Rhaegal sat in his dimly lit office, fingers sifting through a stack of case files. The pages whispered as he flipped them, but a line caught his eye—familiar, like a name you haven't spoken in years but still tastes bitter on your tongue. He stilled.
Frowning, he pushed the documents aside. Leaning over, he opened a drawer, pulled out a sealed envelope, and slit it open with practiced precision. His eyes scanned the contents, his jaw tightening with every line. He was right.
Two murders—one of a female vampire, the other… Erix. Both bodies had been dumped near Pearl Harbor, in eerily similar locations, mere meters apart. The precision was too deliberate to ignore.
He had promised Elias he'd stay clear of Erix's case, to avoid drawing suspicion. But how could he sit idle when this—this—was practically bait? Whoever orchestrated the female vampire's death had been testing the waters. And if Rhaegal stepped out now—if he, the Bureau's most feared enforcer, showed up for a case so beneath his rank—it would confirm he was hunting Erix's killer.
They were baiting him. Taunting him.
And still… he would go.
Rhaegal gathered the files and locked them away in the bottom drawer, sealing his resolve. He crossed the room to retrieve his coat from the hanger, but as he slipped it on, the ring on his finger snagged on a loose thread. He froze, his breath catching slightly.
Carefully, he unwound the thread and slid the ring off, holding it in his palm.
It was silver, aged yet gleaming, its surface carved with delicate, ancient runes. At its center, a single emerald glimmered—a perfect match for a memory that still haunted him. He turned the ring over.
R.B. & E.V.
The initials stared back, cruel in their simplicity.
His vision blurred slightly—not from tears, but from the ache of remembrance—as the memory swept in, unbidden.
******
It was snowing that night, a quiet hush blanketing the Bureau grounds. Rhaegal had been in his office, buried beneath paperwork, when the door creaked open.
A familiar voice broke the silence.
"I knew I'd find you here, Rhaegal Blackthorn."
Rhaegal looked up, startled. "Erix?"
The vampire stepped inside, the snow still clinging to his coat. His eyes—those impossibly clear emerald eyes—shone with warmth and mischief.
"I wasn't expecting you," Rhaegal said, setting down his pen.
"That's why I came," Erix replied, his smile soft, disarming.
Rhaegal walked around the desk and motioned for him to sit. He crossed to the shelf, pouring wine into two glasses, his movements slower now, savoring this unexpected reprieve.
"You've been busy," he said, returning with the drinks.
Erix accepted the glass with a faint clink. His fingers brushed Rhaegal's—barely—but it was enough to send warmth rushing up his arm.
"There's a case I've been working on," Erix said, sighing. "Messy. More complicated than it should be."
Rhaegal studied him, concern creasing his brow. "Should I be worried?"
Erix shook his head. "Not likely."
"Then let me help. We'll work it together. I'll sleep better knowing you're not walking into danger alone."
A dry laugh escaped Erix. "Rhae, we've been in danger since the day we joined the Bureau. But tonight… tonight isn't about that." He took a sip of wine. "Tonight's about you."
Rhaegal blinked. "Me?"
Erix set his glass down and reached into his coat. "Happy birthday, Rhae."
A velvet box emerged from the folds. Rhaegal eyed it like it was a live grenade.
"I didn't get you a weapon," Erix said with a sly grin. "You are more deadlier than any weapon made And you wouldn't let me buy you clothes. So… I settled for something impossible."
He handed the box over, his voice gentler now. "I had it made.
Rhaegal opened the box. Nestled inside was a ring—silver darkened with age, intricate carvings along its band, and at the top, a solitary emerald glinting like fire under moonlight.
"R.B. & E.V.," Rhaegal murmured, eyes lifting to meet Erix's.
"Our initials," Erix said, voice hushed.
Rhaegal's gaze locked on Erix's face, helpless against the pull. "You really are impossible."
"And that's why you love me."
Rhaegal rolled his eyes, but his smirk betrayed him. He turned the ring in his hand. "You didn't have to get me anything."
"I know," Erix said, leaning forward. "But I didn't want to give you something you'd bury in a drawer or forget after a century. I wanted something you'd wear. Something that stays. That reminds you of me."
"Emeralds do remind me of your eyes," Rhaegal murmured, slipping the ring onto his finger. It fit perfectly.
Erix's smile softened into something wistful. "It suits you."
"You do," Rhaegal whispered, so softly it barely carried. He stepped closer, knelt before Erix so their eyes met, and rested his forehead against the man he loved.
"Thank you," he said.
"You're welcome." Erix's fingers brushed the back of Rhaegal's neck, the other hand tracing the engraved letters. "Promise me something?"
"Anything."
"Don't take it off."
Rhaegal didn't answer with words. He just drew Erix close, arms winding around him as a quiet whisper brushed his ear.
"I love you, Rhae."
The memory faded like mist under morning sun.
Rhaegal stared down at the ring, the emerald dull now in the office light. He slid it back onto his finger, where it belonged.
Then he turned. Hung his coat back on the rack. Returned to his desk.
As much as he wanted to storm into the field, as much as his fury clawed at his composure, he knew better. Moving now would only alert Erix's killer that he was closing in.
He'd wait. Patient. Cold. Calculating.
But that didn't mean he wasn't still burning inside.
Rhaegal reached for a different case file, trying to bury himself again in work. Yet his thoughts strayed—back to the ring, and to Malin.
The incident with the werewolves. The raw panic in Malin's eyes.
Rhaegal exhaled slowly.
He didn't know if it was the weight of past grief or the sting of present fury, but he swore he wouldn't let another death taint his home.
And Malin was part of this house now.
He would protect him—no matter the cost.