The night didn't let him rest. Even after the Ashborn's corpse had cooled and the last ember of his Bloodfire dimmed against his veins, Aubrey felt eyes. Not just the memory of watchers on rooftops, but something sharper, heavier, like the city itself was leaning in to study him.
He slipped through the alleys with his hood pulled low, muscles aching with every step, the echo of the fight replaying inside his head. The screams, the molten blood hissing against brick, the way his hands had burned red like torches. It should have left him drained. Instead, the fire inside him still pulsed, restless, daring him to light it again.
Sirens screamed somewhere in the distance. Not for him—at least not yet. He cut across a deserted courtyard where weeds sprouted through cracked concrete, broken glass glittering like tiny stars under the faint neon glow. Every sound was sharper now. A can rolling. A door slamming. A whisper carried by the wind. His instincts sharpened like blades.
Someone was following.
He didn't turn right away. Aubrey had learned patience on rooftops, in the gang-choked alleys where looking back too soon meant a knife in the ribs. He let his pace stay steady, his breathing measured, until he reached a stretch of street caught between two flickering signs. Only then did he pause, glancing at the reflection in a shop window smeared with grime.
A shadow slipped across the rooftop above him. Quick. Purposeful. Not random.
Aubrey cursed under his breath. The watchers hadn't just vanished into the night—they were tracking him.
He pushed forward, weaving through narrow lanes where steam hissed from broken vents. The scent of oil and charred metal clung to the air, making his throat itch. He kept one hand near his jacket pocket where a knife handle waited, though he already knew it wouldn't matter. If those rooftop figures wanted him, knives wouldn't be enough.
The footsteps behind him grew bolder. Not sloppy, not loud, but close enough that he could hear the faint scrape of boots against gravel.
Aubrey turned a corner sharply—and stopped.
The alley ended in a collapsed wall, chunks of rebar jutting out like skeletal teeth. A dead end. He clenched his jaw, chest burning. The fire inside him surged, begging to be set loose. Not yet. If he lit up here, the whole city block would see it.
A figure dropped from the rooftop. Silent. Graceful. Cloaked in shadow.
Aubrey's fists tightened. The figure didn't rush him. They stood there, half-hidden by the glow of a broken streetlamp, their face obscured. He caught only the glint of eyes—sharp, watching. Measuring.
"You've been sloppy," the figure said. A woman's voice. Calm, even, carrying no threat and yet… every word was deliberate. "The Ashborn shouldn't have been yours to kill."
Aubrey froze, sweat slicking his palms. She knew.
"What the hell are you talking about?" His voice came out harsher than he intended, gravel in his throat.
The woman tilted her head slightly, studying him like he was a puzzle she had already solved. "Your fire isn't hidden anymore. Every gang, every watcher, every hunter will smell it now. You lit the sky tonight."
Aubrey's stomach sank. He wanted to demand who she was, why she knew about his fire—but instinct told him not to show weakness.
Instead, he stepped forward, closing the distance by a pace. "If you've been following me, say it straight. Who are you?"
The woman didn't answer. Not directly. She stepped back into the shadows, melting almost completely into the night, and her voice came low, like smoke slipping between cracks.
"Survive tomorrow, and maybe you'll earn that answer."
Then she was gone. No footsteps, no rustle of cloth. Just gone.
Aubrey stood in the empty alley, heart pounding, his Bloodfire roaring under his skin like it wanted to chase her. He clenched his fists and forced it down, knuckles white.
The silence pressed in. He let out a shaky breath, looking up at the rooftops where the shadows had gathered before. Empty now. But he knew better than to believe they'd stopped watching.
He turned back toward the streets, walking faster this time, weaving deeper into the maze of alleys that had once been his playground. But they felt different now. Smaller. Closing in.
The city had always been dangerous, but tonight it was something else—alive, hunting him back.
And for the first time since his Bloodfire had awakened, Aubrey wondered if the real fight hadn't even started yet.