Chapter 6

It had been five days since I left that place with Kieran—five long, tangled days since Lord Perth Otho told me my father’s debt was now mine to carry.

Five days since I’d been dragged into this world I never asked for, forced under the weight of secrets I didn’t understand. And tonight, after burying my father, I should have been too tired to think, but my mind refused to quiet down. Within these five days, I’d learned the truth of how he died — a gunshot to the head, self-inflicted, apparently.

I lay sprawled on my bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything. The service, the strangers’ whispers, the rose sinking into the dirt. And that note.

That damn note.

If you really want to know how your father died, meet me at Ashvale Square. Midnight.

The paper burned a hole in my pocket all night. I’d read it a dozen times, folding and unfolding it until the edges were soft. It was vague, infuriatingly vague. Ashvale Square was massive—full of cafés, clubs, shops, and little alleyways. No specific meeting point, no landmark. Just “Ashvale Square.”

How the hell was I supposed to know where to go?

I rolled onto my side, glaring at the clock on the wall. 11:30. Time was slipping. Every tick of the second hand clawed at my nerves.

From the next room, I could hear the faint hum of Kieran’s presence. The vampire had been staying in my apartment since we returned. At first, it had been strange, suffocating even. But over these five days, I’d gotten used to the lazy footsteps padding across the floor, the way his silences filled up the air like shadows.

It was also the reason I couldn’t just stroll out.

Kieran was too watchful, even when he pretended not to care. If he noticed me gone, he’d track me down before I even made it past the next street.

But I had to go. I needed answers.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, heart pounding, listening. Nothing but silence from the other room. Maybe he was asleep, maybe not. Either way, it was worth the risk.

Quiet as I could, I dressed—a simple black T-shirt, dark jeans, and my leather jacket. No cologne, no fuss. Just enough to blend in. I slipped on my boots, grabbed the note one last time, and shoved it back into my pocket.

By 11:45, I was easing the door open, every creak sounding like thunder to my guilty ears. I winced, pausing, but nothing stirred. The hinges gave way, and I slipped through, pulling the door shut behind me.

The city night wrapped around me, cool and sharp. The streets glistened with leftover rain, the neon of late-night shops smearing across puddles. Ashvale Square wasn’t far, but every step felt heavier, like someone was tightening a noose around my neck.

By the time I reached the Square, it was already buzzing. A mess of cars, music from distant clubs, couples laughing as they weaved between the crowds. It was almost midnight, but the city wasn’t ready to sleep.

And that made the note’s instructions even more ridiculous.

I stopped in the middle of the plaza, looking around. Dozens of cafés, bars, even a bookstore still lit up. Which one? Which corner? It was like waiting for a ghost to tap me on the shoulder.

Finally, I sighed and ducked into a random café mostly because it was half-empty and quieter than the others. If the stranger wanted to find me, fine. I’d be here.

I ordered nothing, just sat at a table near the window, watching the clock on the wall tick closer to midnight. My fingers drummed against the table. The whole thing felt stupid. What if no one came? What if this was a prank? Or worse, what if it was a setup?

At 12:02, I stood up, exasperated. “This is insane,” I muttered under my breath. “I’m going home.”

But as I turned, ready to leave, a voice slid behind me like silk.

“Santa Griffin, leaving so soon?”

I froze. Slowly, I turned.

And there he was—the man from the funeral. The one with the sharp suit and sharper smile. His hair was neatly combed back, his expression unreadable except for the glint in his eyes that made my stomach clench.

“You,” I said flatly.

“Me,” he replied, amused, as though we were old friends meeting again. He tilted his head, that same unsettling smile never leaving his face. “I had a feeling you’d be here.”

He walked forward without waiting for an invitation and slid into the seat across from me.

I stayed standing, jaw tight. “You put the note in my pocket.”

“Direct. Just like your father.” He chuckled softly, eyes gleaming with something playful and predatory all at once. “Yes, I slipped it there. I’m glad you came.”

The way he said it made my skin prickle.

“My father,” I said slowly, sitting back down despite myself. “You knew him?”

The man tilted his head again, the smile widening. “Knew him… worked with him… shared certain interests. Depends how you define knowing.”

The sharpness in his gaze cut right through me. I felt cold all over.

“What are you talking about?”

“Relax, relax,” he said lightly, waving at the waitress. “We’ll order something first. No need to spoil the mood with heavy conversation.”

“I’m not in the mood to drink.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he wagged a finger. “Don’t be rude. Hospitality matters.”

When the waitress approached, he ordered two drinks without even asking me. I sat stiff, every instinct screaming that something was wrong here.

“You’re tense,” he said once she left, his voice low and smooth. “But you wouldn’t have come if you didn’t already suspect. You don’t believe your father killed himself, do you?”

My throat tightened.

“What if I told you your suspicions were right?” he whispered.

I stared at him, pulse hammering in my ears. His smile didn’t falter, his eyes glinting with twisted amusement. Something about the way he leaned back, so casual, so confident, made me want to bolt.

“Who are you?” I demanded.

He only laughed. A strange, hollow laugh that echoed in the quiet café.

Before I could push further, the bell above the door jingled.

“So this is where you slipped off to” Kieran’s voice drawled.

I stiffened. Of course.

The vampire strolled in, blond hair catching the dim light, green eyes sharp as knives despite the lazy tone of his voice. He looked between me and the stranger, expression unreadable.

“I can’t even keep my eyes off you for too long,” he said, gaze landing squarely on me.

The stranger’s grin widened, almost delighted. “Ah, I see you’ve got company.”

Kieran’s eyes narrowed. They didn’t speak for a moment, just stared at each other across the table, tension thick enough to choke on.

Then the stranger chuckled, leaning back. “Well, I won’t intrude. Santa Griffin…” His smile sharpened. “Until our next meeting.”

Before I could move, Kieran’s hand clamped around my wrist. “We’re leaving.”

“Hey—let me go!” I protested, tugging against his grip. Heads turned, but no one interfered.

The stranger just laughed again, watching us like he was enjoying the show. He didn’t move to stop us, didn’t even seem concerned. Just sat there, smiling that same unnerving smile.

“See you soon, Santa,” he called as Kieran dragged me toward the door.

I twisted, glaring at him even as Kieran hauled me outside into the night.

The laughter followed me out, echoing in my ears long after the café door slammed shut.

And for the first time, I realized I might have stepped into something far worse than I imagined.