The thuds quicken.

Reid flicks off his flashlight and hurriedly conceals his form in the shadows beside the doorframe. He keeps his mouth firmly shut and takes soft inhales out of his nose that make him a bit dizzy, but it works to keep his fast breathing quiet.

The phone in his pocket goes off against his thigh, and Reid quickly covers it with his palm, trying to muffle the vibrations.

The thudding suddenly ceases, and silence settles, save for the battering rain against the glass of the window.

Reid remains still for a long stretch of time, crouched with his knees bent and his lower back pressed flush against the wall. He debates texting Kenneth that he might be in trouble, but he's not sure if he's being paranoid and hearing sounds in the dark where there aren't any. It's happened before, when his head slips into the place between past and present.

After the quiet settles, Reid inhales deeply and slowly peeks around the ajar door. It's open enough that he can stare into the shadows of the bloodstained corridor.

Initially, Reid doesn't see anything while squinting but hears a shuffle. His adrenaline works overtime to adjust his eyes to the dark and, ever so slowly, bring outlines into focus.

The closed doors, the potted plant atop a lengthy table that he'd passed on his way to the bedroom, the many paintings that cover the expansive walls—he doesn't miss the heart-raising sight of a person, bathed in shadow, standing in the middle of the corridor. They're big and staring in his general direction.

Reid pulls his head sharply away from the open doorway.

The flashlight falls from his hand and bounces against the carpeted floor with a soft thud. Reid rears up and slams the doors shut with both his palms. And, instantly, the giant breaks into a run; every muffled thud makes Reid's heartbeat race faster.

The doors have locks. Reid fumbles with shaking hands, and by divine intervention, they click in tandem with the doorknob being turned from the other side. He glances around wildly, trying to come up with options, feeling very much like a trapped animal. The second floor isn't the ideal place to be cornered.

The balcony.

He's halfway to the glass door when a man's baritone voice through the door fills the room: "Open the door, or it'll be that much worse for you. I'm with the police."

Reid swivels his head to look at the door and narrows his eyes. It shudders and groans as it's shoved from the other side. He knows that voice and knows it well.

Axel.

Not the police, far from it.

If Gabriel's dog is here, that only confirms that he has something to do with the murders.

"Damn," Reid bemoans in defeat. He's absolutely screwed. It's not a man chasing him; it's an apex predator, a vampire.

If Reid gives up his identity and reveals he's not a creep picking through a crime scene, Axel won't dare hurt him; Reid's sure of it. But he can't let Gabriel know that he was here tonight, or it'll tip the bastard off that Reid's on to him. He doesn't put it past Gabriel to drag him, kicking and screaming, back to that hellhole to keep Reid quiet.

Reid groans dejectedly, already knowing what he must do. He hurries to the glass door, shutting it behind him with a slam, and quickly clicks the lock the very moment the bedroom door is bashed inward, splintering pieces of white wood across the carpeted floor.

Through the glass, stepping over the wooden carnage, Axel is a hulking mass. He's always been huge and muscular, even towering over Kenneth. Reid's never been on the receiving end of the vampire's ire—anger, sure, but also warm smiles and fondness—and now, as Axel stomps across the bedroom and Reid takes stumbling steps back against the rain-slicked stone of the balcony, he's the sole focus of the vampire's savage stare.

It's admittedly really frightening. Reid knows that if he runs, it'll only spur the vampire on; that's kind of how it works, but he doesn't have a choice.

Reid turns and grips the wet balustrade. The locked doorknob behind him fails to turn and clicks. The rusted, flaking metal digs into his palms as he swings his legs over. Giving a quick glance down, it's not that far, but from up here, it looks dizzying.

Through the glass of the door, Axel raises his dark eyebrows and jerks the door handle hard enough that the sound of grinding metal reaches Reid's ears.

The downpouring rain batters the stonework of the balcony, slickening everything and making this entire stupid idea even more unsafe as Reid struggles to keep his grip firm.

Axel grins wickedly, fangs on display, mingling with the shadows behind his hulking form. It would be quite terrifying if Reid hadn't lived around vampires his entire life. He knows they show their fangs for everything and anything.

Muffled through the door, Axel says lowly, "Come here. Now."

If Reid were entirely human, the entrancment would've worked. It shudders that air with the pure will of it. Reid grips the balustrade tighter to keep his balance and risks giving his pursuer the middle finger.

The reaction, or lack thereof, takes Axel off guard; the vampire's expression is genuine shock before it shadows back into frightening. He takes a step back, and it's clear he's going to use his booted foot to shatter the glass door.

Reid uses a burst of adrenaline to push past all the preambles about potentially breaking his legs, and lowers himself down the balustrade's wet railing.

For a moment, he hangs in the air until his fingers slip on the slick edge and he falls to the patio below.

He lands on his feet, knees slightly bent, with a splashing thud against the wet stone of the patio. Tingling pain radiates from his ankles and up his back from the force of the landing, but nothing else.

He actually made it unscathed.

Reid can't remain in awe of himself for long because he's still got to cross the yard, go through the woods, and get to his car.

The moment he turns to make the sprint, a fist meets his stomach.

It might be the hardest punch he's ever received, surely cracking ribs and bruising organs. Reid's knees hit the rain-slickened concrete. He wheezes for air, every breath agonising.

Oh, right. Axel's never alone.

Kiernan would have been waiting outside.

Reid's a moron.

It must be a pathetic sight as Reid crawls past Kiernan's glossy dress shoes, tiny pieces of glass from the broken backdoor cutting into his palms, but he pushes forward, towards the safety of the grass.

It's the wrong move.

As the wet grass soaks into Reid's damp jeans, one of those stupid loafers stomps on the side of his leg. It doesn't let up, pining Reid's knee sideways against the dirt and giving him a faceful of grass.

He apparently can make sounds past pathetic wheezing because, when Kiernan presses harder and twists his foot, the pain of Reid's knee bones grinding together forces out a choked scream he's not proud of.

Kiernan drawls from above, "Having trouble?"

Reid thinks the words are for him, gloating, but then Axel's voice comes from the vicinity of the shattered backdoor. "I didn't know he'd jump off the damn balcony."

The foot lifts off Reid's knee. It provides some relief, but the pain is still fierce.

Stuck the landing but ended up having a messed-up leg anyway.

Reid laughs with his cheek pressed against the wet grass, the sound muffled by the face covering he's wearing, but the vampires must have heard it because Kiernan chuckles with a sound close to astonishment.

"We've got a crazy one here," Kiernan says, sounding unnervingly delighted by the prospect.

Reid stuffs his hand blindly between his body and the wet earth. He slips his shaking fingers into the pocket of his sweatshirt and grasps the cold metal of his switchblade's handle.

It won't do much against a vampire, but he's unsure of who the enemies are anymore, and there's a sudden, thrumming burning in his blood. It's dark and twisted. His mouth is impossibly dry.

Even if the thought of simply submitting is enticing his mind with promises to quell the deep-seated ache in his stomach and the desert thirst parching his throat, Reid knows what it means—blood calls to blood. He refuses to nurture the unwanted sensations, shoving them deep down and locking them away in the same place he keeps all his other depraved thoughts.

Axel groans. "We're not supposed to let anyone in there." His boots squelch against the wet grass as he comes around to Reid's other side, and they're effectively boxing Reid in with their presence.

"No. We aren't," Kiernan says, unbothered. "We got too comfortable and let a rat slip by." He nudges Reid's aching ribs with the toe of his shoe, applying pressure until Reid turns on his back, concealing his hand that holds the knife in the pocket of his sweater.

For a moment, as Reid blinks up, he fears he's been recognized by his blue eyes alone. But it's obvious; he's being assessed as prey. He doesn't know which is better.

Kiernan stares down at him with a smirk, his tan skin and curly brown hair wet from the falling rain, soaking through his jeans and black button-up. Axel's expression is darker than his companions as he lowers himself into a crouch, and he's no less wet with rain, his black hair dripping with it, and his usual black t-shirt and cargos are soaked through.

Reid tries to rise onto his elbows, but Kiernan's shoe kicks his side in warning. It's not hard, but it aches his injured ribs so badly that he sucks in a sharp breath and his back arches to get away.

They both laugh at his pain.

He could rip off his mask and stop it all, but he still has a chance to escape. He hasn't been found out yet.

"Earlier..." Axel says, reaches out, and it takes everything in Reid to not stab the oaf's hand as the vampire's fingers grab the metal zipper of his sweatshirt and pull down slowly, drawing out the act with a soft screech.

It's for no other reason but intimidation; Reid knows this, but still, his chest rises and falls rapidly as the lapels of his sweater fall open, his dry cotton shirt speckling with rain. He conceals his hand and the knife between the grass and the open sweatshirt.

Axel's palm settles atop Reid's rapidly beating heart, as if to feel his fear, and the vampire's baritone voice is too close. "I told him to open the door, and he resisted me. The little prick gave me the finger."

Kiernan snorts a laugh. "Really? He's not a vampire. He's still in pain." He kicks Reid's ribs, and the vampire's smirk widens at Reid's humiliating whimper. Kiernan bends closer to purr, "Ah, there it is. Makes the prettiest sounds too. Let's hear another..."

Another kick to his side.

Reid's finished playing this game. It hurts too much, and damning the consequences, he tries desperately to say, "Sto—"

Reid is cut off when Kiernan kicks him in the face. The initial pain never registers because Reid's world goes dark.

It takes a few seconds to blink back into reality; no hand is holding him down, and he's turned on his side with the taste of blood in his mouth and covering his teeth.

It's not clear how much time has passed; Axel's saying something, his voice ebbing from afar. Kiernan's laughing as Reid's senses slowly return and sharpen. The cold rain battering his face is causing him to shiver uncontrollably, or it might be from the pain; either way, it sucks.

His ringing ears focus on the clinking chains of the swing that dangle from the rusty playset on the edge of the property.

There's light pressure on his injured knee. Reid's shaking fingers reach down, and with the hand not holding the knife, he grabs Kiernan's ankle in desperation.

Reid tries to speak, but his pleas are incoherent slurs, sputtering with the blood that's pooling against his tongue. He lifts a shaking hand from Kiernan's ankle to grab the face covering and pull it off, but Axel laughs and seizes Reid's wrist in a tight grip, halting him inches away from revealing his identity.

"Don't fight," Kiernan purrs with the sole of his shoe posed gently against Reid's injured knee. He smiles widely. "Truthfully, we don't actually care why you were here tonight. All you need to know is..." He presses against Reid's knee harder and only stops once a broken sob escapes Reid's trembling lips beneath the face covering. "You won't be leaving here alive. So, relax. Accept it, and die with some dignity."

Axel snorts. "Well, some dignity." He grins at Reid's pain-filled gaze and tightens his grip on the wrist in his grasp while soothing his voice unsettlingly: "It's not me you have to worry about. He's the sadist."

Kiernan laughs low. "I can be. When the occasion calls for it. They didn't used to have a name for it. I never thought much about it, but the vulnerability of pain has its beauty, I suppose."

Axel hums contemplatively.

The cruel foot keeps pressure on Reid's injured knee, causing dull, constant pain that makes even attempting to stand up an impossible dream.

Beneath the open lapel of his sweatshirt, Reid carefully flips his switchblade up as the vampire's attentions divert from him to their twisted conversation on who gets the pleasure of draining his blood.

They're going to kill him, not even trying to hide it as they argue about who has to get rid of his body.

It's not surprising; vampires are cold, calculated monsters, but still, it's a new kind of twisted experience to be the one at their cruel mercy.

After a tense argument. They decide that Axel will go first, but Kiernan will kill him.

And then, Axel's cold fingers tighten so hard on Reid's wrist that he's afraid it will snap, and the vampire's free hand grabs the collar of Reid's sweatshirt, roughly yanking it off his shoulder, and the violent implication of what's about to happen to him makes him practically feel the fangs piercing his skin. The thought makes him shiver harder, spurring Reid into action.

The knife has delved into Axel's bicep before either of the vampires can react.

Axel jerks back, letting go of Reid's wrist, with a strangled sound of both pain and surprise.

The attack has no finesse; it's savage. Reid doesn't stop, even when his knee is stomped on agonisingly, because he's feeling nothing short of feral.

He stabs Axel twice more in his already bleeding upper arm, but before he can dare another, Kiernan's suddenly close, snarling with fangs. And, in the blink of an eye, he has Reid's bloodied hand in his grasp, and the knife is ripped away.

"You little prick," Axel growls and clutches at his bleeding arm while looking over his injuries. The stab wounds will heal quickly, but they're probably hurting terribly, if the vampire's twisting expression is any indication. "Fuckin...stabbed me."

"Shut up," Kiernan whispers, holding Reid's fingers tightly and staring at his bloody hand with widening eyes.

No. Not Reid's hand, his ring.

Reid's such a sentimental moron, fleeing the coven and its dark promises but still wearing the signet ring on his forefinger. All because his mother was the one who gifted him with it.

Kieran and Axel wear identical rings, as do all the Kimberk coven.

It's a frenzy of rough movements that has Keirnan shoving Reid's hood off his head, yanking off the wool hat to free his messy locks of blond hair, and finally tugging the face covering off so fast it leaves a burn on Reid's skin.

The moment Reid's mouth is free, he spits a glob of bloody saliva to spatter across Kiernan's face.

Kiernan jerks back. He slowly wipes his face with the wet sleeve of his shirt. "I should've known it was you."

"Shit," Axel whispers with a slight waver in his deep voice. He meets Kiernan's gaze, and Reid has a sense of self-satisfaction at the genuine fear that flits through the giant of a man's grey eyes. "We walloped the kid."

Kiernan hums softly. "No. I did." He looks at Reid sharply. "Why'd you jump off that balcony, Reid? You knew it was Axel chasing you." He leans closer so he can look intensely between Reid's eyes; there's a smear of bloody spit on his forehead. "Are you on something?"

"Are you, kid?" Axel asks, accusatory.

Reid rises to sit, a palm pressed into the mud to keep himself upright, the other around his middle to try and quell that deep ache that's igniting with each breath. "Me? You're the crazy ones. Murdering like it's nothing. What's wrong with you?" He gives a bad rendition of Kiernan's voice: "The vulnerability of pain has its beauty." Reid can taste so much blood in his mouth that he has to spit it on the grass before whispering hatefully, "Sicko."

They're not listening to him; they're both looking around, eyes scanning the shadows, suddenly on high alert. It's obvious who they're looking for, and the fact they think Kenneth's going to jump out of a tree to vanquish them for their misdeeds has Reid laughing so hard that he gets concerned looks from the pair.

"Down boys," Reid says through bouts of laughter. "Kenneth isn't here." He feels drunk, intoxicated by the pain. It's making him nauseous. Kenneth's going to kill him. Reid should have let himself be eaten.

Axel snorts and smiles in disbelief. "He doesn't now that you're here?" He catches Kiernan's eyes, something unsaid passing between them, before Axel turns his gaze back to Reid, and clears his throat. "Kid, you're lucky it was us that came across you."

Reid prods gingerly at his aching face. "Ha, yeah, I'm real lucky, chum." His left cheek and lips are swollen and hurt to the touch. Reid's assessing fingers freeze, Kiernan stares at him amused, and Axel's wears a serious expression. Reid can't help but feel that he's missed something important. He has a pang of worry in his churning gut. "What? Why are you staring at me like that? Is it bad?"

"Not the reason, but hell yeah, it's bad," Axel says, tilting his head to give Reid a careful once-over. "How does it feel?"

"Bad," Reid says with a slur in his voice. He stiffens as Kiernan's knuckles graze his cheek and debates biting the appendages for the simple satisfaction of it, but the touch is fleeting, leaving once Reid turns his face slightly to better show what must be a nasty bruise.

Kiernan inhales deeply. "We'll take him back to Fawnhill."

"Gabriel's going to lose it," Axel groans.

"I'll think of something. Don't worry."

There's no way in hell that he's going to let these morons drag him back to that hellhole. Reid's already turned around the moment Fawnhill was uttered and tries to put weight on his leg, but it's not going to be of much use for him right now, so he does the only thing he can, which is crawl on his hands and knees against the muddy, wet grass with one goal in mind: get to his car. He might be delirious—he probably is—but it seems like a pretty sound plan.

"Oi, Kid." Axel's deep laugh rumbles above the pattering rain.

There's the slow sound of grass squelching as someone approaches from behind. Reid tries to awkwardly crawl with one hand as he uses the other to draw his phone from the wet pocket of his jeans.

Falling rain splatters the screen.

He has a missed message and three missed calls. All from Kenneth.

Reid shakily presses the green call button on Kenneth's contact, but he doesn't hear the dial tone before the phone is taken from his grasp with embarrassing ease.

Kiernan stares down at Reid's phone screen. "He was calling, Kane."

Reid's body decides it's done being cooperative, and he slumps awkwardly, half-sitting and half-leaning on his palms against the mud. "Wasn't beating me up enough? You have to take my stuff too?" He spits out more blood across the grass, and his aim is horrible; crimson stains speckle his soaked jeans.

"He's here," Kiernan says with Reid's phone to his ear. He gives Reid's glare of horror a wink. "If you ask me nicely, I'll let you speak to him."

Reid steadies his voice. "Give me my phone." His authority might work under normal circumstances, but right now, all it gets him is a widening grin from Kiernan.

The dogs are off their leashes.