Tara and Vincent approached the port under the cover of night. The moon reigned over the skies, but it offered them little comfort; it was merely an inconvenience. The person who would have been hindered by it was captured, after all.

  "How many are there?" Vincent asked.

  "Too many?" Tara answered without hesitation.

  Vincent clicked his tongue.

  "There's no such thing as 'too many.' We have to do this. One way or another, we'll kill these sons of bitches. And we'll save everyone we can."

  By "people," he meant both humans, like himself, and vampires, like Ayame. Though he doubted they had anyone else locked up besides her. That went without saying. Despite their differences, they belonged to the human race. He didn't care how many people seemed not to understand that.

  "Easier said than done," Tara said. "But yeah, we'll manage."

  "Are you up for this?" Vincent asked, glancing at her. Her face was covered in sweat, her shoulders trembling slightly. "If you're not, I can go on alone. It's fine."

  "I'm not letting you do this alone. We're a team. Besides, what good would it do me to stay here in the middle of the night doing nothing? That won't improve my condition. Quite the opposite."

  Well, he couldn't argue with that. So Vincent simply nodded and, crouching low, aided by the shadows of the night, he drew closer to the port. Ayame was here, no doubt about it. And, without a doubt, she was fine. Ayame was strong. Holy water or not, she would have already recovered. And maybe she was in the process of rescuing herself.

  Besides, he had a completely unfounded certainty that if anything had happened to her, he would have known. It was stupid, and he'd never tell anyone, but he still believed it with the same certainty he believed in the sunrise. That is, there was no need to believe in anything. It was common sense.

  I hope I'm not wrong, he thought.

  Thinking more of her than of his own movements, he dragged the nearest guard into the shadows and slit his throat. The darkness swallowed even his gurgles of protest. One down, a ton to go. Well, it was too soon to celebrate anything, after all.

  His breathing was already like that of an agitated animal. Think, take a deep breath. If he didn't control it, it would give away his position more surely than the sound of footsteps where there shouldn't be any. Everything would be fine if one of them slipped up. He needed to kill two at once to stay hidden. Anything else... Tara would be up there, covering his back. He was in no position to press his luck, but he thought it anyway. What could go wrong?

  It wasn't his fault that he had absolute faith in his team, despite the relatively short time that had passed. After all, they had earned it. Vincent moved deeper into the port. He couldn't say "he moved deeper into the darkness" because the moonlight reflected brightly off the black sea and illuminated the surroundings. Watch her, he thought, even as he drove his sword through the back of the unfortunate son of a bitch's head, the blade and a gush of blood erupting grotesquely from his mouth before he pulled the weapon out and gave the body a little kick, sending it to the ground. The noise didn't attract the attention of anyone present, if anyone had even heard it.

  Good, one more crossed off the list. He had to use stealth as much as he could, because there were simply too many for two kids. Stealth was of vital importance. He couldn't act as if taking out just a couple of soldiers was some kind of victory. It wasn't. It was just the beginning.

  Vincent crouched, taking cover behind a barrel. Two guards were having a conversation about whatever the fuck. He didn't even listen. The point was, it didn't feel like they were going to stop, or split up. He could technically kill two people with one sword, but he'd feel safer if he called her. So he did. He gave her the signal they had agreed upon. Incredible that she could see him from so far away, just like that. She might not be aiming for his target, of course, so all he could do was trust her.

  One, two, three, four, five. Five seconds and the whiz of an arrow cut through the frigid night air. A delayed groan as the arrow embedded itself in the man's eye, sinking into his skull. Vincent executed the last one before he could raise the alarm. And, of course, he delivered them to the ocean's embrace as well.

  "Who goes there?"

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  His heart raced. This time, someone had been drawn by the strange sound of not one, but two splashes. Not only was the sound of a splash strange, but this time there had been two. It wasn't hard to take care of him, though. Nothing more than a small stone in his path. It wasn't a matter of the right time or place. He knew this wouldn't keep him up at night and, he supposed, there was nothing wrong with that. His top priority was, of course, finding Ayame. Not freeing every possible person in the port, nor killing every possible person. Simple, but some people would forget, losing sight of the goal. He never would.

  Another corner turned, another obstacle in his path, his back to him. Fortunately. In fact, he was surprised they hadn't detected him yet, with or without Tara's help.

  This will be easy, too, he thought, approaching his prey in a crouch, sword held in one hand, millimeters from grazing the ground so as not to make a sound.

  And it was easy. It was, completely naturally, as if he'd been doing it since birth. He dragged him into deeper shadows and plunged the sword into his neck. He used his free hand, of course, to cover his mouth, stifling his pained moans. He weathered his feeble efforts to escape, though the man should have already considered himself dead. He contemplated throwing him into the sea, like the others, but concluded that he was pushing his luck too much. Sooner or later, the splashes would reveal his position.

  He found a crate nearby, opened it, and tossed the body inside. There was nothing but weapons inside. To be honest, he had expected to find a person, maybe another body. He even breathed a little easier as he closed the lid. The worst was always your imagination, or so he hoped.

  If they were only planning to sell the exotic merchandise called a lady vampire, that was one thing. But if they intended to "train" her before they could sell her, if they were torturing her... well, then everything was different.

  Vincent might be a village boy, but he was no fool. Even if he was physically capable of killing all the soldiers, the thugs covering the perimeter in stealth, he couldn't do it. There was an invisible countdown. The point was to thin their numbers. And the more he delayed, even out of caution, the more likely it became that he would be too late. Too late for when a line had been crossed from which there was no return. Just thinking about it made him want to vomit.

  Fucking field study. Fucking Verona. Fucking piece-of-shit school.

  Two more fell, synchronizing perfectly with Tara. He hid the bodies in crates or behind a corner. Like he'd said, he had no time to waste. He was heading for a specific building in the middle of the port. He didn't think that bastard had been lying five seconds before he slit his throat.

  Once inside, Tara wouldn't be able to help him. There was no position from which she could shoot without being seen. Too far or too close. Think, take a deep breath, he told himself. But he wouldn't be alone. Ayame would be there. And she had to be okay. He had to have made it in time. Once he grabbed her and got out, Tara would cover their backs as they fled. They didn't need to eradicate the Red Scars to win the fight. They just had to escape with their lives. Priorities.

  He didn't kill the guards at the entrance. Instead, Vincent looked for another way in, slipping through a window. He could be subtle. Even more subtle, that is, when he wanted to be. And the fact that he could apparently kill without batting an eye didn't mean he had to do it all the time.

  He didn't have to find Ayame. The voices. Because of them, he went straight for her.

  After kicking her in the head. After pressing her against the floor. After making her spit blood. Jonah pulled back, still trembling with rage.

  "Who the hell do you think you are, you fucking bitch? A vampire princess? You think your shit smells like roses? You think no one can touch you? I can do whatever the hell I want with you. And I will. I will. But I'm going to enjoy tearing that arrogance out of you, piece by piece. It's always a pleasure to train a woman who doesn't know how to act like one."

  Her head was spinning. Her vision was darkening at the edges. And at that horrible promise, Ayame simply smiled, her mouth full and her teeth stained with blood. Mostly her own. She smiled as if nothing was wrong. Because nothing was.

  "What's so funny? Ah!"

  Vincent's blade, forged with his own hands, sank into the son of a bitch's neck. Unfortunately, he didn't manage to take his head off, but he made him scream, made him bleed. And he barely managed to escape, with his tail between his legs. Never a more fitting phrase.

  "Ah! You must be the knight."

  His attempts to sound dignified and threatening failed miserably, with his pants down to his knees. He covered himself as quickly as he could, but it didn't matter. The damage was already done.

  Yes, it is, she thought, in more ways than one.

  "Yes, I am," Vincent replied without hesitation.

  He couldn't have been there for long. He hadn't heard the conversation. Yet, he answered without a second thought, proclaiming himself her knight. Wasn't this what she had wanted from the beginning? Someone to protect her instead of suffocating her.

  "I must admit, you've got guts, coming here alone. But it won't get you a happy ending, or the girl. You're just going to die, boy. I'll tear you to pieces with my bare hands."

  Vincent looked somewhat confused, and Ayame wasn't the only one who noticed.

  "What's wrong? Did you think I'd start screaming? That I'd beg my reinforcements to save my life? I didn't get this far by begging. I'm well aware of my own capabilities. You're going to die here."

  "You might be aware of your capabilities, but not of mine. And that's what matters."

  "You're nothing but a brat who hasn't even left an academy yet. The difference in our experience is too great."

  "And yet, I'm a killer, just like you. Stop underestimating me. I won't enjoy making you scream otherwise."

  She should applaud, feel euphoric, and offer to help him. But the truth was, she was just worried. That he didn't sound like himself. Still, priorities. Everything would go back to normal once the bastard was dead and they were back in Runehaven. Ayame got to her feet.