**Chapter 8**
The walk home was quiet, the kind of hush that settled into the bones and made even the familiar feel different. Mika's boots crunched softly against the sidewalk, Logan trotting faithfully beside her, his tail swaying gently in rhythm with her steps. The sky had begun to dim, the sun slipping behind the buildings in streaks of gold and violet.
Logan looked up at her with those knowing eyes, and she reached down to scratch behind his ears. "He didn't try to feed you raw steak or anything, right?" she murmured, smiling softly. "No mysterious rituals, just some chicken and a cold floor?"
Logan gave a soft woof as if answering her with a barked laugh. Mika chuckled and continued walking. The streets leading to her apartment were still, a few passing cars, the hum of the city fading to a low murmur behind them.
When they reached her building, Mika unlocked the door and let Logan rush in first, tail wagging, nose already sniffing for leftover crumbs. She closed the door behind them, dropped her bag onto the couch, and kicked off her boots with a relieved sigh.
She stood there for a moment, watching Logan nose around, then glanced toward the window. The fading light cast long shadows across her floor, and her gaze lingered on the darkness creeping in from outside.
"Alexander," she said aloud, testing the weight of his full name on her tongue.
It felt strange—foreign—but intimate. Like she was saying something sacred. Mika moved to the kitchen and opened the fridge, her stomach reminding her that she hadn't eaten since early that morning. She grabbed some leftover pasta and reheated it in the microwave.
"I don't know what you are," she said aloud as she stirred the food. "But you're not just some guy with pretty eyes and a mysterious past. You've got secrets like... like thorns under your skin."
Logan, now curled up on the rug, perked one ear at her voice.
Mika sat at the small table and began eating. The silence in the room stretched around her words like they didn't want to let go. She kept talking anyway.
"I mean, you live alone, in that pristine apartment with nothing personal, except for that weirdly perfect black rose. Who even owns a black rose?" she asked, pushing a bite of pasta around on her plate. "And why did it feel like you were already waiting for me when I knocked?"
She sighed, dropping her fork and leaning back in her chair.
"You scare me, Alexander," she whispered. "But not the way I should be scared."
The room seemed to tighten around her at that. She shook her head and stood, cleaning her plate and setting it aside to dry. After feeding Logan and brushing her teeth, she changed into a loose tank top and sleep shorts. Her freckles stood out more in the soft light, and her hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands falling into her face.
She turned off the lights, leaving only a small lamp on beside her bed. Logan was already curled in his spot near the foot of it, head resting on his paws, eyes following her movements.
"Night, buddy," she whispered, bending to kiss the top of his head.
The bed creaked softly as she slipped beneath the covers. Her eyes lingered on the ceiling, the edges of her thoughts still swirling with images of Lex—no, Alexander—his cold hands, his unreadable eyes, the way he said her name like it meant something.
Eventually, her breathing slowed. Her eyes closed.
And she drifted off.
---
Hours passed. The moon rose.
Outside, the wind rustled the leaves of the trees along the street, casting long, shifting shadows on the buildings. The light from the streetlamps spilled across Mika's window, illuminating the edge of the sill—where Lex now sat, still and quiet.
He crouched like a shadow made flesh, his figure sharp against the glow of the moon. His dark hoodie was torn at the shoulder, stained deep crimson. His skin was paler than usual under the light, and dried blood clung to his jaw and chin, crusted along the corners of his mouth.
He didn't move. He didn't blink.
His eyes were locked on Mika.
She lay curled on her side, one hand tucked beneath her pillow, her hair tumbling across her face in soft waves. Her freckles were visible even in the dark, scattered like stardust across her cheeks and nose.
Lex tilted his head.
There had been a man tonight. A predator. Someone who lingered outside bars, waiting for someone like her. Lex had followed him first out of instinct. Then out of certainty.
The kill had been fast.
The feeding, slower.
Now the blood still clung to his face like guilt, sticky and warm. He hadn't wiped it away. Not yet.
He leaned slightly forward, his hand pressed to the glass. It fogged beneath his fingertips.
He shouldn't be here.
And yet he was.
She stirred in her sleep, murmuring something he couldn't hear. Logan shifted, tail twitching, then stilled again.
Lex exhaled slowly, so softly it didn't disturb the air. The ache inside him was not hunger this time. It was something else. Something worse. Something human.
"I can't stay away from you," he whispered through the glass, though she couldn't hear him.
He watched her for another minute. Then another.
Only when the wind outside howled against the building did he finally move. His fingers curled into a fist, nails pressing into his palm. He slowly opened the window, stepping inside, making sure Logan didn't detect him.
He creapt towards the bed wanting to touch her, taste her. Logan shot up and started barking, Lex ran out of the window and disappeared.
Mika, woke up, looking around and noticed the open window. Something was wrong.