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Cor has already packed his clothes into a plastic bag and is waiting close to the exit, but something on my face makes him turn back and step closer. His expression is calm but sad as he reaches out to touch my cheek with two fingers. ‟What is wrong?”

I shake my head, trying to dismiss the feeling of self-loathing. ‟Nothing. I just… I don’t know. So many people died tonight, and it feels like it’s my fault. Like I could have done more to prevent it.” Looking out at the street, I shake my head once and then look up to his solemn eyes. It’s startling to see them in color, instead of solid black, but the honey color somehow reassures me. Makes me keep talking. “I should have known the cultists would come for us again. I mean, they already knew where we were, and what did I do? Make you stay in the one spot where they would look first. They never stood a chance against you, but I could have prevented-,” I make a flapping gesture back, “-this. All of it.”

Cor nods, his fingers still lightly touching my skin. ‟You did not make them come. Or attack me,” he rumbles quietly.

‟But what if I did it on purpose, without realizing it?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head in confusion, silently.

I take a deep breath before continuing. ‟I… I think there might be something in me, some part of me, who wanted to see them dead.”

His eyes tighten slightly, but he doesn’t move his hand from my face. ‟Why?”

‟Well, for starters, that I seem to feel pretty good about them having died. Almost more than about your being safe, although that is a big part of my lack of guilt. But it’s… I’m happy they are dead. You understand?”

Cor studies me for a moment before speaking again in that slow, chopped, thoughtful way of his. It still amazes me how fast he went back to almost normal speech. ‟You are Hunter. Hunters kill the supernatural. You were trained for blood and death.”

‟Only those who break the Contract, Cor. Not every supe. And I knew, we knew, that they were aware of this place. I should have expected them to try again. So why didn’t I make us switch places?” I check my gun on instinct and take a deep breath. “And I risked your life as well, on what feels like a stupid gamble that my subconscious did for me. I’ve never been this… vindictive. It’s never felt this personal. I’m not the kind of person who is happy others are dead.”

He considers this for a moment before speaking again. ‟Is it because of me?"

My face suddenly feels very hot. We should leave, but I feel unable to move.

‟You don’t like it,” he continues when I stay quiet, ‟but the deaths were needed. You did not make them try. You protect yours, no matter what."

I let out a sigh and force myself into action. “Maybe,” I sigh, fighting hard to keep my hands down when Cor removes his fingers from my cheek and turns to leave. I adjust my jacket to cover the gun without blocking my access to it and follow Cor out of the safe-house, locking the door behind us. I pause with the key in the lock, frowning at the wood. ‟Wait a minute. Capture you? They tried to capture you?”

‟Yes. That is how they died so easily. They should have tried to kill me,” he says, sounding morbidly satisfied.

I pull out the key and throw it in the letterbox as Stanley instructed, frowning even deeper when I turn around. ‟They tried to kill me, and now they are trying to capture you, even though we destroyed the amulet. Why the hell are they so fixated on you? And why did Asha fake a breach of Contract to frame you?”

‟Frame?” For the first time, Cor sounds worried. ‟What did I do?”

‟She said you killed some vampires in a very hard to hide manner. I didn’t wait to find out the details to be honest, but Asha made it sound like you basically ripped someone apart where mortals could see it.”

‟I did.”

His casual tone makes me gape at him. ‟You broke the Contract?” My heart sinks at the thought.

Cor walks a few more steps than stops and looks back at me calmly. ‟I ripped a vampire apart, ate him. His companions came. I had to leave him and flee. There was… guts on the walls.”

Admittedly, that sounds less bad than what Asha made me think, but still. ‟Did anyone see you?”

He shrugs and turns away. ‟Maybe.”

Maybe. Maybe? How can he stay so calm when he might have broken the biggest taboo in our society? I mean, I should also care that he basically played cannibal while I was sleeping, but the Contract is another thing. It’s not about morals or my personal preferences. And as if on command, my Hunter’s mark starts itching and prickling. ‟Cor,…” I hiss, drawing my gun to point it at him. If I don’t, the mark will escalate faster than I can decide, and I will be dead. No time to think about things or discuss it through; my mind knows that Cor is probably guilty, and the magic of the mark takes away any choice I might have had. Kill or explode.

I didn’t mean to actually warn him, but this ancient vampire is not stupid. He hears me, the pain in my voice, looks over his shoulder, and disappears. I do not know how he does it, but one blink he is there, the next he is not, leaving nothing but a faint whooshing sound in his wake.

I stare at the spot where he just was and try not to pay attention to the wet streaks on my cheeks. I am not crying. I am a Hunter. Hunters don’t cry, especially not just because of a little drama. I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing. I am following my codex. Breaches of Contract have to be dealt with, no matter who commits them. It is my job. My reason for existing. I don’t have a choice. But why does it feel like I betrayed the one person who always had my back?

THE HUNTER’S MARK has stopped burning now that Cor is gone. It’s a small win, but I cannot enjoy it, no matter how much I try to tell myself I should.

Did Cor really breach the Contract, if no mortal saw the carnage? I mean, even if I were to agree with the sentiment that human life is more important than supe lives—which I don’t—he killed a vampire, not a mere person. Cannibalism, at best, if I were to look for moral high ground. Just because Asha insisted on a breach doesn’t mean there actually was one. If Cor just, for the lack of a better word, ate a vamp, no Hunter has a reason to go after him.

I am about to press Colton’s contact when my phone rings, showing his name. Speak of the devil. I accept the call and start the car, listening to the connecting ping going from my phone to the car system with a click. ‟I was about to call you,” I say instead of a greeting.

‟That makes me hope you haven’t acted on the breach assignment yet,” he replies, unbothered by my lack of courtesy. ‟Or am I too late?”