Lock was bored.
He stood five streets away from the target location, scent receptors heightened and ears peeled. Honestly, he didn't know why he agreed to be here. Mom was wasting away day by fucking day, and because Hunt didn't realize that immortality couldn't come back once it was gone, he grappled for the first shit stained plan little Eddie cooked up.
One that had the potential to fuck up everything the supernatural syndicates were working toward. Peace through secrecy. Humans had a penchant for testing their strength against foes too big to fall. Innocent blood wasn't worth the effort of doomed diplomacy.
Lock sneered at nothing, shifting his position further down the alley when the streetlights kicked on, yellowed peels of it stretching toward his feet on the soiled concrete. Those didn't hurt his sensitive eyes, but he didn't want to be seen. He suspected Hunter was going to lose his shit, forcing Eden and Lock to clean up after him, per usual.
While the man was a good pack leader, he almost never stayed in his lane. Taking care of problems, he really should've called his brothers for and causing more issues than solutions. Speaking of…He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and went still, staring at nothing as he listened to the commotion five doors down.
It was hard to miss.
Hunt was undoubtedly swinging his mace, and Eden said something about ghouls? Wait, ghouls? Brighton Harbor hasn't had those for over a hundred years. They were driven out by…by their mother. Oh, no. Did that mean..?
Hunt's voice cut his musing short.
"If you like this place so much, why are you letting it get beat to hell?"
Boom! Crash.
"You're the one doing it!"
Crash. Crash! Slip. Scuff.
Clang! Whoosh, whoosh…
"Hah?!"
"Get out of my city, you fucker!"
Whomp!
"Argh," Hunter exhaled, then there was silence for several long seconds.
Lock took a step toward the end of the alley, eyes widening and hands coming out of his pockets. There were still two heartbeats, one rapid and the other thudding in that normal, irritatingly slow rhythm. Even while impaled, he's cool as a fucking cucumber. Lock laughed to himself, shaking his head. Why did his elder brother have to be so damn admirable?
Pacing. Worried breaths. More pacing.
"Oh my god, are you going to die? Oh god, I killed a guy I don't even know. Wait, I don't care…ugh, but I do! I don't want your death on my conscience. You seem strong, but not strong enough to grow organs back! Shit!"
Locke leaned one shoulder against the wall with a smirk. If only the poor human woman knew the truth…Or maybe she wasn't human at all if she held the strength to wield Hunt's mace with any sort of effectiveness. The thing weighed over seventy pounds.
"Hunter," the stupid, chivalrous bozo gasped.
Lock wanted to slap a hand to his forehead.
"What?!" she asked, near hysterical.
"That's my name in case you do end up killing me, but don't count on it. Now, go out the back if you don't want the cops catching you."
"B-but Yasuo…"
"Is out back. Just go before I change my fucking mind and kill you where you stand."
"If you could, why haven't you done so already, huh?"
Whistle, shink!
"Okay, so you can kill me. Then why let me go?"
Hunt wheezed. "Because you earned it."
Hesitation, then scuffing feet, then silence.
Lock sighed and pulled his senses back in, turning so he could see both mouths of the alley from where he stood. Since the target got away from two of the most powerful supernaturals in existence, it was his turn to stop her in her tracks.
"Incompetent," he grumbled.
Lock counted the slow, monotonous heartbeats it took for the girl to sprint past him, running like a bat out of hell. That cute dog, Yasuo, was it? Ran beside her, flopping ears flying in the wind as he barked up at his owner. The split second he saw her expression, it was frantic and white as a sheet. Lock trailed along behind them, keeping close enough to scent her, but far enough she wouldn't hold a prayer of sensing his presence.
The only time she stopped for a breath was after ten whole blocks, the sirens long gone from human hearing, her form slipping into an alleyway for cover. The target's stamina impressed Lock as he tilted his head, listening to her breath and slide to the concrete, comforting her worried dog.
Lock stepped up to the mouth of the alley. The light of the streetlamp cast his pallid face in shadow, but did nothing to hide the glow of his umber gaze as he stared down at the girl. Lock clocked her sweating, bloody face, sloping shoulders, and heaving, full chest.
He inhaled, the aroma of her so lush his nostrils flared. Every breath was straight, pure magic. It poured from her, practically begging a wayward vampire to break the sacred law. Lock flitted his gaze to the rest of her body, zeroing in on the injuries seeping blood.
"Love, are you alright?"
The target stiffened, swallowed hard, and darted her eyes toward Lock, punching a hole through his stomach. Two different tones of hazel ringed in dark green. How beautiful. The full lashes framing them sent his fingertips tingling for the chance to graze his callouses.
"I'm fine. Don't worry about it."
Her tone was easy enough to decipher—get the hell away from me. Lock wasn't sure he could even if he wanted to. One part of him kept his feet tethered to the spot as he crouched a good distance away, holding onto boundaries and professionalism like a lifeline. The second part, the ancient animalistic blood rushing only in his heart, went feral. Beating so hard it hit his ribcage, urging him forward.
Telling him to heal the wounds, to taste the blood, to taste her.
"You're bleeding," he murmured, wincing at the sultry tone of his voice.
Shit.
He had a feeling getting the pendant and dashing was the best course of action right now. The longer he remained here, the worse his blood lust would become for—for a human of all things! Anger coursed through Lock's veins as he forced a deep breath, offering his black painted claws toward the loaf in invitation. He growled and nipped for a few seconds before giving in and asking for pets.
Lock smiled despite himself, gaining some mental clarity with the interaction. "Your dog, what's his name?"
"Yasuo," the girl replied.
Her voice was intriguing, to say the least. Low and smooth, like that of a bass instrument that gave more than it took from the symphony. Lock wanted to tease more words out of those lips, and maybe a few other sounds, too. At the same moment, the target reached up to cup the pendant he was after, reminding him of what was at stake.
Not his mother's already forfeit life, but his little brother's hope. Eden needed it. He needed it, damnit, and Lock wouldn't let him down.
Not this time.