It was time to find that damn kid. But before that, Amari needed to figure out how to handle the dead body.
He froze.
Actually—he didn't need to do shit. Amari had become an entirely different person.
Sure those government fatasses knew he'd completed the serum, but they didn't have a damn clue what it did. Even if Ryse had reported him alive before ending his life, they wouldn't know where the hell he went. The vampire paced the alley with a hand on his chin.
He'd bathed in a lake on the way to the city, washed the blood off, and taken a second to actually look at himself.
His hair had gone completely gray. His eyes, blood red. His facial structure sharpened, body lean and built like a damn knife. Amari didn't even look thirty-five anymore. Maybe twenty-four at best.
Perks of being a cannibalistic bloodsucker.
With those changes, even his DNA and fingerprints had probably shifted. Even if they found the body and ran every scan, they'd come up empty. There'd be nothing to find.
The only problem was…
The vampire looked down at his blood-soaked hand and back at the body on the floor. He sighed, wiping his hand thoroughly on the clean part of the dead man's shirt before leaving the alley.
As he walked, his thoughts drifted—back to when he and Ryse used to drink at the man's house, laughing, cursing out their superior officers, talking shit about the job they'd signed up for.
Dreaming about being real soldiers before the world went to shit. They were both thirty-five—and at thirty-five one of them died.
Amari sighed and turned the corner. Up ahead stood a classic two-story home, yard still green, flag still fluttering on the porch just like he'd remembered. Only difference was the sign out front that read:
Linston Family Home.
Well. How inviting.
Amari walked up like he had a hundred times before, and knocked on the door. Waiting. A few seconds passed before the door cracked open. A girl peeked out. Couldn't be older than fifteen. Tan brown skin. Brown hair. Hazelnut eyes.
First nature, then children—gifts from the world still existed, it seemed.
"Hello?" she asked, eyes squinted. "If you're here for Ryse Linston, he's not home."
Smart. Peeking from behind the door like that. It was fortunate she had common sense. Ryse taught her well.
"Nah. Ryse sent me for you. Mind opening the door?" Amari asked, yet his request was denied.
Bang. The door slammed shut right in his face. It went about as well as he'd thought.
Amari blinked, staring at the wood. Probably should've led with something else. He waited a second, then knocked again. This time, softer.
Footsteps. She came back to the door, but didn't open it.
"What do you want?" The girl's voice muffled behind the door. Amari let out a breath.
"Ryse was a good man," he said, taking his seat on the stairs of the porch.
"You know, me and that bastard used to get drunk all the time back in the military. Our squad would get off duty, and we'd head into the city just to grab wine. Walk right back into hell and salute the same old shit stains we hated. All with a bottle in hand."
A low chuckle escaped the vampire's lips.
"That bastard Ryse really knew how to lighten things up."
He dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. Those times were long gone, and so was Ryse.
"I thought he was an idiot, holding onto that stupid hope of his. Always believed in the fucked up system we'd had. Thought things could be better."
He paused.
"Turns out, I was the idiot. For not believing in shit. Maybe if I had, he'd still be here."
His gaze lifted to the sky, blurred now from the tears sliding down his cheeks. That was the second time he'd shed tears.
"I should've believed. At least in something."
His arms folded across his chest as he rubbed them, gaze fixed into the distance. He should've believed.
As Amari sat, the door behind him clicked. The girl peeked her head out once more. Only this time, her face was twisted—tears already pouring as her wide, trembling eyes fixed onto him.
"S-so he, he's—" she choked on her words. Couldn't even finish.
Amari finished for her. "He's gone."
The tears on her face fell faster, droplets soaking the wooden floor beneath her feet.
Amari stared blankly as the girl attempted to wipe the tears as they continued to fall. She looked utterly miserable.
He stood as her small frame shook, arms raised. He gazed into her eyes, holding more war than the rebellion ever could. The damn consequence of life always had to be death.
That bastard, Ryse, was putting him through hell.
Amari stood up slowly and stepped toward her. Calm. Controlled. When he reached her, he brought her into a hug. Nothing crazy, but he hoped it helped.
"It may not be alright now, but things will get better. You'll get past this," he muttered as the girl wept violently in his arms. She was so fucking pitiful.
Amari didn't believe his own words. He wasn't sure why he'd said that bullshit. However, he wanted to believe. He was even willing to bet she did too.
But she didn't respond. She just cried, stuttering nonsense as she failed to form words.
She was a mess.
...
A soft thump echoed through the house.
Amari stood in the kitchen, the fridge door swinging shut as he pulled out a cold bottle of strawberry champagne. The kind Ryse used to bring out for celebrations. Son of a bitch said it tasted like hope. Amari never got the chance to find out.
He popped the cork with one hand, quick and easy.
Across the room, Alanna lay curled on the couch, face still puffy, eyes dull. She hadn't said a word since her breakdown on the porch. Just sniffles and silence. She didn't even ask his name.
Overall, Amari didn't give a damn.
He breathed through his nose, striding over with the bottle in hand. As he sat down on the other end of the couch, he sent her a glance. She didn't flinch.
He remembered when she was born. Ryse called him drunk off his ass, screaming something about becoming a dad. Told him his wife let him choose the name—Alanna Linston. Bastard had the dumbest grin on his face for weeks. It was the happiest Amari had ever seen him.
He took a swig from the bottle—ah, there was the hope.
"Have you eaten?" he asked.
Nothing. Just the sound of her sniffles. She didn't bother to shake her head.
Amari nodded. It was fine, he'd expected that.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Listen. I know this shit hurts. Trust me—I know. The grief won't fade quickly. Hell, even I still feel it. But you've gotta continue to live."
That got her attention. Her head lifted. Red, glassy eyes staring holes through him.
"How?" she asked, voice cracking. "He was the—he was the last one I had. What can I—how can I live life with no family?!"
She sat up fast, arms tight at her sides as she yelled it out. Her voice was small, but hot damn was it powerful.
The vampire took another swig.
"You don't," he started. "Not like you were. You meet more. You let people in. They let you in. That's how life works."
He glanced across the room, sitting back against Alanna's couch. The marble walls glinted in the low light. His gaze followed the shine to the family portrait hanging in the center of the room. Ryse, his wife, the baby in one arm. Dude even had a champagne bottle in-hand.
Amari raised his drink to it. Took another gulp.
"Look, Alanna. I'm not gonna feed you bullshit about how it gets better. Or how you should be strong. Feel what you feel. We owe him that much."
He turned his head to her again. She was crying again, silent this time. Just leaking.
"But this world is fucked," he said. "It fucks you. Then one day, it gives something back. Not always what you wanted. But something. One day, you'll feel like you're back on top. And when that happens, you'll know he'd want you there."
He stood up, didn't wait for a reply.
The bottle dangled in his hand as he walked to the stairs. The marble lining reflected bits of light as he ascended, step by step. The house hadn't changed—it still had the same old wood floors. Same goddamn layout.
Down the hallway, the first door on the left.
He stepped in.
A dusty room, clean corners. Smelled like Ryse. It even had that same motherfucking happy-go-lucky feel to it. It was just like him.
In the front corner sat a frame.
Amari walked over and knelt beside it.
It was him and Ryse. First time off duty. Both of them grinning, uniforms unzipped, bottle of champagne between them. Ryse with his stupid confident smirk. Amari's own face looked… freer back then.
He traced a thumb along the glass, and took a long, slow drink.
"You'll be missed, buddy," Amari muttered. He paused once more, and chuckled softly. "And I'm sorry… you bastard."