One of the men opened the door—Jillian recognized him as the one she'd seen earlier that day. He cracked it just enough to peer out, then stepped fully into view with a lopsided grin.

"Evening," he said.

Jillian offered a faint smile. "Hi. I was hoping to speak with someone inside—" she hesitated, unsure how to phrase it "—someone in particular."

The man raised an eyebrow, still grinning. "And who might you be?"

"Jillian Vale. I live next door. Just thought I'd come by and welcome you to the neighborhood."

She felt the words fall flat, like an excuse that even she didn't believe. She glanced down, mentally cursing herself.

After a beat of silence, he extended a hand. "Well, it's a pleasure, Jillian. I'm Billy Cole."

She shook it, cautiously. His grip was firm. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Cole."

"Come on in." He gestured inside.

She stepped into a room cluttered with half-unpacked boxes and vintage furniture.

"It's a bit of a mess 'cause we haven't finished unpacking, but I'm sure I can find you a seat somewhere." Billy cleared some boxes off a beautiful antique couch. "Here, this'll work, right?" He patted the cushion.

"Yes, thank you." She sat, hands clasped in her lap.

"I'm heading out, but Jerry should be waking up right about now." Billy walked further into the house, cupped a hand around his mouth, and called, "Hey, Jer? Wake up—you've got company! Our neighbor—Jillian Vale!"

A pause. Billy looked down at Jillian, smiling too wide, and added, his voice lower— "And she's a pretty little thing, too."

Jillian suppressed a shudder at the comment, thoroughly creeped out—especially considering the context. She could tell Billy was sizing her up… possibly as one of Jerry's potential victims. Or perhaps he was a monster, too, and he wanted a piece of her.

"Jerry!" Billy called for him again, louder this time.

Jerry. So that's his name. A small smirk grew on Jillian's lips. Well, that's the most badass vampire name I've ever heard.

A muffled thump came from below. Billy smirked. "He heard me. He'll be up in a minute."

He grabbed his keys from the table. "Nice meeting you, Jillian," he said before departing through the front door. The way he'd said that sounded less like a hospitable farewell, and more like Nice knowing you, Jillian. You're dead meat now.

Silence returned like a weight. Jillian shifted in her seat, questioning every decision that had brought her here. The full moon was a long way off. She was vulnerable, fragile—and dangerously human.

And she was unarmed. What does one even bring to combat a vampire? Well… it was too late now. The only weapon she had to use was her wit, and she could only hope that her wolf would warn her if it sensed the vampire about to attack.

Then came the sound of footsteps ascending from below. She tensed, ready to spring up and bolt out the door if he tried anything. She heard him moving around in the next room.

At last, Jerry appeared in the doorway, casually biting into an apple. His dark eyes met hers, sharp yet unbothered, his presence effortlessly commanding.

"So… Jillian," he said, his voice smooth and low, with just enough mischief to soften its edge.

She nodded once. "That's right."

"I take it you've met Billy."

"I have."

He leaned against the doorframe, the apple glinting in his hand. He tossed it up into the air once, catching it. The smack it made when it hit his palm might as well have been thunder to Jillian. "Good. He's not much for conversation, but… he has his uses."

She said nothing.

"Well… seems that you aren't feeling all that talkative, either. Hm. I have to say, I like you better when you're not yelling at me in the street."

Jillian scowled.

He chuckled at that. He disappeared into the kitchen again, and came back with a wooden chair under his arm. He placed it directly across from her.

"But… I'm sure you didn't come just to stare at your handsome new neighbor." He grinned, his perfect teeth flashing. "You're here to talk. And I assume this isn't just about neighborly courtesy."

"It's not."

"Glad to hear it." He sat with one leg crossed, eyeing her over another bite of apple—his expression serious once more. "So… what's on your mind?"

"Don't play dumb," she said flatly, gradually feeling secure enough to let more words tumble out. "You know what this is about."

Jerry's expression didn't change. "Are you going to tell me why you didn't show up to the bar the other night?"

"I wasn't sure if I should be anywhere near you. I saw you kill a woman. Bite her neck. Can you blame me?"

"No, I suppose not. But here you are, practically delivering yourself to me… on my couch, in my living room. Brave move—but risky, don't you think?"

"Maybe. But I don't think you would have been comfortable talking about vampires publicly in a sports bar, anyway."

"A wise observation," he said with a nod. "Perhaps I just wanted to get to know you better."

"I'm not stupid. I see right through that lie."

"No, you're not stupid. In fact, I've underestimated you," he told her, almost genuine. "Still… I don't think you understand the position you're in. There is no guarantee that you'll leave this house alive."

Jillian drew in a sharp breath, her blood running cold.

Jerry's dark eyes flashed with hunger. There was no point for him to manipulate her, seduce her, or shield her from the truth. She was already captive in his home, his sanctuary. He could end it right here, if he had to.

And Jillian knew it. She exhaled shakily, working hard to steady her nerves. Her wolf, lingering beneath her skin, was certainly uneasy—but oddly, it had not sent any alarm signals yet.

So she didn't run. Not yet.

"You think I'm crazy for coming here, don't you?" she asked him slowly, trying to appeal to his humanity—if he had any. She was beginning to think she was nuts, too.

"I thought you were curious. Maybe a bit too bold and brash for your own good. But you're more than that." Jerry leaned forward in his chair, his stare intense—devilishly intimate. "You're intelligent. Fierce. Not afraid to speak your mind."

Jillian ignored the strange flicker in her chest. "You threatened me, Jerry. In the street, and just now. You can stop pretending to want to 'get to know me'."

"I warned you. There's a difference."

"No, stop lying."

Jerry sighed, his brows furrowing. "Okay. Fine. It was an attempt at intimidation, which didn't work… clearly," He gestured to her sitting on the couch with one hand, before it rested again on his lap. "You've made yourself a serious threat to my existence. I won't ignore that."

She watched him carefully. "Why not just kill me then?"

He held her gaze. "Because I didn't want to. Still don't—as long as you do as I say." Jerry studied her for a few long moments. "Simply put, Jillian, you fascinate me."

"I'm not one of your conquests. You think I'm as easy to fool as the rest of your prey." She sneered at the word. "But I'm not."

"You shouldn't assume such things. I know you're not like the rest of them. You're different."

"How so?"

"You've got a fire in you. You're independent, and you're smart. You know what I am, and yet… you're here. Despite your fear, you're here, staring death in the face." He paused, and as his gaze locked with her, something in his eyes became more sincere… almost heartfelt. "It's been a few decades since I've met someone like you."

That caught Jillian off-guard. His gaze was pulling at her, and she couldn't look away—whether from fear or from being transfixed, she didn't know. His eyes were beautiful—a rich dark brown. Not the color she imagined a vampire's eyes to be. But there was something undeniably ancient about them. And the way they looked at her now, she felt as if he was stripping her away with his gaze, layer by layer… unveiling her soul beneath.

She shuddered, unable to untangle all the bizarre feelings knotting up inside her. Terror, hatred… attraction.

But she took a calming breath, let it out. She couldn't let him intimidate her—distract her. She had to remember what she came here for.

Finally, Jillian leaned forward, her fingers laced tightly in her lap. Her voice came low but steady, a flint-spark of defiance beneath the calm.

"I'm not willing to stand by and let you take innocent lives," she said. "But I know I can't stop you. Not if you decide to… end me. So instead, I'm here to make a deal."

Jerry tilted his head, amused. "This should be good."

"In exchange for my silence," she said, each word carefully measured, "I need access to your basement. One night a month."

That drew a reaction. His eyebrows lifted high. "That's it?"

"That's it."

His eyes narrowed in curiosity. "And why my basement, specifically?"

"You don't need to know."

For a beat, the only sound was the quiet ticking of a wall clock and the slow crunch of the last bite of his apple. Then Jerry exhaled through his nose, the amusement fading slightly. "I can't allow that."

"Why not?" Jillian asked, something flickering at the edge of her mouth. "Do you sleep in a coffin down there?"

Jerry didn't answer.

Jillian blinked. Then her eyes widened, and she let out a small, incredulous laugh. "Oh my God. You do."

Still, Jerry said nothing.

She leaned back, and this time, her laughter came freely—unfiltered, full-bodied, and unexpected, even to her. The tension in her shoulders loosened, and for the first time that evening, she allowed herself to smile.

"That was a joke! You really sleep in a coffin?"

"It's not as dramatic as it sounds," he muttered, rubbing at one of his temples.

"Oh, it's exactly as dramatic as it sounds. Jesus, you're like something out of a Hammer horror flick."

Despite himself, Jerry cracked a smile. She really was something.

"Well, you'd better move it somewhere else," Jillian continued.

"I don't have any other place to put it."

"Sure you do. This house is just as big as mine. You've got rooms upstairs, downstairs…"

"It's complicated," he told her. "Billy and I moved a lot of things into the basement in the past few days, too. It look a long while to get it all down there."

"Tell you what—I'll help you move everything, if you're so lazy. Tomorrow," she declared, more confident in the vampire's presence now. Not exactly comfortable… but confident. "We can leave the coffin where it is until I need the space."

He studied her for a long moment, the humor in his eyes replaced by something quieter, more contemplative. "'Tell me what'?" his lips pursed. "Is that right?"

Jillian remained steadfast, but her posture was looser now. She held his gaze, unwavering. "That's right."

A slow smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, the kind that said he wasn't quite sure what to make of her. "Alright. We have a deal."

They stood, facing each other, the handshake firm—unspoken terms hanging between them like static in the air.

"What time tomorrow?" she asked.

"Sometime between six-thirty and seven. As the sun goes down."

"Sounds good."

Jillian turned toward the door, but Jerry called after her. "Hold on."

He crossed to the hall closet and pulled out a backpack. Her backpack—left behind Sunday night. She'd completely forsaken it. But now, he was offering it to her.

She took it, eyes narrowing with surprise. "Did you plan to return this all along?"

"Perhaps I did… perhaps I didn't." He gave a small shrug, a playful glint in his eyes.

Jillian didn't respond right away, but her lips curled upwards ever so slightly as she slung it over her shoulder.

As she stepped out, Jerry leaned against the doorframe, that casual elegance returning to him like a well-worn coat. "Shall I walk you home, Miss Vale?"

She should be afraid to turn her back to him, but somehow she wasn't. She glanced over her shoulder. "I live next door. I think I'll survive."

Jerry chuckled, the sound rich and low, like velvet laced with smoke. "Fair enough. Have a good night, Jillian."

She paused, her hand on the gate, and looked back one last time.

"You too… Jerry."

And then she was gone, the night swallowing her footsteps as the door creaked and clicked shut behind her.