Intercut: Vic

High above the city streets, Vic dragged a whetstone along the edge of a curved dagger, his movements methodical and unhurried. From a vintage radio on his desk, the late-night broadcast murmured beneath the rhythmic scraping of metal.

“It’s half past three, and here are your local headlines this morning.Fire crews were called to a disused warehouse in Holbeck around thirty minutes ago, after smoke was seen drifting across Gelderd Road. The blaze is ongoing and is still being brought under control. There were no official occupants registered at the site, though neighbours told our reporter they’d noticed people coming and going at odd hours.”

A disused warehouse on Gelderd Road - Vic laid the ornate blade on the table, turning the volume on the radio higher.

“Police say the cause of the fire is not yet known, but they have ruled out a gas leak. Forensic teams from the OUSR are expected to remain at the scene over the next few days. No injuries have been reported, and residents who were evacuated briefly as a precaution have now returned home.”

Why the OUSR… - Vic’s phone buzzed. He ignored it, concentrating on the radio.

“Local councillor Martin Ellison has called the warehouse a long-standing eyesore, adding that the fire may speed up redevelopment in the area. For now, authorities are treating the blaze as accidental.”

The phone buzzing persisted. Sighing, Vic answered.

“Yes?”

“Praetor… it’s the Holbeck Sanctuary… There's been a fire. It’s wiped the whole place…” came the strained voice. Vic's grip tightened around the phone, every muscle in his jaw locked in a rigid clench that threatened to crack his molars.

That’s why the OUSR. Every time humans touched vampire ash, the Office grew bolder… data, samples, questions no one should ask.

“Praetor?”

“I heard you. Why are you telling me?”

“Luke’s dead. He was there.”

“That’s why I’m finding out from the news.”

“Yes, Praetor.”

“The place is swarming with OUSR. I’ll need to investigate myself.”

“The Chancellor said not to, sir.”

Vic's rage ignited into something far more dangerous; a white-hot fusion of fury and predatory interest that made his fangs ache against his gums.

“A neutral Haven burns and the Chancellor wants me to act blind?” The voice on the other end of the phone took a moment to reply.

“Yes… she was insistent.”

“Then I’ll see her myself.”

“As you wish, Praetor, I will inform her of your arrival.”

Vic hung up.

A neutral haven burning. Every elder in the city will be calling for blood, the fledglings will panic, and the humans... the OUSR will be digging. And she wants me to sit idle while the whole damn society threatens to unravel?

He stood, the leather chair creaking beneath him. The blade slid home with a whisper of metal on velvet, the immaculate silver pommel settling against his hip bone with familiar weight. His jacket fell back into place.

This is not right.