Chapter 11 — Before the Hour Strikes
Kevin didn't know how long they ran.
By the time the SUV's doors slammed shut and the engine roared to life, his legs were weak and his chest ached. He collapsed into the backseat, his eyes darting between the three strangers who had saved him — again — and the window, where the city lights blurred into streaks of gold and black.
No one spoke for several minutes.
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.
"Why…" His voice cracked, and he tried again. "Why are they all after me?"
The man driving didn't take his eyes off the road, but his jaw tightened.
The woman in the passenger seat finally turned to look at him.
"Because," she said simply, "you're the last of his bloodline. And tomorrow, at 3 a.m., the Mark of Cain will awaken in you. You're turning eighteen."
Kevin froze, his stomach dropping.
"What?" he whispered.
The woman next to him nodded grimly.
"Cain's blood runs through you. And when you turn eighteen — tomorrow — the Mark fully manifests. You'll inherit everything that comes with it. The power. The curse. The burden."
Kevin shook his head in disbelief, his breath coming faster. "No. No, I'm not— I didn't ask for this—"
The man's voice cut him off, low and hard.
"And nobody cares. Not them. Not the creatures of the night. Not Lilith. The only thing that matters now is stopping you before it awakens. That's why they're hunting you."
Kevin's eyes darted between them. "What do you mean, 'creatures of the night?'"
The woman in front met his gaze evenly.
"Vampires. Werewolves. Witches. Things older and darker than you can imagine. Every one of them knows what your bloodline means — what it did to them centuries ago. And every one of them wants you dead before you can become what they fear most."
Kevin's chest tightened painfully.
"What… what is that?" he asked weakly.
The man's eyes flicked to him in the rearview mirror, grim and steady.
"The nightmare of their kind," he said. "A hunter born of Cain's blood. The one thing they can't kill. The one thing that can kill them all."
Kevin stared at him, horrified.
"No. No, I'm just— I'm just a bartender. I'm not— I'm not anything!"
But even as he said it, a faint warmth pulsed in his chest — deep, strange, ancient — and he knew something inside him was waking.
The girl sitting next to him leaned forward slightly, her expression softening just a fraction.
"You're not a monster yet," she said. "But they don't care. As far as they're concerned, Cain's blood is enough. You're a threat just by existing."
Kevin pressed his palms to his face, his whole body trembling.
"So what happens if I make it to tomorrow?" he asked finally, his voice muffled.
The woman in front hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"The Mark manifests," she said. "And then… you're on your own."
Kevin's breath caught, his heart pounding in his ears.
"So what do I do?" he whispered.
No one answered right away.
Finally, the man spoke, his voice low and grim.
"You survive," he said. "Until the hour strikes, you survive. And pray we can keep you alive long enough to see what you really are."
Kevin sank back into his seat, his chest heaving, his mind spinning.
All around him, the night seemed darker. Colder.
And in his mind's eye, he could still see her.
Lilith.
Standing in the doorway. Watching him with that faint, knowing smile.