Watching.
Waiting.
And the relief that had started creeping through the churchyard dies instantly.
Someone near the gates quietly swears. Another brother reaches toward the weapon at his hip before stopping himself halfway.
The silence turns sharp again.
Dangerous.
Then Crave exhales, and the sound hits me harder than it should because there’s pain in it.Real pain.The kind people usually kill to hide.
“Nyx,” he says softly.
The crow tilts its head toward him, and suddenly the air between them feels personal in a way I don’t understand. As if there’s a whole history standing between them that nobody else can touch.
I look at Rogue fast, but he’s staring at Crave now instead of the bird, something rough pulling across his expression too.
Crave gives the crow a single nod, a tiny movement, but it looks like it costs him.
Then the crow’s wings spread wide.
The force of it punches through the churchyard hard enough to whip hair across my face as it launches into the sky, black feathers ripping through the gray dawn before it disappears into the horizon completely.
Crave doesn’t move after she’s gone.
That’s the worst part.
He merely stands there staring at the empty sky with this look on his face that makes my chest ache even though I don’t fully understand why. It is like he just lost something all over again.
Beside me, Rogue finally drags in a slow breath. The churchyard around us starts breathing again too, voices slowly returning in rough little murmurs, boots moving across frozen grass.
But the feeling left behind doesn’t go away.
Because I still don’t know what those crows were.
But I do know every monster in this churchyard was afraid of them.
“You okay?” Rogue asks, against my hairline.
“Define okay? What were thosethings?”I ask.
He huffs, pulling me to him. “A long story… I’ll fill you in when we get back to the clubhouse.”
***
Crave and Rogue separate from the group a few minutes later, moving far enough to the side that the conversation is clearly not meant to be public. Their voices drop. Rogue’s shoulders carry that set, which means he’s listening more than talking, which is how I know it’s serious.
I drift in their direction without entirely meaning to.
Vampire hearing is not a gift I asked for, but it is one I have.
“… not asking you to choose.” Crave’s voice is low and without performance, stripped of the authority he wears like a second skin in a room full of people. What’s underneath it is something older and less armored. “That was never what I was asking.”
“I know.” Rogue’s voice is quiet and sure.
“The Bloodguard was never meant to replace things,” Crave says. “The oath exists because I needed someone I could trust completely. Someone who understood what I was building and would protect it because they believed in it, not because they were obligated.” A pause. “You still believe in it.”
