"Fuck, fuck," Locke muttered under his breath as he stared at the figure adjusting weapons under the streetlight. "This isn't some wild monster showing up to steal my kills, is it?"
He let out a sharp breath, irritation flashing across his face. He'd just been considering whether partnering with Blade might be efficient—let the man do what he did best and quietly harvest extraordinary points off the aftermath. Before he could even settle on a strategy, the hunter himself had driven straight into his hunting ground.
Brown leaned forward in his seat, squinting. "Shet. Isn't that FBI?" he whispered. "What are they doing here? Locke, what do we do now?"
You're asking me? Locke shot him a sideways look but didn't waste time answering out loud. His gaze locked onto Blade, who had already given a subtle nod to the red-haired woman beside him and started moving toward the warehouse.
Options flickered through his mind at high speed.
Let them proceed?
Intervene?
Cooperate?
No.
Letting Blade walk in meant surrendering control. If Blade stormed the nest now and somehow succeeded, Locke would lose a concentrated batch of extraordinary points he had already tagged. Worse, he'd lose initiative.
In less than a second, Locke made his decision.
His right hand shot forward and hit the switch panel mounted beneath the dashboard.
"Dudududu!"
"Ding ding ding!"
The black Ford SUV parked under the elevated overpass exploded to life. Strobe lights cut through the darkness, flashing red and blue. The siren followed, shrill and unmistakable—law enforcement presence, clear the area.
At the warehouse entrance, two vampires who had been lazily sharing a cigarette snapped their heads up.
"What the hell?"
"Smells like cops."
"Ours?"
"Idiot. Tell the boss."
One of them immediately turned and rushed inside. The other slapped a control switch mounted by the door.
The heavy steel door of the frozen pork warehouse began sliding shut.
Blade stopped mid-step. Natasha's hand drifted instinctively toward the pistols at her waist as she frowned.
This wasn't normal. Not at this hour. Not in this corner of Brooklyn.
Under the viaduct, the patrol lights continued to strobe against the concrete pillars.
After triggering the distraction, Locke calmly buckled his seatbelt. "Let's go."
Brown blinked. "We're leaving?"
"Yeah."
As they pulled out from under the overpass, Locke watched in the side mirror. Shadows peeled away from the warehouse like spilled ink. Several figures—vampires abandoning the evening early—slipped into the night and scattered.
"That's enough," Locke said lightly.
The nest had been alerted. Whatever Blade intended to do, the element of surprise was gone. No mass slaughter tonight. At best, he'd walk into a prepared trap. At worst, he'd waste time.
Either way, Locke's plan remained intact.
Tomorrow, under sunlight and with ultraviolet rounds ready, those same vampires would be vulnerable. A few slipping away now didn't matter. There were more than enough to collect in daylight.
Brown finally caught on as he saw multiple black silhouettes fleeing the warehouse perimeter. He nodded, tapped the accelerator, and merged back toward Manhattan traffic.
Behind them, Blade remained still for several seconds. He had clearly seen the fleeing vampires. He could have chased. He didn't.
Instead, his eyes tracked the departing Ford SUV until it disappeared into the dark.
After a long pause, Blade's thick lips moved slightly. "Blood servant."
Natasha glanced at him. "What?"
"Blood servant," Blade repeated evenly.
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Ordinary humans who worship vampires," Blade explained, voice low and controlled. "They serve them. Act as slaves. Hoping one day they'll be turned."
Just as some people envied mutant abilities, others envied vampiric immortality. Eternal life was a powerful temptation.
Some were willing to kneel for it.
"They handle logistics. Infiltrate systems. Law enforcement. Government." Blade's eyes narrowed slightly. "They smell close to vampires. But not quite."
Natasha folded her arms. "You're saying that guy from earlier?"
Blade nodded once. "The Sentinel agent. Locke Underwood. He's not a vampire. He's a blood servant."
It clicked into place in his mind. Earlier at the bureau, Locke's scent had registered as similar—adjacent—but incomplete. Now the interference tonight confirmed it.
No vampire would expose a nest like that. A blood servant protecting assets? That made sense.
Natasha's expression tightened. "That's impossible. His background—"
Blade cut her off. "I've seen rich men beg for this. The more power they have, the more they fear dying."
Natasha didn't argue further, but her eyes darkened thoughtfully. "Can you identify a blood servant?"
"Yes." Blade answered without hesitation. "They're marked. A private seal."
"Marked where?"
"Hidden places. Tongue. Behind the ear. Somewhere discreet."
Like branding livestock. Ownership, invisible at a glance but undeniable up close.
Natasha absorbed that information quietly.
Blade gave the now-sealed warehouse one final look. He wasn't afraid of a fight. But walking into a prepared nest after losing surprise was stupidity, not courage. And there was already a bounty circulating in certain vampire circles for his head.
He turned without another word and returned to his vehicle.
Soon after, Locke's phone vibrated again as they crossed into Manhattan.
"Sir," came the bureau voice. "He's leaving."
"Track him," Locke replied smoothly. "Log his route and destination."
"Yes, sir."
He ended the call and leaned back, smiling faintly at Brown. "He's gone."
Brown exhaled in relief.
A moment later, he frowned. "But how did he know about that place?"
Locke shrugged casually. "The dead vampire we took out? Informant. It's not strange that Blade would trace the same lead."
Brown considered that and nodded.
"This won't interfere with us, right?" he asked.
"They hunt their way," Locke said calmly. "We hunt ours. They answer to the FBI. We answer to the Sentinel Secret Service."
Brown let out a short laugh. "Yeah. As long as he doesn't cross into our operation."
Locke smiled faintly but didn't respond.
He was already thinking ahead.
...
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