To Become The Monster
Chaining his wrist to the iron bedframe—not because we thought it would hold him forever, but because it might slow him down long enough for us to survive.
When we finished, he looked less like a monster dragged from the street and more like a warlord temporarily caged.
Mae sat heavily in the chair, eyes never leaving him. “So,” she said softly, “what exactly did we bring into your apartment?”
I met her gaze.
“Someone important,” I said. “And someone dangerous enough that people will come looking.”
Mae’s mouth curved into a slow, uneasy smile.
“And that’s our opening.”
I looked back at the vampire, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths.