I’ve begged before. But this time, I did it with grit in my teeth.

The sun hadn’t even risen when I started making calls. Numbers I hadn’t touched in years. Names I hadn’t spoken aloud since the old days. The good ones. The bloody ones. The ones who owed me more than just a favor—they owed me their lives.

And one by one, they said no.

“I can’t get involved, Rhea.”
“Not my war.”
“Too hot. Too many eyes.”

One even hung up before I finished my sentence.

I didn’t blame them. I just hated them for it.

By noon, I’d tried everyone I thought might still pick up. The warehouse in the East End—burned down. Quinn’s bar? Shuttered. Delilah moved out of state. Diego was in jail—maybe. Or dead. Nobody seemed to know.

I walked for miles that day. Boots caked with dried salt and city grime, hands jammed deep in my pockets like I could hide my frustration in my seams.

Nyx didn’t say much. For once.

“You knew they’d say no,” she said eventually, her tone gentler than usual.

“Yeah,” I muttered aloud. “Still stings.”

People avoided me on the sidewalks. It wasn’t the scowl—I’ve always had that. It was the way I moved. Like something waiting to uncoil. A warning written in every step.

I stopped outside a corner store with bars on the windows and stared at my reflection in the glass. Pale. Hollow-eyed. Not the girl I used to be. Not the monster, either. Something worse. Something unfinished.

“You don’t need them,” Nyx said, trying to cheer me up. “We’ve got teeth. And me. I’m better than people.”

“They’ve got money. Lawyers. Judges. We’ve got... righteous indignation?”

“And fangs. Don’t forget the fangs.”

I didn’t respond. Just turned and kept walking.

By evening, the wind had turned cold and sharp. I sat on a broken bench outside a boarded-up laundromat, my phone dark in my hand.

I remembered them.

Every single one who said no.

Sariah. Who I saved from a silver bullet when she was barely out of her Change.
Caleb. Who I dragged out of a basement after a botched raid, half his ribs broken.
Nico. Who cried when I left the pack.

I said their names quietly. Each one like a stone dropping into a still lake.

I wasn’t even sure if I was hoping they'd magically show up. I just wanted to feel the weight of their names. Let the betrayal sink in cleanly.

Then it hit me.

That shift in the air. The way the street’s sounds suddenly dulled, like someone had thrown a blanket over the world.

Nyx stilled.

“Rhea…”

I didn’t move. Just lifted my gaze to the smeared window of an old pawn shop across the street. Watched the reflections behind me.

Too far to see faces. But close enough to feel it.

Eyes. Watching.

The rhythm of the city had changed. That instinct that lived deep in my bones started to hum. A vibration I’d learned not to ignore.

They weren’t moving yet. Just waiting.

Testing.

“They’re here,” Nyx whispered. “Or close.”

I rose, slow and measured, careful not to draw attention. Didn’t run. Didn’t speak.

Just started walking.

My heart wasn’t racing. It had gone quiet. Steady.

Because I wasn’t afraid anymore.

I was preparing.

Let them follow. Let them think I didn’t notice.

By the time they realized what I was, it would be too late.