Chapter Two

"What I want to know is how you managed to get the council's approval."

Stan folds his arms across his chest, fingers tapping against the weathered material of his black jacket.

"They denied us at first," I say, pushing aside the final remnants of my lukewarm coffee. "The council didn't want any guardians putting their lives in danger unless there was an active threat. You know the code."

As guardians, we are taught only to engage Strigoi if it is absolutely necessary.

Pursuing them posed too high of a risk and was considered a waste of resources because more often than not, the Strigoi won. Going on the offensive was vehemently discouraged in our ranks as a result. It's why Mikhail had been allocated to the archives as punishment. The message was clear. They come first.

And under normal circumstances, I would agree.

Who was I to put myself in danger if it meant leaving Lissa unprotected? She had the Royal Guard now but no one could protect her like I could. No one was as invested, as strongly bound by ties ingrained deeper than any guardian vow.

But this time was different.

We had the potential to save countless victims by risking only three guardians. When would we ever get insider intel like this again?

The opportunity sounded too good to be true, the decision obvious. For us, at least. The council needed more convincing.

"What changed?"

"It was St. Vladimir's recovery mission in the caves that sealed the deal."

Stan raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

I nod. "That, and Guardian Belikov made a very convincing argument."

With Guardian Croft as his advocate, Dimitri stood before the council and laid out all the information he had gathered up until that point. Names of Strigoi, their locations, their connections to each other, attack plans, potential targets, all of it.

I pause, thinking back. "He was very thorough."

A betraying warmth builds in my chest as I recall the overwhelming pride I felt that day in the council's chambers. As Lissa's guardian, I was posted along the wall and had witnessed Dimitri's plea firsthand.

He was incredible. Determined, assertive, fiercely passionate. Every bit the formidable man I had moved mountains for.

And if all of that wasn't compelling enough, when asked if he would lead the pursuit when similar circumstances are what led to his awakening in the first place, he said yes without hesitation. Then continued by listing off every student and faculty member we saved that day by going into the caves.

It really resonated with the council to hear the names of their Royal lineages spoken aloud. Conta. Badica. Voda. Zeklos.

Needless to say, Dimitri made it very hard for anyone to vote against us.

"Belikov," Stan breathes.

"That was bold of him," says Emil, impressed.

"Incredibly so," I agree.

Daniel asks, "How many Strigoi have you guys killed so far?"

Before I can answer, he downs the rest of his third espresso shot and I crinkle my nose.

I don't know how anyone can drink so much of the stuff.

"Six. One for every month we've been in operation."

"Wow. That's impressive," he marvels.

"It's an aggressive schedule, that's for sure." Hence, the burnout. "But we have to work quickly or else we run the risk of being found out. They know someone's taking out their key players but haven't figured out who yet and it's only a matter of time."

He hums. "Do you know where you're headed to this month? Assuming you keep the same pace."

"Dallas, Texas."

Emil's eyes widen. "Texas? You're lucky it's not the summertime. The heat down there is near unbearable. Even for us dhampirs."

Stan looks at him incredulously. "When have you been to Texas?"

My eyes dart between the two men, grateful the attention isn't on me for once.

"Before you and I met," Emil answers defensively. "My first charge was a history buff and there was a big battle that happened down there he was interested in."

The two go back and forth and I have to admit, it's amusing to see them rile each other up over nothing. I'm pleased to see I'm not the only one capable of pushing Stan's buttons to the point of his face flushing.

Daniel shakes his head at the pair before leaning in close to me, speaking quietly to avoid disturbing their heated exchange.

"Are you prepared for Alto's class tomorrow?"

The question almost makes me laugh because I must have heard it a million times before but in a different context.

"As much as I can be, I guess," I shrug, though it's not entirely the truth.

Honestly, I haven't decided what I want to talk about yet. There are a lot of options to choose from. Pivotal moments I'd survived as a result of my own abilities or through sheer, dumb luck.

The Dashkovs, Spokane, the attack on St. Vladimir's, Russia, restoring Dimitri, the murder accusation, Strigoi hunting…the list goes on.

Daniel offers some advice. "If it helps, it's often the more personal experiences that make a real difference. Things like high kill counts or pulling off some crazy move and living to tell the tale, while those stories can be educational and are entertaining over a pint, they're dangerous for the novices who have a tendency to glorify things."

"Which is most of them, probably," I note.

"You remember how things were at that age."

I think of Mason in the days leading up to Spokane. "Of course I do."

Daniel quietens and with downcast eyes, he seems to ponder something before he says, "You had a resilience beyond your years, Rose. Everyone around here says so."

"If by resilience you mean a real knack for getting myself into trouble, sure," I tease, but the joke doesn't land.

He's more serious than he's been all night so I wait patiently for him to continue. I'm not sure what he's going to say next but I have a feeling it'll be something important.

"Consider how you felt after your friend died in front of you. Mason Ashford. Or even the Dashkov girl," he implores. "I heard what happened, how it empowered you to work even harder, to focus more on your training. It could have easily sent you down a darker path but it didn't."

Unfavorable feelings of the past threaten to resurface and I bristle.

His face softens slightly. "This lot, they've seen things many novices their age haven't yet. Their classmates and teachers died right in front of them and they were powerless to stop it. It's made most of them more dedicated, as it did you, but not everyone is so strong-minded. Some of them struggle, they're angry."

"Why are you telling me this?"

He straightens up in his chair to discover he's drawn the attention of the entire table and in a rare display of insecurity, he fidgets with the band around his wrist, turning sheepish.

"Guardian Petrov said you'd be assisting with some of our classes and with your speech tomorrow, I just wanted you to keep that in mind." He stands and pushes a button on his watch to silence the quiet alarm trilling. "I'm on duty soon. I should go," he shares dismissively. "I look forward to hearing what you have to say tomorrow, Rose."

And then he's on his way to the front gate for the overnight shift.

Sensing the question on my lips, Emil explains, "He holds you in high regard ever since your final exam performance." Daniel had been with me on the field that day. He was playing my Moroi charge. At the time, he was new to the academy, hired to replenish numbers after the attack. It was one of our very first interactions. "And with the stories we've told about you, he probably wants to pick your brain."

"What for?"

"He's been having a hard time with some of the novices in his afternoon class."

Daniel is an instructor for second-year students.

"Oh?"

"There are a handful of them who believe the age law should never have been vetoed."

I scoff. "Seriously?"

Emil nods. "They think they're ready for their promise marks."

I'd heard the sentiment before, even back when I was a novice, so I can understand feeling like you're prepared enough to enter the field. At that age, it's an easy thing to convince yourself, considering you only have the progress of your peers to compare to…but the age law? The age law was preposterous. It would've killed half of them within the year.

"Are they insane?!" I look at Stan in disbelief.

"Cut them some slack," he defends. "They're just kids. Like Daniel said, they're trying to process what they went through."

"We've seen all kinds of questionable behavior following the attack. The older students have managed well for the most part. It's the younger ones, the ones that were on the lower campus, who have had a hard time."

When I stop to think about it, what they say makes sense. We had all lost things in the attack — things we could never hope to get back — and not everyone deals with trauma in the same way, let alone children. As I'd seen countless times before, some minds healed faster than others and some never healed at all.

Stan grunts. "The school counselors have had their hands full, and they're doing a great job, don't get me wrong, but it can be hard for them to relate."

I frown. "Guardian Petrov never mentioned it." As soon as the words leave my lips, I hear how ridiculous they sound. Why would she?

"She invited you here," Stan offers and we share an extended look. "Maybe that's enough."

After some retrospection, Emil tries to stifle a yawn. "Sorry to be a downer but I've got an early morning. I think it's time I call it a day." He stretches before getting up to leave.

When he's gone, Stan looks at me. "Don't worry too much about it, Hathaway. You already have a lot going on and it's nothing we aren't equipped to handle. You have to remember, Daniel is fairly new to teaching and he's just figuring out his way."

"Maybe there's something I can do. I'll talk to Lissa and we can come up with a plan to better support you guys."

"It's not necessary. We've got it covered." He waves me off. "You're here now. Just do your part. I'll see you tomorrow, Hathaway. Don't be late." With that, he follows Emil's lead to turn in for the night and I am left alone with my thoughts.

I'd only been at the academy for a day and already had a working list of things I wanted to investigate.

I'm like a dog with a bone — I just can't let things go. It's one of my downfalls — or strengths, depending on who you asked.

Before making the trek to my room, I go to dump the rest of my coffee.

In the time we've spent chatting, the hall has cleared out for the night, save for a few stragglers and those who have just come in from the evening shift.

Over the shoulder of a passing guardian, I spot Maria and Callum still seated at their table, chatting over the last slice of cake. She leans in to brush a crumb away from his chin, any former signs of friction dissolved, and if I wasn't so interested in his professional background, the sight would intrigue me for different reasons.

Just leave it alone.

Callum made it pretty clear earlier that he didn't want to talk about his past — at least not with me — and Stan said the academy had things under control.

I remind myself how adamant Lissa had been that I take a few days off.

It's none of my concern and it is not my responsibility.

When has that ever stopped you before?

As my best friend's earlier sentiment fades to black, I feel guilty for not being able to slow down, even when the opportunity is handed to me on a silver platter.

Lost in thought, my gaze lingers for longer than it should and I end up locking eyes with Callum just before making my exit. He gives me a small nod and I decide it's settled.

I haven't given up on figuring him out just yet.

In the privacy of my room, I examine myself in the bathroom mirror before bed.

In the midst of my nightly routine, I stand only in undergarments under the harsh, fluorescent lighting, surveying the scars that marr my skin like the retellings of a story. A story of triumph and defeat, of perseverance and doubt, each blemish signifying a time I cheated death.

Fingers prodding, I tug at the skin around each scratch, puncture, and wound, applying lotion as I go. The most prominent being the one on my chest. Just above my left breast and near the middle of my sternum displays a small splotch of healed skin. The color, lighter than the rest of me, stands out against my almond complexion.

It isn't one I earned from battle. It doesn't look as cool as the others, like the scratches on my arm or the bites on my outer thigh. It's my ugliest scar, for more reasons than one, and I don't wear low cut tops anymore because of it.

Rubbing the spot in tight circles, my focus eventually moves to my nails where the cuticles are overgrown and the beds lay absent of color. I can't remember the last time I got them painted or even had the time to.

Next, I free my hair from the confines of its tie and start brushing out the length with my fingers. The curls are beautiful when freed, and I still consider it one of my best features, though it's a shame I don't wear it down as much as I used to.

One by one, I count the pieces of myself I'd slowly given up. The softness, my feminine side, that used to set me apart in this unforgiving lifestyle, surrendered in only three years' time.

Is this maturing or is this conforming?

One of my favorite things about myself used to be my individuality. I can distinctly remember looking at the more seasoned female guardians, like my mom or Alberta, and thinking, I'm not going to be like that. I wouldn't give up the side of myself that loved doing her makeup and hair everyday in Portland, that painted her nails at sleepovers with Liss.

Now look at me. The only thing left to do is chop all my hair off.

Releasing a heavy sigh, I step away from the reflection to turn off the light and part ways with my growing disappointment.

The smell of the lavender lotion ushers back in the exhaustion of the day and suddenly I feel like I could fall asleep on my feet.

After changing into my pajamas, I open a text from Mikhail. I figure it's time I catch up on those.

M: Please respond to the group chat before I get another phone call.

As I read his message, bubbles pop up that mean he's typing and I snort when I see a crying emoji come through. Since our group chat started six months ago, I've been trying to get everyone to use the little icons more. Mikhail had kindly taken to them. Dimitri? Not so much.

Deciding I better respond before he flips out, I send him a thumbs up and then go to my unread messages.

There's one from Lissa that makes me laugh. It's a meme poking fun at meetings that should have been emails. And then, there's a dozen more from the group chat I insisted on naming, Strigoi Slashers, followed by a dagger emoji, rose emoji, and cowboy emoji.

From this morning,

D: Alchemist reports show an uptick in Strigoi attacks outside of San Antonio.

M: Do you think it's Gregory?

D: The physical description is a match.

M: Why would he leave Dallas?

D: Maybe someone's tipped him off. It looks like he's headed South.

M: Do we have any contacts in the area?

D: None that will be useful. We need to stop him before he reaches the border. If he makes it into Mexico, he's gone.

M: What's the plan?

D: We fly out as soon as Christian and I return to Court. We can't afford to lose him.

M: I'll talk to Croft so he knows to move our schedules around.

D: Let me know if I can be of any assistance. I'll look at flights.

And then hours later,

D: Rose?

If what Dimitri says is true, then our jobs just became ten times harder.

Strigoi who tend to hunt in the same general area are easier to locate because of the evidence they leave behind. It's the nomadic ones who are difficult. Add on the possibility that he may know we're looking for him and we might as well be searching for a ghost.

Honestly, we should've known to expect something like this from a Strigoi like Gregory.

According to Dimitri, he's known as the top dog in the South and has amassed enough of a following to control pretty much the entire state's Strigoi population, which is saying something because Texas is seriously massive.

Taking down someone like him would cause a ripple effect across the entire region and we should've known to expect a real challenge. Things like fear, infighting, and disbandment would run strife. Everything we want and everything we've left in our wake. Another name crossed off the list.

I type up a short response and hit send.

R: Name the time and place. I'll be there.

With the new timeline Dimitri is proposing, I may need to shorten my trip again. I just need to confirm when he and Christian are planning to return from St. Basil's.

But not right now.

A powerful yawn slips out, creating tremors across my entire body.

Discarding my phone, I try not to think about the days ahead and slip under the covers, falling asleep almost instantly.

Guardian Boris Volkov might be the burliest man I have ever laid eyes on.

The combination of his colossal biceps with his angular features and unruly brown beard make him look like a viking — a modern-day viking — and I feel tiny in comparison. Especially when he offers his hand to shake and it almost entirely eclipses mine. Whoa.

He is an instructor at St. Basil's Academy and next in line to become their captain. Before teaching, he was a guardian to a lesser known branch of the Ivashkov family, only moving on after passing a certain age. Though he is older, he looks every bit as capable of knocking anyone on their ass. Not that I'm trying to find out for myself.

He sits on one of the stools to my left, his mammoth frame threatening to compromise the chair's integrity.

Between us is Guardian Agatha Crestman. She's a muscular blonde whose facial features remind me a little bit of Lissa. But with a single streak of hot pink highlight in her hair and a tiny silver stud in her nose, that's where the similarities stop.

As one of two guardians to Melanie Tarus, a young Royal I've heard mentioned on occasion, she is visiting St. Vladimir's from New York City where her charge currently resides.

The stool on my right sits empty and I wonder where Callum must be.

We are taking over the period normally reserved for Stan's course, Bodyguard Theory and Personal Protection. On a typical day, Stan uses the hour to go over defensive strategies and maneuvers but today, the session will serve as a discussion period for the other guardians and I to speak and answer any questions the students may have after.

We sit at the front of the room facing rows of dhampir students whispering among themselves until the period begins. Guardians line the wall to supervise the class and I spy a few familiar faces seated in the last row.

Daniel is sitting next to Alberta and on the other side of her is Kirova, of all people. Since my arrival, it's my first sighting of the headmistress and I try not to stare.

One of the last times I'd seen her, she was trying to get me to rethink submitting my withdrawal papers. I couldn't appreciate it at the time because I was going through so much but, looking back, I owe her a thanks despite our complicated history. For someone who wanted to have me expelled at one point, Kirova tried her hardest in convincing me to stay.

She looks in my direction and I turn away to see Callum entering the classroom. He descends the stairs two at a time and makes it to his stool just as Stan begins choralling the students.

"Alright, class, let's get started."

He steps out from behind his desk and the novices give him their undivided attention, clearly excited for what the hour has in store.

"We have four guest speakers with us this morning. Please join me in welcoming Guardians Volkov, Crestman, Hathaway, and Brown. They'll be sharing some of their experiences with you today to better prepare you for what's to come after graduation."

He briefly mentions something about the syllabus and goes into where they'll pick back up from in the next class.

While Stan speaks, I size up each of the students and notice a few of them doing the same to me. Undoubtedly, they know who I am.

As they're only a few years younger, I recognize some of them but don't know any by name. Though we would've been on the same campus in my final year, I was so focused on becoming Lissa's guardian, and finding excuses to be alone with Dimitri, that I hadn't paid much attention to anyone outside of our year, except for Mia and Jill.

"I expect all of you to be on your best behavior and to show them respect as they've taken the time to be here for you. And as tempted as some of you may be, save any questions you have until the very end." Stan points to one novice in particular as he says that last part. I know how that feels, kid.

"Guardian Volkov, the floor is yours."

Boris takes his time getting started.

He studies the novices in contemplative silence and the air in the room thickens, suspends. Not a single student dares to move a muscle or make a sound under the scrutiny of the intimidating guardian and I don't blame them.

When he finally speaks, his booming voice vibrates deeply in his chest, his accent thick and commanding. It sends a chill through me.

"You remind me of the students at St. Basil's Academy," he begins. "Driven, focused, eager. You are itching to join the ranks and with only four months left in your training, you may think you're ready now but until you're thrusting your stake into the heart of your first Strigoi, you'll never know what to expect. Now is the time for focus, for refinement. Don't waste it." He stares each one of them down and then lifts his pant leg to show a jagged scar running along the length of his calf. "I got this the day I made my first kill. It's the day I made a careless error that almost cost me my life and I want you to learn from it."

He tells the students of a time in his late teenage years when he and his charge, Neil Ivashkov, were caught driving in a rapid-forming snowstorm. They were on their way to St. Basil's to pick up Neil's younger sibling when their car slid on a patch of black ice and they ended up in a ditch.

With low visibility and a bad phone reception (it was the 80s), Boris made the call to walk the rest of the way. Only a mile from the wards, he thought the pair had a good shot of making it if they kept a steady pace. The only other option would've been to wait it out in the car but there was no telling how long the storm would be and a mother and child had died the previous year by doing that. It was all over the news at the time, he says.

They could see the gates ahead but Strigoi lay in wait for them. It was a well-known strategy of theirs to hide near the entrances of schools to wait for incoming travelers. Just outside of the wards, it was the perfect moment to strike.

The guardians posted there were able to help escort Neil to safety but Boris was caught up in the fray. He'd managed to pierce one of the undead in the chest but in the chaos of his first skirmish, he aimed low and got his stake lodged between its ribs. While painful, the injury wasn't deadly and the Strigoi was able to dig his teeth into Boris' thigh, ripping a gaping hole into the flesh, tearing the muscle and tendon. He only lived because the guardians at the gate were there to assist him.

From that day on, Boris never missed the heart again.

When he's done, it's Agatha's turn. She prefaces by detailing the various challenges that come with living in a place as heavily populated as New York City.

Her charge, Melanie, was in her second year of college and there was a gallery opening on the other side of the city that she desperately wanted to attend. The event was on a Friday and traffic was ridiculous. The pair had been avoiding the subway for obvious reasons but if they wanted to make it on time, it was their only option.

"The subway is a hotbed for Strigoi activity and an absolute nightmare for guardians to navigate. Strigoi live in the tunnels and move around the city during the day down there so we never used it." She lets out a sigh and a girl in the front row leans forward on her elbows, hanging on to her every word.

The route they needed to take was simple. Two trains, one switch, easy. But when they got to the second platform, Strigoi were there blocking the exits. Because it was so crowded, the women were able to slip back into their original car undetected. The detour would make them late but Melanie understood.

They hadn't expected a Strigoi to be waiting for them at every stop after. Eventually enough time passed that the pair had given up on making the opening altogether and instead, they were trying to figure out how they'd survive the night.

Agatha came up with a plan. They were to ride the train back in the opposite direction and hope for the best. They would get as close as possible to Melanie's apartment and Agatha's guarding partner would meet them there. They made it as close as one stop away before they were confronted.

A Strigoi entered their subway car just as the doors were closing. With only one other passenger on board this late, the Strigoi killed him easily and went for Melanie next. On the moving train, Agatha was somehow able to fend him off until they reached their final stop. Luckily, he fell onto her stake when the car screeched to a halt and they made it out of there alive.

"Moral of the story, don't take the risk and trust your gut," she finishes.

It's my turn to go next.

Wide eyes look back at me and I hope I don't disappoint.

"Many of you were here to witness the aftermath of Natalie Dashkov's death and heard the stories of what happened to Mason Ashford. You lived to see the attack on our school and have probably read all the reports about every controversy I've ever been wrapped up in…" I start to trail off, hearing myself rambling, until Alberta gives me a look of encouragement that helps me continue. "Everything I've been through has led me to where I am today, each instance instilling a crucial lesson I had to learn. Relaying any one of them could be of use to you but, to avoid rehashing what you've already heard, I'd like to tell you about one of my missions instead."

Chicago, October

My fingers tap a steady rhythm against the railing of the bridge. One, two, three, I count, calloused skin meeting the oxidized iron, as I commit the foreign landscape to memory.

In the distance, the sun inches over the horizon, leaving behind a chill in its wake. Golden rays peek over and around the tall buildings of downtown Chicago, casting an orange hue over the sprawling cityscape. Despite the falling temperatures, the area is bustling with activity, and it's obvious why the city has become such a Strigoi hub in recent years. There's an abundance of nightlife which means easy pickings for the evil bloodsuckers.

Peering over the edge, I watch the river flow leisurely through the channel. A small boat cruises by with a tour guide on board. He directs everyone's attention to the clock tower on my right and I tune him out as he relays the significance of the building.

Reading the time, I try my earpiece again.

"Testing, testing. Can anybody hear me?"

Silence.

I rip the small bud from my ear to check that it's still on and decide I'll give them fifteen minutes before I go searching.

In the meantime, I continue my surveillance of the riverwalk below, looking for any signs of Strigoi. With pale skin and red eyes, you'd think they'd be easy to spot but not with how crowded it is down there. Honestly, I'm surprised no one's fallen into the water yet. Even more so when I count how many people are already drunk.

As I'm making a second pass, I notice a group of girls exiting one of the restaurants. They lean on each other as they stumble over the threshold, laughing so thunderously I can hear them from all the way up here. Wearing mini dresses and crop tops, they're not at all dressed for the weather and I wonder how fast they can run in the heels they wear.

If only they knew of the dangers lurking in the shadows of their beloved city.

But then again, that's what we're here for.

A car honks at the opposite end of the street and the noise makes me turn just in time to see Dimitri cutting through the busy sidewalk. He meets my gaze as he approaches, brown eyes hardened to black, his duster cascading behind him in a hypnotizing motion.

"Anything?" I ask when he comes to a stop in front of me, his towering form offering refuge from the blistering wind. I pull the lapels of my leather jacket tighter around my body and ignore the temptation to lean closer for warmth.

He shakes his head. "No sign of him at the warehouse. Mikhail stayed behind just in case." And then, "You?"

"Nothing," I report with a frown, realizing we've all come up empty-handed. "And this stopped working." I point to my earpiece.

Dimitri gestures for me to give it to him so I hand over the tiny device. He removes his own and then fiddles with the tiny buttons on both until he's satisfied. "We were out of range. Try now."

I pop it back in and confirm the signal is back up and running.

"And Mikhail? What if he needs to reach us?"

We leave our phones behind in the hotel room now after I almost lost mine during our last raid.

"He'll find a way."

There's a saltiness to the air from the fresh water and the scent of something sweet wafts from a bakery nearby, making my stomach growl. I should've had a bigger lunch...or maybe it's just the cold.

"What now?" I ask a moment later when the silence is almost too much.

The idea of standing here with him for however long does not sound appealing. I need to get my blood pumping or else my fingers are going to freeze off.

"We wait," Dimitri replies.

The answer I'd been dreading. I've never been very good at that and he knows it. Patient is probably the last word anyone would ever use to describe me.

I kick the rubber sole of my black combat boot against the concrete in frustration and brace myself for the forthcoming argument. Dimitri doesn't like it when I stray from the plan.

Our guy must be out here somewhere. He has to be. If not at home then for sure his hunting grounds.

Oleg had snatched three people from this very stretch of the city over the last two weeks. Had lured them away from friends and family to drain them dry, then discard them like trash. I know we're in the right place and I'll be damned if he takes another person on our watch. I have to do something.

To hell with it.

"I've been waiting for over an hour, Belikov. Let's explore."

I make my way to the top of the stairs before turning back to wait for him. He ignores me, a dimple darkening between his brows. Maybe he figures I'll give up eventually but if that's the case, he doesn't know me at all.

Dimitri silently scans the crowd searching for anything of significance. He analyzes every last detail, just as I had, then starts the process over again when he's finished. Meticulous and by the book.

"We'll have a better view from up here," he concludes, his answer firm and final.

I could've predicted that.

"Oleg could already be inside any one of these places for all we know."

He glances my way with an eyebrow raised. "Are you saying he might've slipped past you?"

What little patience I do have is wearing thin. "What I'm saying is mostly everyone down there is bundled up in beanies and scarves. How are we supposed to know which ones are Strigoi?" Inching closer, I crane my neck to look him in the eye.

As if it were possible, his expression hardens even more as his eyes move over the planes of my face. I can see him considering what I've said, weighing our options, but we're wasting precious time and I've already made up my mind.

"While you figure out what you want to do, I'll be down there somewhere. You know how to reach me if you decide to join." Pointing to the bud in my ear in annoyance, I return to the steps. This time without waiting for a response.

It's a whole different experience on the lower level. Everyone is packed onto the narrow walkway like sardines and it's slightly warmer because of the body heat.

Dimitri was right about one thing, we did have a better overall view from the bridge. I don't think I'd be able to identify Oleg unless he was right next to me but I am able to get a good look at everyone's faces which wasn't possible from up there.

I enter the first business on my right.

Brushing past a waiter, I make my way through the dimly lit restaurant, focusing entirely on the patrons and not at all on the deep dish every table seems to have ordered. When there's no sign of anything untoward, I move on.

The bakery is next. It's only a fraction of the size and a quick sweep from the window suffices. No sign of Oleg.

The next restaurant is a seafood place. I'm just about finished crossing it off of my list when my earpiece crackles. Over the loud chatter of the dining room, I can't quite catch what's being said so I exit quickly.

When I'm outside, all I can hear over the line is static.

"Stupid, useless thing," I hiss, taking the piece out to examine it. I try to mimic what I'd seen Dimitri do earlier but it doesn't seem to help any. "Dimitri? Hello?" I look up to the bridge only to find he's no longer there. Perhaps the sound was him letting me know he's decided to join me. Just in case, I stay put, huddling under one of the restaurant's outdoor heaters.

I'm standing on my tiptoes to see over a tall group of men passing by when a chill creeps down my spine. My breathing slows as intuition pulls my attention further down the path to a bar two doors down, and that's when I see him. Oleg. I only catch a glimpse of him as he steps past the bouncer to vanish inside.

"Got you," I murmur to myself. Bringing a hand to my ear, I try the earpiece one more time. "I don't know if you can hear this but he's here. He just entered a bar called Ruthie's. I'm going in."

Time to catch a Strigoi.

I push past the throngs of people, making my way forward to the bar. With no time to waste, I ignore the line that's formed, heading straight for the door.

The bouncer, a tattooed man wearing a shirt two sizes too small, grabs me by the arm, fingers digging into my bicep. He's lucky there's people around and I'm in no mood to be arrested tonight because I would've had him on the floor by now.

"Not so fast," he says gruffly. "ID?"

Damn it. I glare at him. "No."

"No?" he laughs, grip tightening. "Then no entry. Move along."

"I don't have time for this," I bite, surging forward.

He pulls me back. "I don't care."

Wrenching my arm from his grasp, I reach into a zippered pocket on the inside of my jacket to show him my ID even though I know it's useless. I'm a few months shy of the legal drinking age. I curse myself for not thinking to get a fake.

"Nice try," he says, handing it back to me. "Get out of here and quit holding up my line."

"I need to go in," I press, regretting that my best assets were covered underneath three layers of clothing. I give him the most flirtatious look I can manage, trying a different route. "Please?"

He doesn't budge. "Come back in five months."

My fist clenches at my side and I'm getting ready to sock him in the gut when a hand, much gentler this time, moves along the small of my back to curl around my waist like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

"She's with me," Dimitri says, materializing beside me.

He stares at the bouncer unwaveringly before ushering me inside without a problem.

Unbelievable.

"What was that?" I bark over the loud bass of the music. How in the hell had it been so easy for him?

Dimitri shakes his head dismissively while saying something uncomplimentary about the bouncer in Russian. Then he pulls me into a corner of the room.

"That ass—"

"Let it go, Rose. We need to focus," he orders, surveying the room behind me. He's right.

"How did you know where to find me? Did you hear my message?"

He shakes his head. "No, we lost signal again. I spotted Oleg and came to warn you." He rubs a hand over his face in annoyance. "This is not at all how I wanted this to go. There are too many eyes in here." I can see his wheels turning. "We need to lure him out and quietly."

"Well, we know he won't do anything with this many people around. He's been discarding the bodies in areas where it's more secluded."

Dimitri nods. "And he won't leave until he has a victim."

One of the drunk girls I saw earlier strolls past us on her way from the bathroom. Her eyes move up Dimitri's body in a very unsubtle way. She brushes her long brown hair over her shoulder as she tries to catch his eye but he's too dialed in to notice. It gives me an idea.

"So let's give him one."

I reach for the band holding my hair in place and tug, releasing the updo, but he catches on quickly.

"No," he barks before I can shrug off my jacket. "We're not using you as bait."

"Why not? You don't think he'll be interested?"

He ignores me. "He'll know you're a dhampir the minute he smells you." He averts his gaze, swallowing visibly. "Trust me. He'll know it's a trap."

"So then what? We just wait for him to compel some poor, unsuspecting human?"

His voice lowers. "It's our best option."

I sigh in acceptance. "Okay, so we…"

"We wait," he finishes, shooting me a wary look.

"At least we're inside," I grumble.

Dimitri watches intently as I pull my hair back into a bun. Then we move deeper into the bar. The space is large enough that we can keep our distance from Oleg yet still have him in our sights. He's on the far side of the room talking to a group of women and I realize quickly that it's the same girls from earlier. The brunette that had taken a liking to Dimitri has now taken an interest in Oleg. Figures. Maybe compulsion wouldn't be necessary after all.

We sit at the bar and I'm shocked when Dimitri calls the bartender over to order us drinks.

"So we don't stand out," he says as a pink concoction is placed in front of me.

Reaching for the glass, I bring it up to my mouth, going as far as letting the sugary liquid coat my lips. The look he gives me is laughable. I set the drink down and roll my eyes. "We have to look like we're normal."

The next look he gives me says something like, 'We're a couple of guardians here to stake a Strigoi, Rose. We're the farthest thing from normal', but he ends up reaching for his glass just the same.

"I'm proud of you, com—"

"They're leaving," he interrupts, standing abruptly.

I look over and sure enough, Oleg and the brunette are making their way to the exit.

"That was fast," I blurt.

"Let's go."

Keeping a safe distance, we trail the pair as they meander along the riverwalk until they come to a stop. There aren't many people this far away and we hide behind a pillar to observe them without being noticed. The two start making out and I take a step forward, ready to end it.

"Not yet," Dimitri whispers.

"Why not?"

"Look." He gestures to a boat in the distance that's headed this way.

"She may not have that long. If he bites her, it'll look like he's just kissing her neck."

"We can't risk it. It'll be too hard for the alchemists to clean up." He's right. I hate that he's right.

So, begrudgingly, we wait. And just as the boat moves out of sight, we rush them.

At the sound of our echoing footfalls, Oleg drops his victim to the ground where she falls limply. There are two small puncture holes on her neck leaking blood. I hope she's still alive but there isn't time to check.

He reaches for me first, believing me to be the weaker link, but I dodge him at the last second. Slipping under his arm, I knick his torso with the pointed end of my stake as Dimitri engages him head on. They trade blows, strength against strength, while I look for an opportunity to strike. When there is an opening, I do what I can.

I manage to land a hit on his shoulder and Dimitri kicks his legs out from under him. Oleg falls to the ground and I see my chance. It's risky but I jump on top of him and thrust my stake down. In his scramble to get back up, he evades me and my weapon rebounds against the hard cement.

Dimitri grabs me by the wrist to pull me away before Oleg can do any damage but it all happens so quickly that neither of us realize he's already scratched up my arm pretty badly. The good thing is, it's not on my dominant side.

He lunges for Dimitri, baring teeth, and I spy lights in the distance that signal another incoming boat.

"We need to end this now!"

We fight in tandem, each taking turns landing hits. We successfully dodge all of Oleg's attempts to incapacitate us.

As if sensing my next move, Dimitri hits Oleg forcefully on his left shoulder, propelling the Strigoi's right side forward, then he leans back slightly to give me room. My stake pierces Oleg's heart and I fall on top of him as he sinks to the ground.

Pulling my stake from his chest, I wipe it off on the sleeve of my jacket that's still intact before going to check the unconscious girl's pulse. I know we're short on time but I can't leave without knowing.

Dimitri lugs Oleg's lifeless body into a nearby trash can for the alchemists to find.

"She's dead," I announce, taking a step back. "She's dead. What do we do?"

Dimitri looks between me and the girl with a somber look. Then he looks back at the trash can.

"They won't both fit in there," I say, wrapping my arms around myself. "She shouldn't be in there with him."

A horn sounds. The boat is close.

"We have to go, Rose." Dimitri looks pained to say it. "You've already lost a lot of blood and we're out of time. We have to go now."

"Should we move her at least? To give the alchemists time to get rid of Oleg."

Dimitri nods, eyes searching for another hiding spot and it occurs to me what needs to happen. I grab the brunette by the shoulders and start pulling her over to the water.

"Let me do it," Dimitri offers gently.

"No, I—I got it." I gesture to her heels. "Take those off and put them in the trash so they don't float to the surface."

"Any time someone hears about the Strigoi hunting, they're curious to know more and for good reason. It's unusual and kind of exciting. Personally, I don't mind talking about it with anyone — truly — but it's not all glorious. None of us have been seriously injured yet but our missions haven't been without incident." I lift my sleeve to show them the gashes. "As for the girl, her body did float eventually." My tone is grim. "Two skilled guardians and we were powerless to save her due to the unfortunate timing. But her death was the last one at Oleg's hand and that's what we told ourselves to get by. You can be one of the very best. You can do everything right, you can kill your Strigoi, and still find a way to fail. The lesson here is to not let it overpower you and guide you to your next shortcoming. Sometimes things are just out of your control."

Daniel locks eyes with me and nods approvingly while some of the students cast long glances at each other. In disappointment or in consideration, I can't say for sure.

And I don't have any time to reflect because, soon enough, Callum begins.

A/N: Hi! I apologize for the extended wait. I definitely wanted to have this out sooner but life. Also, wanted to make it clear that Romitri is endgame. It will just take them some time to get there. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know your thoughts below :)