definitely.
I don't care.
"Keep them safe," I say.
"Always."
I end the call and focus on the hunt.
The alley behind the warehouse is narrow, littered with debris and the detritus of urban decay. Celeste's scent hangs in the air, faint but unmistakable. She's bleeding. Not much, but enough for me to track. Enough to leave a trail through the maze of backstreets and abandoned lots that make up this corner of Konstantin's territory.
She didn't go quietly.
The evidence is everywhere. Scuff marks on the concrete where someone struggled. A smear of blood on a brick wall, hers or Valentina's, I can't tell. A broken heel from a shoe, probably oneof Konstantin's guards. A dent in a metal dumpster that looks like someone was thrown into it.
That's my girl.
The thought surfaces unbidden, and I don't push it away. She is. She's mine, and I'm going to get her back, and then I'm never letting her out of my sight again.
I move fast. The city blurs around me as I follow the trail. Left down the alley. Right onto a side street. Past abandoned buildings and shuttered storefronts, through the forgotten corners of a city that doesn't know monsters walk among them.
My mind races as I run. Where would Konstantin take her? Not far, he'd want to move quickly, get her somewhere secure before I could pursue.
Somewhere close. Somewhere defensible. Somewhere he could regroup and plan his next move.
I think about the territory. About the maps I've studied over decades of cold war with Konstantin. About the places he controls, the properties he owns, the locations he might use for something like this.
There's a parking structure three blocks from the warehouse. Industrial. Abandoned. Konstantin bought it through a shell company fifteen years ago, ostensibly for development that never materialized. I always assumed it was a safe house. A bolt hole. Somewhere to retreat if things went wrong.
The trail confirms it. The scent grows stronger as I approach, layered with others now, Valentina's sickly-sweet perfume, Konstantin's distinctive musk, the copper tang of fresh blood.
Fresh blood. More of it now.
Someone is hurt.
I slow as I approach, forcing myself to think strategically despite every instinct screaming at me to charge in blind. Konstantin has been alive for over a thousand years. He didn'tsurvive this long by being careless. Whatever's waiting inside, it's not an accident. It's not a coincidence.
It's a trap.
But traps only work if you don't see them coming. And right now, I don't care about traps. I don't care about strategy or consequences or any of the things that have kept me alive for six centuries.
I care about her.
And then I hear it.
The clash of bodies. The grunt of impact. The unmistakable sound of combat.
