The caller ID burned into Gwen’s vision: Colonel Steele. A man who had never called her during leave unless sothing had gone sideways.
She stared at the phone, watching the seconds tick by.
Six minutes until Kaine was scheduled to arrive.
’Answer it and risk losing my only chance to reconnect with soone who actually mattered. Ignore it and risk consequences that could end my career.’
Her finger moved to accept before she could think twice.
"Major Gwen."
"You’re needed at headquarters imdiately. Colonel Jax and Colonel Silas have arrived for an inspection. They’ve specifically requested you."
Gwen’s stomach dropped. Jax and Silas were heavy hitters—the kind who could make or break careers with a word.
"Sir, I’m on authorized leave—"
"Not anymore. Report now. This is not a request."
The line went dead.
’Fuck.’
7:54 AM. Four minutes until Kaine arrived, and she was being ordered to headquarters imdiately.
She made her decision with cold calculation. The military summons took priority—she could reschedule with Kaine, but she couldn’t ignore direct orders without facing consequences that would destroy her career.
Gwen grabbed her portfolio and left the coffee shop. She flagged down a taxi.
"Shadow Guard headquarters. There’s an extra twenty if you can get there in fifteen minutes."
The driver glanced at her in the mirror, taking in her bearing. "You military?"
"Sothing like that."
"Hold on then."
---
The elevator carried her to the third floor. She could hear voices from Steele’s office before she reached it—the kind of conversation that suggested senior officers discussing life-and-death decisions.
Colonel Steele stood behind his desk, tension written across his face. Two visiting officers were positioned near the window.
Colonel Bernice Jax was exactly what Gwen expected—late thirties, athletic, with alert intelligence that marked soone who’d survived encounters with things that treated human life as expendable. Her civilian clothes suggested this was unofficial rather than formal inspection.
Colonel Benedict Silas was older, refined, with diplomatic bearing that suggested intelligence operations. Gray hair precisely styled, expensive but understated clothes, pale eyes that analyzed everything.
"Major Gwen," Steele said as she entered. "Thank you for responding quickly."
"Sir. I understand you requested my presence."
"We’ve been reviewing your recent reports," Jax said, stepping forward. "Particularly your engagent with the Level 3 vampire nest in the industrial district."
"Standard nest elimination. Three confird kills."
"We’re here because your record represents exactly the expertise we need for an upcoming assignnt," Silas continued. "Sothing requiring both combat experience and the ability to work independently in civilian environnts."
Despite her frustration about the interrupted eting, Gwen felt her attention sharpen. High-level assignnts ant significant responsibility and potential career advancent.
"What kind of assignnt?"
"Intelligence gathering and potential combat operations in an urban environnt," Jax replied. "We’ve received reports of unusual supernatural activity—not routine vampire nests or demon cults, but organized supernatural elents with significant resources."
"The preliminary intelligence suggests entities that have integrated into legitimate business and social structures," Silas added. "This requires soone who can operate in civilian environnts while maintaining cover and gathering intelligence on targets with extensive human resources and political connections."
Gwen glanced at her phone—8:15 AM. Kaine had been waiting fifteen minutes, and she had no way to contact him without revealing her actual identity.
’He’s probably already left, thinking Sarah Morgan is just another flaky civilian.’
"Major," Jax said, noticing her distraction, "is there sothing else requiring your attention?"
"No, ma’am. I’m fully available."
The conversation continued for twenty minutes, covering tilines, resources, and bureaucratic details. When the colonels concluded their briefing, Gwen found herself committed to a new assignnt requiring her full attention for the foreseeable future.
She left headquarters with professional satisfaction mixed with personal frustration, already calculating how to salvage the situation with Kaine while maintaining her military obligations.
The taxi ride back gave her ti to compose an explanation that would preserve her civilian cover. She pulled out her phone and dialed.
"Mr. Cross? This is Sarah Morgan. I’m calling to apologize for missing our eting this morning."
---
Kaine Cross stood outside ridian Grounds at exactly 8:00 AM, his senses automatically cataloging the morning environnt for threats.
The coffee shop buzzed with the usual crowd—professionals grabbing caffeine, students claiming study tables, business etings over expensive beverages.
He’d cleaned up from the night’s activities, trading torn and bloodstained clothing for a dark jacket and jeans that looked civilian but allowed full movent. His appearance suggested private security or law enforcent—professional but not threatening.
Marcus stood fifteen feet away, positioned to observe both the entrance and surrounding street. The Ghoul’s pale eyes tracked pedestrian movent with chanical precision.
’Sarah Morgan said blue jacket, brown leather portfolio. Should be easy to spot.’
Kaine entered and surveyed the interior. No blue jacket. No brown portfolio. No one waiting for a private investigator.
’Eight-fifteen. Fifteen minutes late. Could be traffic, could be sothing more complicated.’
His phone rang at 8:18. Sarah Morgan’s number.
"Kaine Cross."
"Mr. Cross? This is Sarah Morgan. I’m calling to apologize for missing our eting."
Her voice carried genuine distress mixed with professional embarrassnt—legitimate circumstances rather than deliberate deception. But beneath that, Kaine’s enhanced senses picked up controlled tension suggesting soone managing multiple priorities.
"What happened?"
"Sothing urgent ca up—a family ergency requiring my imdiate attention. I know this is unprofessional."
"I appreciate you calling. When were you thinking of rescheduling?"
"I’m already on my way back. I know it’s another imposition, but I’m genuinely worried about my friend, and I don’t want to delay getting help."
"That could work. Just—"
His attention snapped to the street as his supernatural senses detected sothing that made his blood turn cold.
A black sedan moved slowly through morning traffic, occupants invisible behind tinted windows. But the supernatural aura radiating from the vehicle was unlike anything he’d encountered in twelve years of hunting vampires.
[DEATH SIGHT - EXTRE THREAT DETECTED]
[CLASSIFICATION: VAMPIRE - ORIGIN CLASS UNKNOWN]
[POWER LEVEL: UNKNOWN]
The information painted across his vision should have been impossible. Vampires above third generation were extrely rare, and anything approaching Original status was supposed to be theoretical.
But the aura from the sedan’s interior was old, powerful, radiating predatory awareness that marked sothing perfecting the art of hunting humans for centuries.
’What the hell is that thing doing driving through morning traffic?’
Kaine moved toward the entrance. The sedan proceeded slowly through the intersection, movent suggesting systematic patrol rather than routine transportation.
"Ms. Morgan," he said into the phone, voice carrying distracted attention, "I’m sorry, but I need to handle sothing else right now. I’ll call you back to confirm rescheduling."
"Mr. Cross, wait—"
He ended the call and stepped outside, enhanced senses tracking the sedan’s progress. The vehicle moved with deliberate precision, occupants conducting what appeared to be active surveillance.
’Either that thing is hunting soone specific, or it’s reconnaissance for sothing larger. Either way, I need to know what it’s doing in my territory.’
Reviews
All reviews (0)