Nick Xevoz's POV
I stood in the dark long after the car's taillights vanished from the pier road, the sound of its engine dissolving into the city's distant hum. The sea beyond the dock slapped lazily against the pylons, indifferent, as if nothing of consequence had happened here tonight.
Inside my head, Cerberus snarled.
"Great," he growled, voice echoing against my skull like claws on stone. "We lost four meals."
I exhaled slowly and stepped forward, my shadow stretching across the asphalt as I walked back toward the scene. Broken glass crunched under my boots. "I think it's enough for you," I said. My voice sounded steadier than I felt. "We won't gain anything by killing too many people. After all, they still have their uses."
Cerberus laughed, low and contemptuous. "Use?" he said. "You're too naïve, kid. That man—Edward Gulop—do you really think he'll keep his promise? You didn't spare him. You invested in him. And investments can turn hostile." His tone sharpened. "You just gave him time to prepare for you."
I stopped near one of the parked cars, the top was dented where a body had landed earlier. Blood streaked down its side like rust. "He's afraid," I replied. "Fear keeps people honest."
"For a while," Cerberus shot back. "Then it makes them desperate. And desperate people resorted to desperate measures."
He didn't give me time to respond before continuing, his voice sliding into something almost mocking. "And that woman. You not only let her live—you gave her half your loot. You're clearly into her."
I opened my mouth to argue, then froze.
Rebecca's face surfaced uninvited in my mind. Unlike Mae's—Mae's was soft, familiar, full of innocence and warmth that belonged to daylight and school hallways. Rebecca's was different. Composed. Elegant. Calm even when staring down a gun barrel. There was steel under that calm, and ambition layered beneath it.
"I…" I hesitated, then admitted quietly, "I forgot to ask her full name. How can I find her? All I know is her name, Rebecca."
Cerberus burst out laughing. It echoed too loudly inside me, predatory amusement rippling through our shared nerves. "Don't worry, kid. You'll see her sooner than you think."
I frowned and glanced toward the empty road. "How'd you know?"
"Because I saw it in her eyes," he said. "Interest. Curiosity. The dangerous kind. She won't walk away from you."
"Really?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"Probably," he said, far too pleased.
Our conversation was cut short by a wet, metallic thud.
I turned toward the sound just in time to see a body slide off the roof of a nearby car and collapse onto the ground. The man groaned—a thin, broken sound—but he was alive. Barely. One of Gulop's men, the one who'd been thrown earlier. His chest rose in shallow jerks, blood bubbling at his lips.
I approached him, already lifting my hand. Ending it would be quick. Merciful, even.
Before I could act, Cerberus spoke. "Wait. He might be useful to us."
I paused. "Useful how?"
He didn't answer. Instead, my body moved.
It happened without warning, without consent. My arm lifted, fingers curling inward as claws slid free with a sickening scrape of bone and flesh. I gasped, pain flaring sharp and bright as I slashed my own palm open. Blood poured freely, dark and thick.
My feet carried me forward. I knelt beside the dying man, his eyes fluttering open in confusion and terror. I tried to pull back—but my bleeding hand extended toward his mouth.
"No—" I started.
Too late.
A drop of blood fell onto his lips. Instinct took over. He drank.
The change was immediate. His convulsions slowed. The frantic hammering of his heart—something I could feel now, somehow—steadied. Color crept back into his skin, faint but unmistakable.
I stared, horrified. "What did you do?" I whispered.
Cerberus sounded smug. "I made him live and loyal. With our blood in his system, he'll obey you wholeheartedly. As the guardian of the underworld, I know a few tricks to bind dying souls in a contract to obey me."
I reeled back, clutching my injured hand as it began to heal on its own. "I can do that?"
"We can do more than you can imagine," Cerberus replied. There was pride in his voice. And hunger.
I leaned towards the unconscious man's ear and whispered, "Go back to your boss. Tell him you survived the ordeal. Work for him. Inform me of his plan."
After saying that, I rose unsteadily and turned away from the man, who now lay breathing evenly, eyes unfocused but calm. I didn't know what I'd just made him into—and that scared me more than the killing.
Two of Gulop's remaining men lay nearby, unmoving, dead. I walked toward them, my chest tight, my senses screaming with the smell of blood and fear and something darker that made my mouth water.
I reached up and pulled the lower half of my mask down.
Cold air hit my face. My fangs extended with a dull ache.
The first man's chest tore open easily. Too easily. I ripped his heart free, heat flooding my hands, and bit down. The taste was overwhelming—iron and life and something intoxicating that sent a shudder through my spine.
The second followed just as quickly. No hesitation. No thought. It was like eating a snack, casual and efficient.
Then I stood over Yosep's body.
His face was frozen in surprise, eyes glassy, mouth half-open. According to Rebecca, most of the dead men around him—his friends—lay scattered across the pier. Men he'd laughed with, planned with, betrayed.
I tore out his heart and consumed it in silence.
When I straightened, the pier felt too quiet.
Several bodies remained. I stared at them, something twisting painfully in my chest. My feet refused to move.
Cerberus noticed. "What are you doing?" he demanded. "Why did you stop?"
"I think…" I swallowed. "I think we don't need to eat more."
"You're too sentimental," he snapped. "They're already dead. Taking their hearts won't change anything."
"But—"
"No buts," he cut in. "Just take their hearts and eat them."
I stepped toward one of the bodies, lifted my hand—
—and stopped halfway.
"I can't," I said, my voice shaking. "I don't want to be like them."
I didn't need to explain who I meant. The Nihilkin. The monsters. The things that treated humans as livestock.
Cerberus was silent for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was colder. Heavier.
"You already crossed the line, kid. Whether you want it or not, you're one of us now."
He pressed in harder, his presence filling my head. "Deny it all you want, but you've already changed. There's no turning back."
I clenched my fists. "Then I set my rule," I said firmly. "I can't harm innocent people. Dead or alive."
A harsh laugh echoed through me. "Do you really think these men were good people? How naive."
"Maybe," I said quietly. "But that's my line."
The night wind swept across the pier, carrying the smell of salt and blood out toward the sea. Somewhere far away, sirens wailed—too distant to matter now.
"I think we're done tonight," I added. "Let's go home."
For once, Cerberus didn't argue.
I turned my back on the bodies, on the blood-soaked concrete, and walked away from the pier.