The night outside the cave was so silent it felt unnatural. Lucien’s gaze stayed fixed on the narrow opening as snow drifted in pale sheets, masking the trail they had left hours earlier.

Seraphina tightened her grip on her dagger. “Who was it?” she asked quietly.

Lucien shook his head. “Not human. Their steps were too light.”

Her stomach tightened. “Vampires?”

“No,” he said after a pause. “Something else.”

The words did not comfort her.

They waited for several minutes, the only sound the low hiss of the fire. Then Lucien stood, his decision made. “We can’t stay here. If they’ve found our trail once, they’ll find it again.”

Seraphina glanced at the sleeping girl the child they had risked their lives to pull from the streets two nights ago and felt her chest tighten. The girl had barely eaten, barely spoken. They couldn’t force her into another freezing march.

“She won’t make it far tonight,” Seraphina said.

Lucien’s jaw flexed. “Then we make her.”

She rose, stepping into his space. “She’s not one of us. She doesn’t have the strength to”

“I know what she doesn’t have,” he cut in, his voice low but edged with urgency. “I also know what will happen to her if we stay here until dawn.”

Seraphina hated that he was right. The tension between them hadn’t cooled since the moment by the fire if anything, it made the air between them sharper, more charged. She wanted to push back, to argue, but there wasn’t time.

“Fine,” she said, shouldering her pack. “Then we move.”

Lucien crouched, wrapping the girl in his coat before lifting her effortlessly into his arms. Seraphina felt a pang of something — not jealousy, but a strange ache at the gentleness in his touch.

They left the cave without another word, the snow crunching under their boots. The moon hung low, veiled by clouds, casting the world in dim, silvery light.

They moved quickly, weaving between jagged outcroppings of rock. Every sound seemed amplified the wind moaning through the stones, the faint snap of ice underfoot.

Half an hour later, Lucien stopped abruptly, his head tilting. Seraphina froze, straining to hear.

A faint sound carried through the wind. Footsteps.

Not behind them ahead.

Lucien set the girl down carefully, motioning for silence. His hand went to the sword at his hip. Seraphina’s heartbeat picked up as she drew her dagger, crouching low.

The sound grew clearer: not one set of footsteps, but several. Whoever they were, they were moving fast — and they were close.

Lucien glanced at her. No words passed between them, but the look was enough: we flank them.

They split without sound, moving through the rocks until they had the narrow pass ahead surrounded.

The first figure emerged a moment later. Tall. Hooded. Moving with inhuman grace. Two more followed, their faces pale in the moonlight.

Vampires.

Seraphina’s breath slowed. She’d fought their kind before but never three at once without backup.

Lucien didn’t wait for them to notice him. He struck first. His blade flashed, catching the first vampire across the chest. It hissed, staggering back, but the others surged forward with impossible speed.

Seraphina darted from behind, her dagger finding the space beneath one’s ribs. It screamed, twisting to strike her, but she rolled clear, coming up in a crouch.

Lucien was a blur steel meeting claw, his movements precise and deadly. But the vampires weren’t slowing. One broke past him, lunging straight for the girl.

Seraphina’s blood went cold.

She threw herself into its path, their bodies colliding hard. Fangs snapped inches from her face as she wrestled it back, her dagger scraping bone. It fought like a cornered animal, but she drove the blade deeper until it went still.

When she looked up, Lucien was finishing the last of them, his sword dripping dark ichor into the snow.

The wind howled again, and the sudden silence that followed was deafening.

Lucien met her gaze, chest heaving. “You’re bleeding,” he said, his voice low.

She glanced down. A shallow slash along her arm. “It’s nothing.”

He crossed the distance in three strides, his hand closing gently over her wrist. He examined the wound, his thumb brushing warm against her skin. The contact made her pulse jump in a way that had nothing to do with the fight.

“You need it cleaned,” he said, his tone softer now.

She wanted to tell him she could handle it herself, but the way his eyes lingered on her face made her words falter.

The girl stirred weakly behind them, drawing Lucien’s attention back to the danger they were still in. He released her wrist reluctantly. “We keep moving. There’s a hunter’s cabin two miles north.”

Seraphina nodded, but as they started walking, she couldn’t shake the memory of his hand on her, or the heat in his eyes when he’d looked at her. The night was still cold, still dangerous but something between them had shifted again, narrowing in just like the hunt.

They moved north through the snow, the child in Lucien’s arms and Seraphina watching their flank. The scent of blood lingered in the air theirs and the vampires’ a faint metallic thread carried on the wind. It would draw attention if they didn’t put distance between themselves and the pass.

Lucien’s voice was low, almost lost to the sound of crunching snow. “They weren’t just hunting for blood. They were tracking her.” He shifted his hold on the girl. “Someone has put a price on this child.”

Seraphina frowned. “She’s barely ten. What could they want with her?”

Lucien’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer. That told her more than words could.

The trail ahead narrowed, forcing them between two sheer walls of ice. Seraphina’s hand brushed the rough surface, her eyes scanning for movement. The cliffs funneled the wind into a wail that set her teeth on edge.

Halfway through, she caught it movement, a shadow shifting above them. Her dagger was in her hand before she had time to think. “Above,” she warned.

Lucien spun, just as another vampire dropped from the ridge. It landed in the snow with barely a sound, lips curling back to reveal its fangs.

This one was different. Taller, broader, and armed with a curved blade darkened with age. It didn’t lunge straight away; it circled, measuring them.

“Go,” Lucien said to Seraphina without looking at her. “Take the girl.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she shot back, planting her feet.

The vampire moved first, swinging its blade in a vicious arc. Lucien met it with steel, the impact ringing through the narrow pass. Sparks danced in the air.

Seraphina darted in low, aiming for its legs, but it was fast unnervingly so twisting away before her blade could connect.

It turned on her with a speed that stole her breath. Lucien was there, intercepting its strike, shoving it back against the wall of ice. The vampire snarled, its blade scraping Lucien’s as they fought for control.

The moment stretched, all sound drowned out by the clash of steel and the pounding of her heart.

Then Lucien shifted his weight, forcing the vampire’s blade down and driving his sword up beneath its ribs. The creature convulsed, a choked hiss escaping before it slumped to the ground, motionless.

The only sound after was the ragged draw of their breathing.

Lucien stepped back, wiping the blade clean on the snow. His eyes found hers, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

“You should have gone,” he said.

“And missed watching you nearly get your throat opened? Not a chance,” she replied.

There was no smile, but something softened in his expression. He looked away first, bending to check the girl.

“We’re close to the cabin,” he said finally. “You’ll get warm there.”

She fell into step beside him, her fingers brushing against his briefly as they walked. Neither of them pulled away, even when the path widened again.

The snow began to fall harder, softening the edges of the world. Somewhere beyond the trees, the promise of shelter waited but so did whatever had sent the vampires after them in the first place.

And Seraphina had the feeling that when they reached it, the real hunt would begin.