Kaine’s phone buzzed as he and Marcus descended the fire escape. Gwen’s na lit up the screen.
"Hey," he answered, dropping silently to the alley below.
"Where are you? I can hear wind. Are you out on patrol?"
"Just getting so air on the roof. Can’t sleep." The lie ca easily. "Why?"
"Thought I might tag along tonight. I’m bored that’s all,"
"Not tonight, Patricia. I’m staying in. Need to process everything that happened."
"Are you sure? I could use the distraction."
"Trust , you need rest more than distraction. Get so sleep."
A pause. "Alright. But tomorrow night, I’m coming with you whether you like it or not."
"We’ll see."
He ended the call and pocketed the phone. Marcus stood waiting, his pale eyes reflecting the streetlight.
"Let’s go," Kaine said. "Ti to track down our wayward family mber."
Kaine was going to go back to where this all started. The cetery.
"To solve a case, you have to go back to the scene where it happened," he said while hopping across roof tops with Marcus.
The cetery was different at night. Police tape fluttered in the breeze, yellow plastic barriers marking where the bodies had been found. The van was gone, towed away by the authorities. Even the blood had been cleaned up, leaving only faint stains on the concrete.
"They work fast," Kaine muttered, ducking under the tape.
He moved thodically through the scene, searching for anything the police might have missed. Marcus followed silently, his head tilted as if listening for sothing only he could hear.
"You know," Kaine said, examining the ground where Chad had fallen, "since we’re family now, I should probably tell you about mine. The one I grew up with."
Marcus looked at him with those unsettling pale eyes.
"Don’t worry, you don’t have to respond. Actually, I prefer it this way. People always want to one-up your trauma, you know? ’Oh, you think your dad was bad? Let tell you about mine.’" He crouched beside a headstone, running his fingers along the base. "Gets exhausting."
Nothing there. He moved to the next grave marker.
"My old man was what you’d call a functional alcoholic. Held down a job, paid the bills, never missed a day of work. But the mont he got ho..." Kaine paused, examining sothing caught between two stone slabs. "Well, let’s just say he had opinions about everything. Loud opinions. With his fists."
A piece of fabric. Black tactical material, torn and bloody. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. There was sothing else—a small tal object wedged deeper in the crack.
"Mom wasn’t much better. She’d disappear for days at a ti, leave to deal with dear old dad’s moods. When she did co back, she’d act like nothing happened. Like I was being dramatic about the bruises."
He worked the object free with his knife tip. A key. House key, by the look of it, with a small plastic tag attached. The tag was partially torn, but he could make out part of an address: "1247 Maple—"
"Got you," he whispered.
Marcus moved closer, studying the key.
"Chad’s house key," Kaine explained. "Must have fallen out when I threw him around. The police missed it because it fell between the stones."
He stood, pocketing the key. "The thing about growing up in a house like that is you learn to read people. Every micro-expression, every change in tone. Your survival depends on knowing when to hide, when to run, when to—"
A sound made him stop. Footsteps on gravel, moving toward the cetery entrance.
"Security guard," he said quietly. "Ti to go."
They left the way they ca, scaling the cetery wall and disappearing into the night. The address on the key led them across town to a quiet residential neighborhood. Single-family hos with small yards, the kind of place where people knew their neighbors and kids rode bikes in the street.
"1247 Maple Street," Kaine read from the mailbox.
The house was a modest two-story with vinyl siding and a small front porch. Light spilled from the living room windows, and through the gauze curtains, they could see movent inside.
Kaine positioned himself behind a parked car across the street, Marcus crouching beside him like a pale shadow.
"We’re looking for Chad," he said quietly. "But sothing tells he’s not here."
Through the window, they could see a woman pacing back and forth. She was in her thirties, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a simple blue dress. Even from a distance, her distress was obvious—the way she held her arms wrapped around herself, the jerky movents of soone barely holding it together.
"His wife," Kaine said.
The woman answered her phone, and they watched her conversation through the window. Her free hand covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking. When she hung up, she sank onto the couch and buried her face in her hands.
"She knows," Marcus," Kaine said. "Soone told her about last night."
But as they watched, sothing else beca clear. The woman wasn’t just grieving—she was terrified. She kept looking toward the windows, toward the front door, as if expecting sothing to co through them.
"She’s not just mourning him," Kaine realized. "She’s afraid of him."
A car pulled into the driveway. Two people got out—a man and woman in dark suits. Shadow Guard, judging by their bearing. They approached the front door with sympathy, the kind of gentle authority that ca with delivering bad news.
"Death notification," Kaine said. "They’re telling her he’s dead."
They watched the shadow guard operatives enter the house. Through the window, they could see the woman’s reaction—shock, denial, then a collapse into grief that looked genuine. But underneath it all, Kaine caught sothing else. Relief.
"Our wayward kid isn’t here," he said finally. "And I don’t think he’s coming back."
Marcus tilted his head questioningly.
"Look at her. She’s scared, but she’s also relieved. My guess is Chad wasn’t the model husband at ho either. The Shadow Guard thing was probably just another way for him to hurt people."
They watched for another few minutes, but it was clear Chad wasn’t coming ho. Whatever he’d beco, whatever he was doing, it wasn’t here.
"Co on," Kaine said. "Let’s go."
As they walked away from the house, Kaine felt the weight of responsibility settling heavier on his shoulders. He’d turned that woman into a widow, left her to wonder what had really happened to her husband. The Shadow Guard would tell her he died fighting vampires, a hero’s death. They’d never know the truth.
"They shouldn’t have attacked ," he said, trying to convince himself. "I was just trying to help Marcus. They shot first."
But the words felt hollow. He’d made choices that led to this mont, and now a woman was sitting in her living room crying over a man who wasn’t even really dead.
"Fuck," he muttered. "This is on ."
Marcus made no sound, but sohow his silence felt like agreent.
They walked back through the quiet streets, past houses full of sleeping families who had no idea what monsters walked among them. The normalcy of it all made Kaine’s double life feel even more surreal.
"I should finish telling you about my family," he said as they neared their building. "Since we’re stuck with each other now."
But before he could continue, he spotted a familiar figure standing near the building entrance. Mrs. Kowalski, the landlady, was watering the plants in the small flower bed by the front door. At nearly midnight.
"Shit," Kaine muttered.
She looked up as they approached, a bright smile crossing her weathered face.
"Kaine! Out for a late walk?"
"Sothing like that, Mrs. Kowalski."
"And Marcus! You’re looking much better, dear. More color in your cheeks."
Marcus looked at her without a word, his pale eyes fixed on her face.
"I was just thinking," she continued, setting down her watering can. "You boys work such odd hours. If you ever need anything—groceries, mail held, soone to water your plants—you just let know."
"My rent’s paid up, right?" Kaine asked. "I don’t want to do this now, Mrs. Kowalski."
"Oh, of course! I wasn’t suggesting—" She looked hurt. "I just ant as a neighbor. A friend."
"I know. Sorry. Long night."
"Of course, dear. You get so rest."
They headed for the elevator, but as they reached the third floor, Kaine stopped. Two figures stood outside his apartnt door—one leaning against the wall, the other standing nearby in what looked like an awkward conversation.
Gwen and Rebecca.
"What the hell?" Kaine muttered.
Rebecca was rubbing the back of her neck, a nervous gesture he’d noticed before. Gwen stood with her arms crossed, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else.
"—really don’t know when he’ll be back," Rebecca was saying.
"I can wait," Gwen replied. "It’s important."
Both won turned as Kaine and Marcus approached. Rebecca’s face lit up with obvious relief, while Gwen’s expression remained carefully neutral.
"Kaine!" Rebecca said. "Thank god. Your friend here has been waiting for over an hour."
"Friend? How did you even find my.... never mind," Kaine looked between them.
"I’m Patricia," Gwen said simply while looking at Rebecca, "We need to talk."
"About what?"
"Work stuff. It can’t wait."
Rebecca looked between them, clearly sensing undercurrents she didn’t understand. "I was just trying to be helpful. She seed really worried about you."
"I thought you were staying in tonight," Gwen said, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"I was. Marcus needed so air."
"In the middle of the night?" She asked.
"He’s not great with crowds."
The silence stretched awkwardly. Marcus stood motionless beside Kaine, his pale eyes moving between the two won like he was watching a tennis match.
"Well," Rebecca said finally. "I should probably let you two talk. Work stuff, right?"
"Rebecca, wait—"
"It’s fine," she said, but her smile was strained. "I’m sure it’s important."
She headed toward her apartnt, pausing at her door. "Maybe we can finish our conversation tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Kaine said. "Tomorrow."
She disappeared inside, leaving Kaine standing in the hallway with Gwen and Marcus.
"So," Gwen said. "Want to tell what’s really going on?"
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