Aiken's Porsche roared down the highway like a silver bullet in the dark. The night air slipped through the open window, cool against his skin. His thoughts were miles ahead—already in Chicago.
"Alan... we need your help. The vampire situation in Chicago has gone out of control... we need everyone as soon as possible."
It had ended simply.
—Milo
The name lingered in Aiken's mind. Milo. He had absolutely no idea of who that was.
He had left immediately after reading the letter. His house remained a wreck—papers, photos scattered across the floor. But that no longer mattered.
He reached for his phone and hit the contact labeled Bonnie.
Click.
"Aiken? Are you alright?" Bonnie answered quickly, voice tight with concern. "My grandmother's usually calm, I don't know why she reacted like that earlier—I don't think she likes you at all—"
"I'm leaving Mystic Falls," Aiken said, cutting her off.
A pause.
"What?! Why are you leaving?" she blurted, voice rising.
"Family matters."
"…Wait. Did you find your father?" she asked, her voice quieter now, slower.
"I found a lead," he replied. "I'll be gone a few days. A week at most."
"Then take me with you," Bonnie said immediately.
"No, Bonnie. It's too dangerous. I keep… getting a bad feeling."
"Then that's exactly why we should go together."
"Bonnie…" Aiken softened, smiling faintly. "I love you. I won't risk you getting hurt."
Bonnie let out a long sigh on the other end. "Just promise me you'll be careful, okay?"
"I will," he said. Then, gently: "After all… I've got a wife to come home to."
"Wait—Aiken!" she called—
But the call had already ended.
...
Bonnie sat curled on the sofa, phone still in her hand. Her lips were pressed into a pout, her eyes flicking toward the window like she might catch a glimpse of his car one last time.
Her grandmother stepped into the room, holding a cup of tea.
"What happened, Bonnie?"
Bonnie looked up. "Aiken left Mystic Falls."
The older woman raised an eyebrow. "That boy left?"
"Yes," Bonnie nodded. "He got a lead… about his father." Her voice was soft, but her lips curved into a small smile. She wasn't exactly sad—just anxious. But mostly… happy for him.
Her grandmother hummed, sitting beside her.
"He's a good boy."
Bonnie blinked. "Wait—what? Didn't you hate him?"
"No," her grandmother said it as if it hurt her. "I just hate his attitude. But he clearly loves you. I can see that. As long as he doesn't hurt you… I'm okay with him."
Bonnie's eyes welled, and she threw her arms around her.
"Thanks, Grandma," she whispered. "I can't wait to tell Aiken you approve of us."
Her grandmother allowed herself a tiny smile. A siphoner and a witch… together. Strange.
...
The engine of Aiken's Porsche purred to silence as he parked near the front entrance of an elegant hotel tucked between glass towers in downtown Chicago. Dawn was still stretching over the skyline, casting a soft golden sheen over the wet pavement. The city hadn't fully woken up yet, but the streets already pulsed with a different energy than Mystic Falls.
He was exhausted. His psychic powers had been stirring restlessly ever since he crossed the state line, tugging at his nerves like invisible strings.
Inside the hotel lobby, everything smelled of polished marble and expensive cologne. The lighting was low, luxurious. Aiken made his way to the front desk where a young woman with bright red lipstick and an overconfident smile straightened at the sight of him.
"Good morning," he said simply.
"Good morning," she echoed, clearly impressed. She blinked twice, took him in—tall, dark-haired, sharp-eyed—and then smiled more than necessary.
It's been a while since someone that handsome walked in…
"I'd like a room," Aiken said, resting his ID and card on the counter.
"Of course," she said sweetly, handing him the key card almost too eagerly. "Top floor, city view."
Aiken nodded, but paused. "Also… do you happen to know anyone named Alan Hill?"
She tilted her head. "No… sorry. Doesn't ring a bell." She leaned forward slightly, arms pressing together over the desk—making the curve of her chest all the more prominent.
Aiken didn't even glance down.
"What about someone named Milo?" he asked flatly.
She shook her head again, but now her fingers trailed along his hand. "Never heard of him. But…" Her voice lowered, sultry now. "I finish my shift in a few minutes. If you want…" she purred, "I can come up to your room. I'm… very experienced."
Aiken calmly pulled his hand away. "Thanks. But I'm already taken."
She gave a low, amused hum behind him. "Come on… she doesn't have to know."
Aiken stopped mid-step and turned his head just slightly.
"I'm seventeen."
The receptionist froze. Her eyes went wide, stunned. "Seventeen? What the hell are they feeding kids these days?"
"Goodnight," Aiken said, completely unbothered as he turned and walked toward the elevator.
The ride up was smooth. Quiet.
But as he exited the elevator and turned into the hallway leading to his room, a hotel porter passed by, pushing a cart of luggage. Nothing unusual—except for the faint pull of magic. His senses tingled, sharpened.
He didn't stop walking, but his thoughts shifted instantly.
Magic… inside him.
He allowed a small smile to curl at the corner of his lips.
A vampire...
Aiken didn't turn. Didn't react. He just kept walking, eyes forward, footsteps calm. But his mind was suddenly very awake.
Chicago wasn't going to let him rest easy.
...
Downstairs, the lobby had settled into quiet once again. The city outside was awakening, but inside the hotel, silence reigned—until the soft click of polished shoes echoed across the marble floor.
A man walked in through the rotating doors, tall and elegant, with an expensive black coat draped perfectly over his frame. His blonde hair was slicked back with care, and his blue eyes—ice-cold and unreadable—landed on the receptionist like a hawk spotting prey.
He moved with the calm confidence of a predator.
The receptionist's expression brightened—automatically.
"Welcome, Mr. Virell," she said with a smile, clearly recognizing him. "You're in earlier than—"
But her voice faltered the moment his eyes locked onto hers.
Those eyes weren't normal. They pulled at her, tunneled into her thoughts like knives through silk. Her lips parted, and her expression turned glassy. Her shoulders slumped. She was no longer herself.
The man smiled faintly, voice smooth and sharp as a blade dipped in honey.
"What did that boy want?"
The receptionist stared into nothingness, eyes fogged over. "He wanted a room," she murmured.
He tilted his head slightly, and with one pale hand, gently lifted her chin so she faced him directly. "No… He asked about something. Alan and Milo, wasn't it?" His voice was laced with charm.
"Yes…" she replied in a hollow whisper. "He asked if I knew them."
The smile widened. Not kind. Not warm. A predator's smile.
"Good girl," he said, brushing her chin lightly before letting it fall. "Return to your work."
She blinked once, then slowly straightened her posture and resumed typing at her computer, as if nothing had happened.
The vampire turned his back to her and stepped into the center of the lobby. His voice rang out suddenly, light but sharp enough to slice through the air like broken glass.
"Heard that, boys?"
From behind pillars, around corners, even through staff-only doors, hotel workers stepped into view. A bellhop, a janitor, a concierge. They all wore the uniforms of hospitality—but now, their faces bore cruel, eager smiles.
"We've got a newbie hunter," the blonde vampire said with a smirk. "All to ourselves."
They smiled wider.
To be continued...
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How was this chapter? Liked it?
I opted for a journey like this instead of a month of training, it gives more originality to my story and adds depth to it.