Lily walked beside me, hands deep in the pockets of her hoodie, still looking too damn pleased with herself after feeding (and after watching me take someone’s money to steal their powers). She practically radiated smugness; her smirk was sharp enough to cut.

  I focused on the pavement, on the stretch of empty park ahead, on literally anything but her. Because if I let myself think about it—about her, about what just happened—I'd have to acknowledge the fact that I found her feeding both repulsive and alluring.

  Lily, of course, was determined to make me suffer. To rake me over the emotional coals and roast me until I crisped.

  “Wow,” she mused, stretching her arms above her head in a lazy, catlike motion. “Look at you, Big Guy. Stealing hearts and souls left and right.”

  I rolled my eyes, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Shut up.”

  She grinned. “Ooooh, touched a nerve.”

  “Lily.”

  She ignored the warning in my voice, still sauntering beside me, casual as ever. But then, her smirk twisted, a new edge creeping into her tone. “So. You’ve forgiven Eury, huh?”

  I tensed. “I didn’t say that.”

  Lily let out a low, knowing hum. “You don’t have to. You’re not mad at her anymore.” She gave me a sideways look, green eyes bright in the dim light. “But you’re still pissed at me.”

  I exhaled sharply. “That’s different.”

  Her brow arched. “Oh? Is it?”

  I stopped walking.

  So did she.

  Her expression was unreadable now—still playful, but with something sharper lurking beneath.

  “Eury fed on someone else. That’s why you were mad,” she said, almost clinically. “Not because she feeds. Just because she didn’t pick you.” Her voice remained calm, but her fingers curled tighter into the sleeves of her hoodie. “And yet, here I am. Not allowed to be forgiven. Even though I do the same thing. Because I don’t get the luxury of skipping a meal.”

  I looked away.

  She took a step closer, voice dropping lower. “God, it must be nice, huh? To wake up and eat a donut and not worry about anything else. To never have to think about what you are. What you need.”

  Her laugh was dry. “How dare we need. How dare we take what’s offered.”

  I had nothing to say to that.

  She stepped into my space. “You judge us. Even when it’s non-lethal. Even when it’s consensual. So tell me, Danny—what makes you better?”

  I gritted my teeth. “I don’t take from people.”

  Her lips curled. “No? What do you think you’re doing with your little hustle, then? You’re not feeding for survival. You’re feeding to fill your wallet.” Her head tilted. “Who’s worse?”

  I exhaled slowly. “We’re not doing this right now.”

  Lily held my gaze. Something flickered behind her eyes—hurt, maybe. Frustration. Then she pulled it back behind her usual grin.

  “Fine, fine. Whatever you say, Big Guy.” She rocked on her heels. “But since we are doing reckless things tonight…”

  She nudged me.

  I frowned. “What.”

  “Let’s try something.” She batted her eyes at me, playing coy and bashful, neither of which she actually was, unless it benefited her.

  “I already don’t like this game.”

  She ignored me. “Your whole anti-magic mojo. Let’s see if you can actually control it.”

  I stopped.

  She grinned.

  “Lily.”

  “Oh, come on.” She wiggled her fingers at me. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “I could hurt you.”

  She scoffed. “Pfft. I’ll be fine.” Then—before I could react—she pinched my side.

  I flinched back. “Lily—”

  “See? Nothing happened.” She grinned wider. “Maybe you just don’t know how to use it. Maybe it only works when you’re pissed.”

  I exhaled through my nose, already regretting everything.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Then she flicked my forehead.

  I scowled. “Stop—”

  “Boop.” Right on the nose.

  I twitched.

  Her smirk widened. The red hair made the devilish smile even worse. “Ohhh, you hate that, don’t you?”

  She poked my shoulder. “Boop.”

  “Lily—”

  She leaned in close, eyes flickering closed behind long lashes, a waft of cinnamon and lust preceding her. “Maybe if I kiss you instead—”

  And that was it. That was the last damn straw. The air shifted. A pulse of something unseen, something I still didn’t fully understand. It rolled off me in an invisible wave, like stepping into the eye of a storm.

  Lily gasped like I’d just gut punched her. She staggered, one hand flying to her chest as her knees gave out.

  Her whole body shuddered—a flicker of magic, then nothing.

  “Oh. Okay. That was—” She swayed on her feet, looking as if she might keel over.

  The flicker in her eyes said it all—shock, confusion, a thin edge of pain.

  “Lily—” I caught her before she hit the ground, one arm wrapping around her back, the other steadying her wrist as it trembled against my chest. She wasn’t unconscious—just off, like her balance had been snatched away along with everything else.

  “I’m okay,” she muttered, though she sounded far from it. Her breath was shallow. “Just—dizzy. Like someone pulled the plug… That’s all.”

  Her legs folded again, and I guided her toward the closest bench, easing her down with more care than I’d ever admit.

  She blinked slowly, eyes unfocused, and then laughed—dry and quiet.

  “Well... guess we found your trigger.” She smirked, but it was pale and paper-thin. “Boop.”

  I didn’t laugh. I couldn’t.

  Because I felt it. That weight in my gut. The guilt, the heat behind my eyes. The knowledge that I’d stripped something out of her—yanked it from the root—and now she was sitting here, shaking like a leaf.

  “I didn’t mean to,” I said. It came out quieter than I’d intended.

  “Yeah. I know that.” Her smile softened, and for a second, her fingers gripped mine. “But it worked, right? That’s a good thing. Now we know how to start practicing this on purpose.”

  I looked at her. Really looked.

  Pale skin. Tensed jaw. Sweat forming at her temple even though the night was cool. Vulnerable.

  “You were trying to piss me off,” I said.

  “Well, yeah,” she said with a raspy chuckle. “I didn’t expect the atom bomb version, but—”

  “No.” I cut her off gently. “You were trying to prove something. To me.”

  Her lips parted, and she looked away. She didn’t deny it.

  “I don’t see you as a monster,” I said.

  “You don’t say it,” she replied. “But I see the way you flinch when we talk about feeding. I see the way you look at Eury now. Like she disappointed you. Like she dirtied something precious, that image you have of us in your mind, the idealization. You want to forgive her because she didn’t lie—but I didn’t lie either. I just exist. That’s all.”

  Her hands curled into fists in her lap.

  “I don’t like having to feed. It’s not sexy, or edgy, or some damn thrill.” Her voice cracked. “But I’m not like Elly, to get by on food and rest. I’m different. If I don’t feed, I die. And all this time I thought maybe… maybe you understood that. But now I’m just some other fanged thing you’re afraid of.”

  I swallowed hard. I didn’t know what to say to that. Because maybe—deep down—I had seen her like that. At least a little.

  She turned her head, lips pressed tight. And then her back went rigid. She wasn’t looking at me anymore. She was looking over my shoulder.

  “What?” I asked, voice barely a breath.

  She didn’t answer, but she stood. Fast.

  Her body tensed, magic flickering instinctively on her fingertips—then sputtering out like a light bulb on its last filament.

  “Shit,” she breathed, because it was too late.

  I turned.

  From the shadows between the trees, they emerged—quiet, sudden, and wrong. Shapes moving like liquid shadows, masks or maybe faces stretched into blank intent. Three, maybe four. Too fast to count.

  And Lily—barely upright, drained, powerless—was the first one they lunged for.

  She didn’t scream. She just shoved me back. Hard.

  The air exploded into motion.

  She shoved me with more strength than I thought she had left.

  “Lily—!”

  Then they were on her.

  I lunged forward—too slow. One of the shapes slammed into her midsection and drove her to the ground like a wrestler gunning for a pin. She hit the dirt hard, grunting, limbs flailing, legs kicking. Two more dropped low, grabbing her arms and legs with practiced precision—coordinated, fast, too fast.

  I reached out instinctively—no plan, no finesse, just white-hot panic.

  “Get the hell off her!”

  The thing nearest me turned—its not-face tilted like a bird assessing prey—just in time to catch my fist square across its jaw. I felt the impact. It didn’t.

  It didn’t even stumble.

  It looked at me.

  And something inside me snapped.

  Not a bone. Not a tendon. Something deeper. Like a switch being flipped at the center of my chest.

  A pressure built behind my eyes, coiling down my spine. My skin buzzed. My hands burned. My breath hitched once—then came the break.

  BOOM.

  The world shook.

  A flash of raw pressure burst from my chest like a cannon blast. The ground cracked beneath my feet. The streetlight above shattered in a hailstorm of sparks and glass. Air warped, humming like a giant struck a tuning fork into the bones of the world.

  Every single one of them staggered.

  Lily’s captors jerked violently—like puppets mid-swing, strings yanked wrong—and two collapsed outright, masks splitting like eggshells. One howled, glitching, twitching, leaking some kind of oily smoke. Even the last one, still clinging to her leg, went limp.

  Across the street, a pair of joggers stumbled and fell, clutching their ears. A man walking a dog dropped the leash and fled. Everything stopped.

  I staggered forward, gasping, vision flickering like a strobe light in my skull.

  Lily was trying to sit up. Barely. Her eyes found mine, wide, unsteady. “Danny,” she rasped. “Behind—”

  The fifth.

  I hadn’t seen it.

  It hadn’t moved—until now.

  A blur of black and violet ripped through the air. It crashed into her like a freight train, grabbed her in one swift, predatory motion, and yanked her off the ground with terrifying grace. One arm slung around her torso, locking her in place.

  “NO—NO!”

  I dove forward, every cell screaming.

  But this one—this thing—wasn’t like the others. It didn’t stumble. It didn’t break. And it didn’t care that I was reaching.

  With a burst of arcane propulsion, it vaulted skyward, clearing the iron fence at the edge of the park in a blink—Lily slung over its shoulder like a rag doll, still thrashing, screaming, but too weak to fight.

  Two of the stunned ones recovered just enough to limp after it, dragging a third behind them. Leaving the other two—broken, twitching, smoking—in the grass like discarded husks.

  They didn’t even try to grab me.

  They didn’t have to.

  They’d gotten what they came for.

  I dropped to my knees, hands trembling. The grass was still torn up from their path, the fence bent from the impact.

  They hadn’t taken me because they couldn’t.

  Because I was too dangerous. Too unstable. Too risky to control.

  But her?

  She was weak. Drained. Vulnerable.

  And they’d taken her like she was nothing.

  Like she was already theirs.

  And it was my fault.