CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ASHLEY POV
The city looks different at night when you're not running from it. I feel confident walking in the night now, no need for friends as body guards.
I noticed the streetlights smear gold across wet pavement. I looked around noticing how windows glow with other people's evenings. Somewhere close I hear a radio plays too loudly from an open car window, the bass rattling briefly against my ribs before fading.
My phone buzzes. I looked to see it was a message from Harper. I open the message box.
Harper.; Drinks. You. Me. No excuses.
I smile despite myself and type back.
One hour. I waited for her response and it came few seconds later
I'll take it. Don't bail. I smiled again she knows me so well I do not go out once it's late but today it did feel threatening.
I won't. I typed back with confidence
By the time I reach my apartment, the quiet feels earned. I kick off my shoes, drop my bag on the chair, and stand there for a moment, breathing.
The day didn't drain me the way I expected it to.
If anything, I feel… sharpened.
I change clothes. Something soft, fitted but unremarkable. Hair down. No makeup. I want to feel like myself, not the version of me that sits across polished desks and answers to power.
When I step back outside, the air is cooler. Night has settled fully now.
The bar Harper chooses is dim and loud and human. Wood tables scarred with old lives. Music that doesn't try to be impressive. Laughter that spills without asking permission.
She's already there, waving a hand in the air like she's hailing a cab.
"You look suspiciously calm, for once you actually came out in a dark alone" she says as I sit.
"I survived Monday." I said avoiding her obvious question.
She slides a drink toward me. "That's not what I meant."
I take a sip. Something citrusy. Sharp. "Then say what you mean."
She studies me openly. "You didn't flinch today at work and didn't complain about coming out late, men! you have changed."
"So I heard."I said, her hand landed lightly on my shoulder in an attempt to playful hit me I gave little response to her touching.
"If you do not want to tell me what's going on I will understand and wait, but I must tell you everyone noticed." She said, her tone getting serious.
"Everyone always notices things they don't understand."
She snorts. "So what changed."
I swirl the drink slowly. "I stopped letting other people set the temperature."
She considers that, then nods. "I like this version of you."
"Me too." I said lifting my drink to my mouth and sipping it.
We talk. About work. About nothing. About everything except the one subject hovering at the edge of the table.
Eventually, Harper leans in. "So. The boss."
There it is.
"What about him." I asked fridging ignorance
"You and him," she clarifies. "There's something."
"Sure" I watch her eyes lighted up and then I added "Professional relationship."
She rolls her eyes. "Ashley."
"I'm serious." I said smiling
"I know," she says. "That's why it's interesting."
I don't answer, because if I do, I might say something I'm not ready to hear out loud.
We leave before the night tips too far. Outside, the air is cold enough to sting.
"I'm glad you came out with me tonight" Harper says as we part ways.
"So am I."I walk the rest of the way home alone.
Inside my apartment, I kick off my shoes again and lean back against the door, exhaling slowly.
The quiet rushes in. I took off my clothes and underwear too a shower and got ready for bed.
DAMIEN POV
Night comes down slow over the city, dragging shadows behind it like a stain that won't scrub out.
By the time I leave the office, CrownWave is almost empty. Desks dark. Screens sleeping. Security nods too quickly when I pass. They feel it, even if they don't know what it is.
I don't go home.
I drive.
The city opens up after dark. Neon signs buzz awake. Bars exhale laughter and bad decisions onto the sidewalks. Somewhere music thumps hard enough to rattle windows. Somewhere else, a fight spills into the street and burns out just as fast.
Ordinarily, hunger should rise now.
It doesn't, instead there's that same irritation, sharper this time, like something under my skin scratching to get out.
I pull over near the river and kill the engine. The water below reflects broken light, never holding one shape for long.
Hybridized.
That's the word that won't leave me alone.
I press my fingers to the steering wheel until the leather creaks. Emma's face flickers through my mind, not as she was in the office, but later. Hollow-eyed. Confused. Still reaching.
I didn't mean to do that.
Intent has always mattered. Power answers intention. That was one of the first laws.
And yet here we are.
My phone buzzes.
Eric.
"Report," I say.
"She's not home," he replies. Wind in the background. He's moving. "Neighbors haven't seen her. No activity on her accounts."
"She didn't go to work," I say.
"That tracks." Jordan cuts in on the line. "We checked the usual places. Clubs. Hotels. Private apartments."
"And." I asked getting agitated
"And she's feeding," he says. "Badly."
My jaw tightens. "How many."
"Hard to tell," Mason says now, calm as ever. "But it's spreading. Not fast. Yet."
I close my eyes. I can feel it now that they say it. A faint distortion in the city's rhythm. Like static bleeding into a signal. Desire without release. Hunger without end.
I created that.
"Bring her in," I say.
Eric hesitates. "Damien—"
"Bring. Her. In." I said and end the call.
I sit there longer than I should, the city breathing around me. This is what fear looks like for someone like me. Not panic. Calculation under pressure.
I think of Ashley.
I shouldn't. I do anyway.
Her steadiness this morning. The way she didn't flinch when I looked at her. The way my presence no longer bent her the way it should have.
Whatever she is becoming, it's accelerating.
And whatever Emma is becoming is proof that I am no longer operating in clean lines.
That realization cuts deeper than any blade.
I start the car again and head toward the only place that still quiets the noise.
An old church sits between two closed storefronts, abandoned long before I was born the first time. The doors are chained, but that has never mattered.
Inside, the air is cool and dust-heavy. Candles burn where no one remembers lighting them. Shadows stretch long across cracked stone.
I sit in the front pew and let the silence press in.
"Six," I murmur, not sure if I'm calling them or accusing them.
Nothing answers.
Good.
For centuries, my feeds were precise. Controlled. I took what I needed and left the rest intact. The Allo was a side effect, not a weapon.
Now it's evolving.
If Emma feeds again, she will not just hollow people out. She will fracture them. Leave behind echoes that pull others toward the same emptiness.
A chain reaction.
A new class of demon born not from intent, but from fear.
From my fear.
"This ends," I say to the dark.
Ashley is probably home by now. Unaware of how close she stands to the center of all this.
I should keep my distance.
I don't.
Because she isn't just my complication.
She may be the only thing that stops this from spreading.
And that terrifies me more than the monster I just created.
Night deepens.
Somewhere out there, Emma is still walking.
And I am running out of time.
The church doesn't calm me the way it used to. That's how I know things are worse than I'm admitting.
I leave before the candles burn too low.
Outside, the air has cooled, sharp enough to bite. The city smells different at this hour. Less pretense. More honesty. Sweat.
Alcohol. Fear. Want.
I move through it unseen, not cloaked, just ignored. Humans are excellent at not noticing what unsettles them.
My phone vibrates again.
Jordan this time.
"We found the pattern," he says without greeting.
"Speak."
"She's not feeding randomly. She's orbiting."
I stop walking.
"Orbiting what."
"A feeling," he says. "Places where people already feel unfinished. Clubs that never quite satisfy. Parties that promise release and don't deliver. She's amplifying what's already broken." That makes my stomach twist.
"Casualties." I asked
"None dead," Mason adds, joining the call.
"But they're changed. Frustrated. Chasing something they can't name."
"Addicted," I say.
"Yes," Eric replies quietly. "To absence." Silence stretches between us, heavy and uncomfortable.
"This wasn't how it worked," I say.
"No," Mason agrees. "Because you broke the rule." I close my eyes briefly. Never return what you take. That was the rule.
Essence flows one way for a reason. Once given, it doesn't come back clean. It carries imprint. Intent. Identity.
I gave Emma me. And now she is echoing.
"Where is she now," I ask.
"Moving," Jordan says. "Fast. She doesn't know what she is, but she knows what she needs."
"And what she needs," I murmur, "is impossible."
"Yes."
I lean against a brick wall and look up at the sliver of moon caught between buildings. Pale. Distant. Untouched by the mess below.
"This doesn't reach Ashley," I say.
It's not a question.
Eric exhales. "Not yet."
"That wasn't an answer."
"She's not feeding on light," Mason says carefully. "She can't. Whatever you did blocked that path." Relief flares briefly.
Then Jordan ruins it.
"But light feels her."
I straighten slowly."Explain." I almost snapped at him but control my voice.
"She's noisy," he says. "To anything that's sensitive. Anyone who's… aligned differently."
Ashley.
My jaw tightens.
"She'll feel it," I say.
"Yes," Eric replies. "Eventually."
"Then we end it before then." A pause.
"You mean contain," Mason corrects.
"No," I say. "I mean end."
Jordan laughs once, sharp and humorless. "You're the one who panicked when killing was an option."
"That was then."
"And now."
"Now I fix my mistake." The line goes quiet.
Finally Mason speaks.
"You won't be able to." I turn, anger snapping hot and sudden. "Watch me."
"You won't," he continues calmly, "because you're still afraid. Not of her. Of what finishing it means." I know what he's implying.
"What if you're wrong," I ask. "What if this stabilizes." Jordan snorts.
"You don't stabilize corruption. You cauterize it." Another vibration. A message this time.
Eric sends a location pin.
"She stopped moving," he says.
"Warehouse district. East side."My pulse kicks hard.
"I'm going," I say.
"Don't," Jordan replies immediately. "If she senses you—"
"She already does," I snap. "I'm the source."
I end the call and move. I walked back to my car and drove towards her.
The warehouse district is dead this late. Empty streets. Broken lights. Buildings squatting like abandoned animals. Music bleeds from somewhere deeper in, distorted and heavy.
I feel her before I see anything.
The distortion is stronger here. Desire stretched thin. A vibration that doesn't resolve. People inside chasing release that never arrives.
My fault.
I stop across the street and watch.
A line of bodies slips in and out of a warehouse entrance. Some laughing. Some tense. All expectant.
Emma is inside.
Feeding.
Not fully. Not cleanly. But enough to cause great damage.
I don't move yet.
Because for the first time since this began, I understand the full weight of what I did.
I didn't just create a problem.
I created a mirror.
She is what happens when my fear overrides my discipline.
And if I walk in there now, angry and determined to erase my mistake, I risk doing it again.
I pull my phone back out from my pocket.
I saw the one message I left unsent.
Ashley's name glows on the screen.
I couldnt sent the message or call her number
Because I acknowledge the truth I've been circling all night.
Whatever she is becoming… whatever steadiness she carries… it is already changing the rules around me.
And if I don't learn to adapt instead of dominate,
Emma won't be the last thing I break.
I slip the phone back into my pocket and step off the curb.
Night holds its breath.
So do I.