I'd been circling for nearly half an hour, leaping from building to building, nose burning as I forced my senses to stretch further than they wanted to go.
The smell was still there.
Blood. Cold sweat. Cheap perfume. Each person has their unique scent.
The dead man's scent clung to the woman who'd been dragged away, tangled together in my head like a knot I couldn't undo. It was faint now, thinning with every passing minute, smeared by exhaust fumes and trash and the thousand other lives moving through the Red District. The trail was dying.
I stood on the edge of the rooftop, the city stretched beneath me like a living thing—lights flickering, sirens bleeding into the distance, shadows pooling in places I couldn't quite see. I'm about to lose the trail of the woman—.
And the blind man.
No matter how I pushed my senses, no matter how deeply I inhaled, there was nothing to follow. No scent trail. It was like he'd never been there at all.
That alone unsettled me.
"I losing the trail of the woman. And I can't find the blind man," I said under my breath.
"Of course you can't find him," Cerberus replied.
I frowned. "What do you mean of course?"
"You never sensed him in the first place," he said.
I closed my eyes, rewinding the moment in my mind—the collision, the way he stepped back before I even reacted, the calm on his face. Back then, I'd chalked it up to instinct. Luck. Now it felt wrong.
"I smelled everyone else," I said slowly. "The crowd. The cops. The blood. Even the damn rainwater on the pavement."
"But not him," Cerberus finished.
My jaw tightened. "Not even a trace."
"That wasn't an accident," he said.
"So even if I wanted to track him—"
"You couldn't," Cerberus said flatly. "From the beginning, you never had a trail to lose."
"Damn it," I muttered, crouching at the edge.
"Let's focus one at a time, kid," Cerberus said. "Or else you'll lose it completely if you keep chasing. Go down first."
"So what," I snapped back, "you want me to just give up?"
"Walk," he replied.
I frowned. "What?"
"Go down to the street. Walk."
"That makes no sense," I said, straightening. "The scent's stronger from above. Less interference."
"You'll understand when we're down there," he said calmly.
I hesitated, then dropped from the building, landing in a narrow alley with a soft crack of concrete under my boots. The noise echoed briefly before being swallowed by the city. I rolled my shoulders and stepped out onto the street.
That was when I saw it.
A black sedan idled across the road, parked beneath a flickering streetlight. Engine running. Windows tinted. Out of place in a way that made my skin prickle.
"There," Cerberus said. "Get in."
I stared at the car. "You planned this."
"Just move."
I crossed the street, senses tight, and opened the rear door. The interior smelled clean—leather, faint cologne, gun oil. Someone was already sitting inside.
My breath hitched.
It was the man from the pier.
The one who drank Cerberus' blood before dying. He looked better now—no blood-soaked clothes, posture straighter, a couple of bandages still visible—but his eyes widened slightly when he saw me, recognition flickering across his face.
He gave a small, respectful nod. "Good evening," he said, then added carefully, "Mr. Cerberus?"
I closed the door behind me and didn't answer.
"Let him talk," Cerberus murmured in my head.
I leaned back into the seat, folding my arms, and let the presence inside my head rise just enough to seep into my voice and posture. "You know why we're here," Cerberus said through me. "Do you have any leads on the kidnappings in the Red District?"
The man shook his head. "Not directly. I don't know which groups are responsible. They're careful. Fragmented."
My jaw tightened.
"But," he continued, glancing at me through the rearview mirror, "there's an event tonight."
I leaned forward. "What kind of event?"
"Paradise Club," he said. "Private gathering. Invitation only. Gangs, brokers, and several underground organizations will be present." He hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Women are sold there. Auctioned. Sometimes gifted. Usually to the rich."
The word sold hit harder than I expected.
My claws twitched beneath my gloves.
"Playthings," he added quietly, like he hated the word as much as I did.
"That's where they took her," I said.
Cerberus didn't argue. "Take us there."
The man nodded once and pulled the car back into traffic.
As the city rolled past the windows, neon lights smearing across the glass, he spoke again. "There's something else I need to report, Mr. Cerberus."
I didn't look away from the street. "Talk."
"Mr. Gulop," he said. "He may not intend to honor his end of the deal."
That made my stomach sink.
"I overheard him," the man continued. "He's been contacting other parties. Asking around. Specifically looking for a Nihilkin to commission."
My teeth clenched. "I should've killed him."
Cerberus laughed, low and sharp. "There it is."
"The man you called useful," he went on, amused, "has become an obstacle."
I glanced at the driver. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles paling, but he didn't talk.
"See, kid," Cerberus said, his voice rough, seasoned with something like regret, "fear only works on simple men. Gulop isn't simple. He's greedy. Cunning. Desperate. And now he's cornered."
I clenched my jaw. "So what," I said quietly, "he's going to sic one of our kind on me?"
"Possibly," Cerberus replied. "And if he does, it won't just be about killing you. Nihilkin hunt Nihilkin for a reason. Your heart would be a prize."
I felt a chill crawl up my spine. "So he's offering power."
"Yes," Cerberus said flatly. "Power, survival, leverage. And if that fails—" he paused, letting the silence stretch, "—he'll find someone who doesn't care who they tear apart. Nihilkin or human. Collateral means nothing to men like him."
I exhaled slowly. "Sounds like either way, people die."
Cerberus gave a low, humorless chuckle. "Welcome to being hunted by both sides, kid."
I stayed quiet for a few minutes after that, the city sliding past the windows in streaks of neon and shadow. The engine's hum gave me time to think—too much time.
Something kept bothering me.
I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice even though the driver couldn't hear Cerberus anyway. "How did you know he'd be here?"
Cerberus didn't answer right away.
"No," I corrected myself. "How did you make him come here?"
The man driving stiffened just a little at the question. Barely noticeable. If I hadn't been watching the mirror, I might've missed it.
Cerberus chuckled, low and satisfied. "You're learning to ask the right questions."
I waited.
"When you fed him your blood," Cerberus continued, "you didn't just save his life. You bound his soul."
My fingers curled against my thigh. "Bound… how?"
"A contract," he said simply. "Old. Very old. Blood seals it. Intention completes it."
I swallowed. "So you can… what? Control him?"
"Command," Cerberus corrected. "Control implies constant effort. This is simpler."
The driver's hands tightened on the steering wheel, but he didn't protest. Didn't deny it either.
"You gave him an order," I said slowly. "To come here."
"Yes," Cerberus replied. "Even from afar."
"That's not possible," I muttered. "He didn't hear you. You weren't even awake."
Cerberus laughed again. "Distance is meaningless once the soul is tethered. I don't need to speak. I don't need to be present. Intent is enough."
The implication hit me harder than the wind blast earlier that night.
"So whenever you want," I said, "you can just… pull him."
"Guide him," Cerberus said. "Compel him. If I wished, I could order him to walk into fire and he would thank me for the warmth."
My chest tightened. I glanced at the driver again. His face was calm, almost serene—but there was something hollow in his eyes now, something that hadn't been there before.
"And he can't refuse," I said.
"No," Cerberus replied. "He can only hesitate."
I looked away, jaw clenched. "You said he'd be loyal. You didn't say he'd be enslaved."
Cerberus's tone sharpened. "Do not confuse loyalty with freedom, kid. Humans surrender one for the illusion of the other every day."
The car slowed as Paradise Club loomed closer, its lights pulsing like a living thing.
"You used him," I said quietly.
"Yes," Cerberus answered without shame. "And tonight, that use brings you closer to the missing girl."
I hated that he was right.