Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jake was acting weird.

And Sunoo couldn’t understand why no one else had picked up on that yet. It wasn’t just the dark hickeys painting his skin, which very clearly came from Riki after Sunoo asked a few careful questions. But he was fidgeting, which wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him except now he avoided their eyes, lowering his gaze when any of them turned their attention to him, and the constant checking of his phone was starting to irritate Sunoo. 

“Is it true?” The question came out in a boom, and Sunoo froze halfway to his seat. The vampire that asked the question was tall with bleached blonde hair and an expression too carefully constructed to hide his fear. 

Sunoo pursed his lips as his coven searched for something to say without immediately throwing everyone into a panic. The turnout was far better than expected—vampires from across the city gathered in the hall, registered, unregistered, and covens alike. Everything seemed to have been put to the side: territory disputes, resource trading, and even trivial coven squabbles were left meaningless in the face of their threat. 

His eyes caught on the Gray coven, who, despite all their losses, sat with their spines straight. Cody looked drained, their face tight with grief, but they clung tightly to Doyoung, who seemed to need the contact just as much as Cody. Arin nearly convinced Sunoo with her calm facade, but her knuckles were white where she gripped her chair, as if she were just barely holding herself back from fleeing. 

“Is it true?” The vampire asked again. “Have they targeted covens now?”

“Yes.” Jay’s response was quick, like he was trying to get it over with as soon as possible. “Choon Lira, member of the Gray coven, and the eighteenth victim.”

The room lost all air. 

Heads turned in search of the remaining members of the Gray coven, and when they landed, no one flinched. Doyoung and his fractured coven stared right back at the crowd, allowing them to see what remained, and the gap Lira left behind.

“If covens aren’t safe, none of us are.” Someone whispered. The words cracked something open, and everyone dissolved into chaos. 

Voices overlapped, too many for Sunoo to pick apart; questions were hurled at them, some pleading, others vicious. Sunoo sank into his chair, hands over his ears as he tried to breathe through the sudden overstimulation. Sunghoon’s hand landed gently in his hair, sliding down to the back of his neck and back up to his hair, alternating between squeezing and tugging. 

If there was one thing Sunoo did appreciate about Court meetings, it was that no one looked twice at their displays of affection. Interactions between coven members were normal, almost expected, so much so that if a leading coven didn’t show any affection or interaction between members, it could be interpreted as a coven weakness. That they were on the brink of collapse and needed to be removed. At least that’s how Heeseung explained it when he tried explaining the other reasons he hated the Underground. 

Jungwon’s head was in his hands, his thumbs digging painfully into his temples. “Enough,” he said, but it got lost in the chaos. His jaw ticked, and he slammed his fist against the table without warning. The wood splintered, cracking around his hand with a sound loud enough to cut through the noise.

Sunoo sat up straight when everyone’s eyes turned to them once more. Jungwon shook his hand, haphazardly pulling splinters from the skin, and Sunoo saw Jay twitch with the effort not to help. 

“The pattern has switched once more,” Jungwon started calmly. “Which means yes, we’re unsure who could be targeted next.” He looked at the crowd of anxious vampires. 

“It started with the unregistered,” Sunoo saw some flinch. “Then moved onto registered but solitary vampires, and now they’re attacking covens.”

A man stood, nostrils flaring, face red. “A coven member means retaliation. Why hasn’t there been any?”

Jungwon turned to look at him, and Heeseung leaned back against his chair. “And who will you retaliate against? Do you have any concrete evidence of who is murdering us? Or will you just start swinging your axe at any nearby tree and start a war we are not prepared to finish?” 

The man deflated a little before puffing up once more, wounded pride obvious on his face. “The wolves are involved—I know it.”

Heeseung’s brow rose sharply. “Are they, or is this an excuse to dig up old feuds? Don’t think I’ve forgotten your fights against them, I will not send our city into years of bloodshed against someone who is not our enemy tonight.” He turned the crowd again. “Any other accusations I should keep in mind, or shall I knock on the witches’ door and tell them to prepare their spells too?” 

Vampires were, for lack of better words, abominations of nature. Completely unnatural, a wrench in the cogs of the circle of life, and therefore against everything witches stand for. Nothing was meant to live forever, and it is for that reason that witches would never touch the affairs of vampires. Wolves wouldn’t help either; too many centuries of war and loss lay between the two species to allow any real progress, so a cold peace was what they opted for instead. As long as wolves didn’t interfere in vampire business, hunting them became punishable, and Heeseung was nothing if not a man of his word. In exchange for vampires staying away from wolf affairs, the wolves enforced borders, keeping outsiders out. Everything from hunters to rogues to threats Sunoo didn’t even want to think about never made it past them. 

“Are you sure it’s targeted? Could it not be random?” A timid voice called, and the crowd parted slightly for her. She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

Jungwon held out his hand to Jake, who dug in his pocket until he pulled out a thick stack of black cards and handed them to him. Jungwon threw a couple of them on the table, and the girl leaned over to read them, her hands clasped behind her back. 

“Each card says the victim's name. Could it have been written after their kidnapping, maybe, but either way, these victims were chosen.” His face grew somber. “Whether it was because they were easy targets or a warning of escalation, each was chosen.”

Heeseung kissed Jungwon’s knuckles briefly. “I’ve seen similar patterns before. We’re looking into it now.”

The girl tipped her head to the side, her eyes tracing the gold detailing of the cards. “So you’re saying this isn’t new?”

“No,” Heeseung said. “I don’t think it is. I think someone is trying to complete something that started during the Blood War.” His thumb dragged absently over the back of Jungwon’s hand. “The injuries are consistent and deliberate. I’ve only seen that kind of precision once before.”

“Where are you getting access to these records? The Council forbids anything predating the treaty.”

Sunoo winced, hoping Heeseung could make something up quickly. Heeseung faltered slightly, and Sunghoon stepped in with an easy smile. “We have our ways but the more people that know the more at risk you are. Plausible deniability, right?”

People shared nods, like this made complete sense, and Sunoo resisted the urge to hold up his hand for a high-five.

“And what of the blood supply regulations? How are we going to fight back if they starve us?”

Someone else piped in, “First the regulation, then the deaths. There’s no way they’re unrelated.”

Jungwon held up a hand, and this time, everyone went silent instantly. “We have a meeting set up within the week, and we’re going to negotiate on getting that lifted. They should not be controlling the blood supply.” 

Sunoo heard what he didn’t say. That the Council wants to control blood access, that restricted blood means vampires get desperate, and desperate vampires are far easier to control, or blame. 

“The blood they give tastes…weird.”

Sunoo’s head shot up. “Weird how, what do you mean?”

The speaker was a younger vampire, who looked surprised that Sunoo was speaking to him. “Uh—I don’t know—it just doesn’t taste quite right.”

“Do you have any with you?”

The vampire shook his head, flushing.

Sunoo cursed. “Is it in your system currently?”

“Uh, yes?”

Sunoo looked at Jay, who was already shaking his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Hyung, please.”

Jay made a frustrated gesture, yanking Sunoo’s arm and lowering his voice so only Sunoo could hear. “I don’t have my kit on me and even if I do, do you know how difficult it would be to separate his blood from the rationed blood? We can just get the ration later for you to test.”

Sunoo pulled free. “No, if I get it now, I can see how it interacts with his blood, his cells. We’ll be able to see if there’s something wrong with it faster.”

Jay glared at him, and Sunoo glared back. “I’m going to do it with or without your help, hyung.”

Jay looked like he wanted to say something more, but they were drawing enough attention as it was, so he turned back to the younger vampire. Sunoo snatched a bottle of water from the table and dumped it out in a nearby plant before returning to Jay’s side.

The vampire looked confused but obediently dug his fangs into his wrist and allowed Jay to catch his blood in the bottle. It filled nearly halfway before Sunoo decided that was enough. 

“Thank you.” He said, and the vampire flushed, before retreating back.

“Anything else?” Jungwon asked. 

Sunoo shifted closer, cradling the bottle. The others glanced at him but didn’t bother saying anything. All but Jake.

Sunoo sat beside him, taking care to keep his voice low. “Did Riki text you back yet?”

Jake didn’t jump, but Sunoo could feel his surprise echoing in the bond. “..No.”

“Care to fill me in?” Sunoo propped his chin on his fist.

Jake slid his phone out of Sunoo’s line of sight, an action that didn’t go unnoticed. “Not here.”

Sunoo shrugged, but was unprepared for the number of eyes on him when he turned back. “What?”

“Have you heard about this?” Jungwon asked quietly. He looked sick, almost his entire weight leaning against Heeseung, a crack he would normally never allow to be seen outside of their home, outside of their nest even. 

Sunoo couldn’t stop the feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. “Hear about what?”

“There’s a rumor going around that the Council is requiring we carry papers on us at all times to prove we’re registered. They’re threatening repercussions if we don’t comply.” Someone said,

Sunoo felt his throat close up. “They can’t do that, right?”

Jungwon didn’t respond. If this were true, every unregistered vampire in the city would be in danger. And one particular unregistered vampire had Sunoo wanting to vomit. 

“They’re treating us like livestock.” Heeseung whispered. 

Jungwon placed his hands on the table in front of him, leaning over. “We’ll implement patrol rotations, temporary alliances, and close territories. We’ll make this as difficult for them as possible.” 

“Rumor has it they’re looking for someone in particular.”

Every head in the room snapped towards the vampire speaking. Jungwon cleared his throat. “What?”

The vampire shrank under all the attention. “It makes sense though, right? They’re shutting down nearly every route not controlled directly by them, weeding out those they know and don’t. Makes it a lot harder for someone to hide.”

Sunoo thought he was going to die. After that, he didn’t hear anything else, and eventually everyone filed out, leaving Sunoo alone with his coven. 

Jungwon sat heavily in his chair, and Heeseung was quick to lean over him, whispering soft words into the shell of his ear. 

“Can you fill me in now?” Sunoo asked numbly, not even looking at Jake.

Jay’s brows drew. “Fill you in on what?”

“Not you, Jake-hyung.”

Jake spluttered when all eyes turned to him. “Me? What—”

“Hyung, please.”

Jake’s mouth snapped shut, and he chewed on his lip in contemplation. “What are the shipments? At the Veil?”

Some of the fog cleared from Jungwon’s eyes. “You’ve been to the Veil recently? Why?”

“What are they? Because Ava suggested that she run it by you when I panicked because I didn’t know what the fuck we’re shipping.”

“It’s alcohol—”

“Oh, bullshit. Then why wouldn’t I know about it? Why isn’t it on the scheduled spreadsheet on the home computer?”

Sunoo frowned. He knew nothing about these supposed shipments either. Jungwon glanced at Heeseung. “Oh, so you know what it is, too?” Sunoo said.

Jungwon didn’t answer immediately.

He straightened slowly, pulling himself away from Heeseung just enough to stand on his own. The motion was controlled, practiced—but Sunoo had already seen the crack. He couldn’t unsee it now.

Heeseung’s hand lingered at his back for a second longer before dropping.

“It’s not alcohol,” Jake said flatly. “So what is it?”

“Blood,” Heeseung said.

Jake blinked. “No shit.”

“Not Council blood,” Heeseung clarified.

That shut him up.

Sunoo frowned. “What do you mean not Council blood?”

Jungwon exhaled slowly. “It’s an unregistered supply—sourced outside their system and moved quietly through the Veil so it doesn’t get flagged.”

Sunoo’s grip tightened around the bottle in his hands. “So you’re smuggling.”

“Yes,” Jungwon said simply.

“That’s it?” Jake demanded. “That’s what you’re hiding?”

“No,” Heeseung said. And there it was again—that hesitation.

Sunoo’s stomach dropped. “What else?”

Heeseung looked at the bottle in Sunoo’s hands. “Because we’ve also been intercepting theirs.”

The room went still.

“The Council shipments?” Jay asked sharply.

Heeseung nodded once.

Sunoo’s pulse started to pound. “And?”

“It’s not safe.”

Sunoo blinked. “What?”

Heeseung exhaled slowly, like the admission had been dragged out of him. “The Council supply.”

Sunoo’s fingers went cold around the bottle. “You’re sure?”

“No,” Jungwon said quickly. “Not for certain.”

“But you think it is,” Sunoo pressed.

Jungwon didn’t respond, but that was enough.

A sick feeling curled in Sunoo’s stomach.

Jay swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Since when?”

“A few weeks,” Heeseung said. “We started noticing inconsistencies. Small things at first.”

“Define small,” Sunghoon cut in, his tone sharp.

Heeseung hesitated. “Delayed healing. Increased irritability. Addiction-like tendencies. Some…loss of control in younger vampires.”

Sunoo’s stomach dropped. “The blood,” he said slowly, “it’s doing that?”

“We don’t know if it’s the blood,” Jungwon corrected, but there was no conviction behind it now. “But the pattern lines up with distribution.”

Jake let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “So what—you think they’re poisoning us?”

“No,” Heeseung said. Too quickly. Too carefully.

Sunoo’s eyes snapped to him.

Heeseung met his gaze, and for a second—just a second—Sunoo saw it. Not doubt or fear, but recognition.

“They’re changing it,” Sunoo said.

No one denied it, and the room suddenly felt smaller.

“That’s insane,” Jay muttered, but his voice lacked heat. “Why would they—”

“To control us,” Sunoo cut in, the answer falling into place with sickening ease. “Restricted supply, altered blood—make us dependent, easier to manage—”

“Enough.” Jungwon’s voice was firm, but not harsh. “We don’t have proof.”

“No, you just have secret shipments and a whole lot of lying,” Sunoo snapped.

The words landed harder than he meant them to. Jungwon flinched. It was small, barely there, but Sunoo saw it. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

“We didn’t tell you,” Heeseung said quietly, “because if we’re wrong, we cause panic. And if we’re right—”

“—we cause a war,” Sunghoon finished.

Silence fell again. Sunoo looked down at the bottle in his hands. Dark red. Thick. Still warm.

“We can test it,” he said.

Jay groaned. “Sunoo—”

“We can test it,” Sunoo repeated, louder this time. “Right now. Compare it to the rationed supply when we get it. Look at how it reacts—cell breakdown, foreign compounds, anything.”

“You don’t have the equipment,” Jay argued.

“I don’t need all of it,” Sunoo shot back. “I just need enough to know if something’s wrong.”

“And if there is?” Jake asked quietly.

Sunoo looked up. His eyes flicked between them—Jungwon, Heeseung, Jay. Then, softer: “Then we stop drinking it."

“That’s not an option,” Jungwon said.

Sunoo’s breath caught. “What?”

Jungwon’s expression didn’t change. “If we refuse the supply without an alternative, no one will last a week. Not with the regulations tightening.”

The weight of that settled heavily over them.

Controlled blood.

Mandatory registration.

And now—

Possibly poisoned supply.

Sunoo’s grip tightened around the bottle. “Then we find another option.”

Jungwon didn’t respond. But this time, he didn’t shut him down either. 

***

Sunoo wasn’t expecting much when they arrived home, but Hanni wrestling Riki for a video game controller was certainly not even a possibility in his mind. He froze in the doorway, then turned sharply on his heel. 

“Fix that,” he said to Jungwon.

Jungwon and Jay were already moving, plucking them apart, still bickering the entire time. Hanni ducked under Jay’s arm, nailing Riki in the head with a throw pillow. Sunoo rubbed at his temples tiredly, trying to slip the bottle of blood in his pocket without anyone noticing. 

“That was quite the speech you gave. Bold considering the circumstances,” Hanni said, flipping her hair out of her face.

Jungwon glanced at her, one hand pressed to Riki’s chest to keep him pinned to the bean bag chair. “Thanks. Why are you here?”

Hanni shrugged, unfazed by his bluntness. “I figured I’d pay a visit to my favorite fledgling.”

Jungwon gave her a knowing look. “And that’s all?”

“In my defense, you took forever to get here. Court ended two hours ago.”

Riki’s eyebrows shot up, surprise coloring his expression. Jungwon’s face twitched with annoyance. “Hanni, I’m tired, why are you here?”

“Because I asked her to bring me here.”

Today was clearly not Sunoo’s day. Nova appeared in the doorway leading to the kitchen, her hair twisted into thin braids that reached her waist. Sunoo almost stopped breathing, blinking like he thought Nova was perhaps a hallucination and would disappear at any moment. Jungwon straightened, letting go of Riki, but angling himself slightly in front of him. Riki, to Sunoo’s surprise, didn’t seem startled at all, even fisting his hand in Jungwon’s shirt in an attempt to get him to move.

“We weren’t expecting you.” Jay said.

Nova didn’t speak right away. She stepped fully into the room, her gaze moving slowly—taking in the space, the coven, the way they stood in relation to each other. Her eyes passed over Jungwon. Over Jay. Over Sunghoon—and stopped on Heeseung. Just for a second.

Then she smiled. It wasn’t unfriendly, but it wasn’t exactly warm either.

“I was listening earlier,” she said lightly. “At the meeting.”

Jungwon’s posture shifted almost imperceptibly. “And here I thought we were just there to look pretty.”

“No,” Nova agreed easily, a small smile playing on the edge of her lips. “You most certainly were not.”

Hanni leaned against the wall, as if she were enjoying a show. Nova’s attention drifted back to Heeseung.

“You mentioned the Blood War.”

Heeseung didn’t move. “A lot of people do.”

“Not like that,” Nova said. She took a few slow steps forward, her hands clasped loosely behind her back. “Most people reference it like history. Something they’ve read. Something they’ve been told.” Her head tilted slightly. “You didn’t.”

Sunoo’s eyes flicked between them, his grip tightening unconsciously around the bottle hidden in his sleeve.

Heeseung’s expression didn’t change. “And how did I reference it?”

Nova’s smile sharpened. “Like you remembered it.”

Jake went still beside Sunoo, who was afraid to even look back at Heeseung. Jungwon didn’t react, just glanced down when Riki leaned on him.

Nova held Heeseung’s gaze, unflinching. “You spoke about patterns,” she continued. “About behavior. Not outcomes. Not stories.” A pause. “That’s not something you pick up from records. Especially not the ones the Council allows us to see.”

Heeseung’s jaw ticked.

“Careful,” Jungwon said quietly.

Nova didn’t look at him. “I am,” she said. “That’s why I’m here instead of answering them.”

Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed. “Answering who?”

“The others like him. His—” She glanced at Heeseung. “I’m unsure of your relation to them. Family? First coven?”

Jungwon had stopped breathing entirely, something that was clearly confusing Riki, who pressed his fingers into his wrist to check for a pulse. Sunoo caught Heeseung’s eye over Jay’s shoulder. He could either deny everything and play dumb or say something that confirmed all of Nova’s suspicions.

Heeseung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as his defenses crumbled around him. “Neither.”

Nova accepted that with a tilt of her head. “Well, either way, they reached out to me.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “And what did they want?”

“I’m not sure; I didn’t stick around long enough to check. I wanted to come here first, to see what you had to say.” Nova said with a shrug.

“They met you?” Jungwon asked, leaning forward.

“No. Letters seem to be their method of communication.”

Sunoo glanced at Hanni, who took to glancing around the room like someone trying to catalog everyone’s reactions at once. “Do you have the letter?” 

Nova pulled an envelope from her pocket and handed it to him. Even though Sunoo asked for it, he felt like it burned in his hands. 

“So I shouldn’t respond yet?”

Sunoo stared at the envelope in his hand. Heeseung cleared his throat. “I…wouldn’t. At least not until we know what they want.”

Nova pursed her lips, her fingers twisting together while she thought. “They don’t seem like they were a positive aspect of your life…before.”

Heeseung didn’t look at her, and Jay inched close enough to take his hand. “No. They weren’t.”

“Then we’ll wait for your word,” Nova said solemnly. She walked towards the door, Hanni following behind, almost running straight into Nova when she stopped short.

Nova turned quickly, her lips set in a frown as she struggled to find the words she was looking for. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what we did to your—Riki.”

Sunoo blinked, and everyone else seemed just as stunned. 

“We may have thought he was a rogue, but we should have handled it more smoothly and with less damage to his head,” she continued, and Riki snorted. She looked at him. “I’m sorry we hurt you so badly.”

Riki shrugged. “They healed. Mostly.”

Nova’s answering smile was amused, and she left before anyone else could put themselves back together. 

Once she was gone, Riki tossed himself back on the couch. “How was your meeting?”

He was met with several groans as they all decided to just collapse where they were standing. Jungwon ended up sprawled across Riki, who seemed perfectly content with the outcome, running his fingers through Jungwon’s hair. 

Sunoo stared at the letter in his hands and closed his eyes. Perhaps they just needed to move to another country.

“What does it say?”

“Do I have to?” 

Heeseung dragged himself closer until he could prop his head up in Sunoo’s lap. But he didn’t reach for the letter; instead, he wrapped his arms around Sunoo’s waist, turning his head into his stomach. Sunoo paused, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“Let’s just get it over with.” Heeseung murmured into the fabric of his shirt.

Sunoo huffed, peeling open the letter like he thought it’d bite him. He wanted to roll his eyes at the dramatic sweep of handwriting that had to be none other than Syrus’.

“To the Brood Coven, You’ve seen it already.” Sunoo couldn’t help regretting reading it already. Sunghoon sat up straight from where he originally rested against Jay’s shoulder, his eyes narrowing like he could glare at Syrus through the letter. Heeseung nudged him.

“The disappearances were never random. Eighteen names is not coincidence and I know you’re observant enough to recognize a pattern when it’s placed in front of you. The Council will call it unfortunate. They’ll call it contained. You know better.”

Jay frowned, fingers finding his temples to prod at the beginnings of a headache. Sunghoon pried one hand away, tracing invisible patterns into his inner wrist. He pressed down hard on the glands in Jay’s wrist when the vein in his temple throbbed hard enough to be audible.  Sunoo eyed them cautiously.

“The blood has changed,” Sunoo swallowed and continued. “You may not know how yet—but you’ve noticed. Everyone worth listening to has. They are tightening control. 

Deliberately: registration, rationing, dependency; this is not protection. It’s preparation.” 

Heeseung stilled in Sunoo’s lap, and he unconsciously reached down to tangle his hand in the hair at the base of his neck, tugging gently to try to tether Heeseung to the earth. 

“We are not the first to see it. Only the first willing to act. You hold influence. Your coven listens. Others follow. That is why we are speaking to you. You’ve also aligned yourself with those who remember. Be careful with that.”

“What does that mean?” 

Sunoo couldn’t see Riki, but he could hear him shifting, a near physical presence over his shoulder. He turned. Jungwon was uncharacteristically quiet, and Sunoo’s heart hurt to see that he’d pulled away from Riki completely, like he was punishing himself by refusing to allow himself comfort. 

Jay cleared his throat. “It sounds like…they’re referencing Heeseung.” 

Jake lowered his head to rest on his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs. Sunoo flagged him in his mind. Jake was never this separate, never carefully rearranged his limbs to ensure he never brushed their skin. His eyes looked dull, like he wasn’t entirely surprised by the contents of the letter but rather just wholly saddened by what their every waking moment had become.

Riki frowned, and Sunoo tugged on Heeseung’s hair again. “The Council is already searching for what it cannot account for. And for those who would protect it,” Sunoo winced but hurried on, the paper wrinkling where his hand gripped it so violently. “We are offering you clarity before they offer you consequences. We are rebuilding something that was interrupted. This time, it will not fail. You may ignore this. Many will. But when the cost of that choice becomes clear—you will know where to find us. Until then, consider carefully who benefits from your silence.”  

When he was done, there was a long moment of silence. Nothing could be heard aside from the crinkling of paper as Sunoo folded the letter and placed it back inside the envelope. He wasn’t sure where to look. Sunghoon was glaring a hole through the floor, his grip on Jay’s wrist nearly bruising. Jay didn’t look all that much better himself: his fingers had moved from his temples to tangle roughly in his hair, and the strain on the strands looked painful.  

“Who does it say it’s from?” It was more of a breath than a question, but Sunoo twisted to study Jake, who was actively avoiding the eyes of Sunghoon and Jay.

“There’s no signature,” Sunoo said carefully. “Just a dash.”

Heeseung sat up, and Sunoo found himself missing the contact. He took the letter from Sunoo’s hands, scanning it over himself before stopping at the end, staring at the place a signature should be. His eyebrows drew, eyes hardening as it would somehow make a name appear. 

Sunoo gently pulled the paper from between his fingers, and Heeseung didn’t fight him on it. “Hyung?”

Heeseung blinked, as if snapping back to himself. “I don’t understand. How was Nova supposed to know who it was from or what any of this means if they didn’t leave a signature?"

“Context clues?” Riki suggested. 

Sunoo turned, exhaustion suddenly flooding every muscle in his body, and he felt Heeseung twist to do the same. Riki glanced between them all, surprised at the weight of their full attention. 

“I mean, she figured out hyung was an Original from when he was talking about the Blood War, right? Well—maybe that was just when it clicked for her, but they were talking about finishing what they started, and it clearly wasn’t the Council that sent it.” He shrugged, fingers playing nervously with the hem of his shirt.

Jay knocked his closed fist against his forehead. “Finish what they started,” his eyes went wide for a moment. “You don’t think—”

Heeseung was already shaking his head. “They want war. And they want to win, killing off soldiers would do no good for their cause.”

Jay’s shoulders dropped, breathing out a small sigh of defeat. Heeseung barely spared him a glance. 

“I’ll go to them,” he bit out, already halfway to his feet. “See what the fuck they think they’re doing and I’ll make them—”

Jungwon flicked a tired look his way. “You’ll make them what?”

Heeseung blinked, caught off guard.

Jungwon hummed, like Heeseung silently confirmed a theory he’d held for a long time. “We still have something they don’t. We have the vampires’ trust. We still hold influence. Nova coming to us with the letter is proof of that.”

“So then what do we do?” Jay asked.

Jungwon growled, a low, frustrated sound, and stood. “We do nothing. We go to our meeting with the Council, we fix the blood problems and then, maybe, maybe, I will have some brain capacity to deal with the Underground and their bullshit.” He stormed out, leaving a dark cloud in his wake. 

Sunoo’s eyes returned to the letter, safely sealed in its envelope. It was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode, and Sunoo found himself uncaring. He stood, taking it with him to the office and locking it in one of the desk drawers.

He left without looking back. 

As if ignoring it would keep it from catching up.

***

“Would you feed from me? If I asked you to?”

Heeseung glanced up from the stack of files he had buried himself in, startled. “What?”

Riki let his head loll to the side, silently scrutinizing. Heeseung stared back, mildly confused but open to Riki’s searching. He sighed, sitting up to lean over the back of the couch, arms dangling in front of him. “Would you feed from me?”

Heeseung’s eyebrows drew, and he set down the file he was holding. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Your echo thing—the seeing memories from blood, that would work on me, right?” Riki asked, entirely ignoring Heeseung’s answering question. 

“So that’s what this is about? You want to use my echo?”

Riki shrugged.

“Why?”

Riki lowered his eyes, suddenly very interested in the bed of his nails. He heard Heeseung pick up his annoyingly bright red pen again, along with his file. 

The faint sound of pen on paper filled the space between them until Heeseung said, “I won’t use my echo if you won’t even tell me what you’re looking for.”

Riki glared, even if Heeseung couldn’t see it, and turned over his options. “I want to see if you can find out how I turned,” he settled on.  

Heeseung froze, his grip tightening on his pen until he had to put it down, or risk breaking it. “I can’t control the echo.” He said without turning.

“That’s fine.” Riki watched him, trying to read past the tense line of his shoulders and the strained tendon in his jaw. 

Heeseung sighed, finally turning in his chair to face him. He cracked a small smile at the sight of Riki practically hanging off the back of the couch. He reached out, the back of his forefinger gently grazing Riki’s cheek. “I’ve never been able to control it, baby. It—I might see it, or I might catch a glimpse into your childhood instead. It’s a roll of the dice.”

“I don’t need you to promise me the universe right now. I just want you to try.” 

Heeseung seemed to consider it, and Riki bit back a wince at the nearing unbearable pain that shot through his gums. His fangs dropped, cutting his tongue. He flinched at the sharp tang of copper that filled his mouth. He tongued at his sore gums, his jaw aching.

He couldn’t understand it. It had started as a mere prick at first, and Riki had thought he’d bitten into something wrong. But it persisted, growing into an ache that seemed to plague his mind, taking up every other thought. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

Riki blinked. Jay was standing over him, brows drawn in concern.

“Nothing.”

Jay didn’t look like he believed him for one moment. He cupped Riki’s cheek, frowning. “Why have your fangs dropped?”

Riki pulled away, shrugging. Heeseung was staring with interest and mild concern, but he didn’t interrupt. Riki opened his mouth to defend himself and had to close his eyes to bear the wave of pain in his mouth. 

Jay was quick to cup his face, his touch soothing. Riki couldn’t help but lean into it. “Where does it hurt?”

Riki gestured towards his mouth, blinking through dark spots in his vision. 

Jay traces his lips gently, fingers sliding up to press against Riki’s fangs from the outside. “Here?”

Oddly enough, the pressure on his mouth brought Riki no additional pain. In fact, it brought…relief. But Riki could attribute that to Jay being the one touching him.

Jay’s frown softened to a gentle smile the longer he watched Riki melt into his touch. He rubbed circles into the area, his voice pitching lower with affection. “How long have your fangs been hurting, baby?”

Riki didn’t have the energy to shrug or pretend his mouth didn’t feel like it was about to implode. “A while…maybe a few weeks at most.”

Jay clicked his tongue. “You’re an idiot,” he said, but his words held no bite. 

Riki almost whimpered when Jay pulled away. Heeseung pulled him close, replacing the pressure on his mouth. “You should’ve told us,” he whispered.

“It didn't feel like a big deal.” Riki said, but it came out mumbled against Heeseung’s fingers. 

Jay came back, holding a bright red popsicle. Riki barely noticed it at first, not until Jay pressed the cold treat against his cheek, startling him out of Heeseung’s hold. 

“Eat this.”

Riki took it without a second thought, putting the popsicle in his mouth before Jay could say anything more. The sweet taste of the treat burst against his tongue, something distinctly Jay. Heeseung and Jay watched him carefully, but Riki was too focused on the pleasing numbing sensation the popsicle had on his gums. 

“Better?” Jay asked. 

Riki nodded, his fangs slowly receding back into his gums. Jay smiled approvingly when he noticed. Riki waited until the popsicle was small enough to talk around before speaking. “Did you make this out of your blood?”

Jay flushed a little, eyes downcast. “Sunoo thought you’d go through this earlier than most, so we wanted to be prepared, but at the time you weren’t drinking anything aside from our blood. Ninety percent is actually Sunghoon’s blood.”

“What is ‘this’?” Riki asked, but he had a feeling he didn’t really want to know. 

Jay pursed his lips, as if he were searching for an answer. Heeseung saved him, wrapping a casual arm around his waist. “Think of it like vampire puberty.”

Riki’s face dropped, unamused. “Excuse me?”

Heeseung laughed, and Riki’s heart tripped over itself at the sound, although he kept his face neutral. Heeseung’s eyes were unbearably fond, and he splayed his fingers across Riki’s knee, contact simply for contact’s sake. 

"When you’re a fledgling, your fangs are weaker—smaller—so feeding is…messier.” Riki was almost dragged back to the night in the alley, covered in blood and shaking with fear, but Heeseung’s hand on his knee ripped him right back to the present. “But as you get older, your fangs grow stronger, like how children lose their baby teeth to make room for adult teeth. It's just more painful.”

Riki stared at him. “These things are going to fall out of my face?” he asked, incredulous. 

Heeseung’s smile widened. “No, oddly enough. But you did get the short end of the stick, most don’t go through this until they turn ten, at least.”

“Amazing.” Riki muttered sarcastically, placing his trash in Jay’s extended hand. 

When he came back, his arms were crossed over his chest. “We’re leaving tonight, are you going to be okay?”

Riki shrugged, leaning back against his chair, and purposefully not answering.

Jay pressed his fingers into his temples. “Just don’t go on some death mission again, please.”

“What if I liked my adventure last time?”

Jay’s eye twitched, but Heeseung placed a calm hand on his arm. Jay paused for a moment before relaxing completely, and Riki followed the movement with his eyes. 

“What were you saying about feeding? Are we out of blood?” Jay asked, his voice noticeably calmer. 

Riki blinked, a little startled but trying not to show it. “No,” he glanced at Heeseung. “I just wanted hyung to feed from me.”

Jay’s eyebrows shot up, and he glanced between Riki and Heeseung with curious eyes. “Any particular reason?”

“Maybe he can see how I turned,” Riki said, ignoring Heeseung’s burning stare on the side of his face. “I saw the camera records Sunoo has saved. I know something’s up.”

Heeseung sighed, as if the topic weighed on him. “And if I take too much searching for that memory?”

“You won’t,” Riki said, at the same time Jay whispered, “I won’t let you.”

Heeseung glared at him, like he’d expected Jay to take his side. But Jay just shrugged, his posture set in exhaustion. “It’s worth a try, we’re running out of options.”

Heeseung’s mouth set into a hard line, but Riki could already see he had won. He inched closer, brushing his knuckles against Heeseung’s arm. “Please, hyung?”

“I hate that you can do that.” His voice came out muffled and tired, like the admission had been dragged out of him against his will. With his other hand, he beckoned Riki closer. Jay shifted slightly, positioning himself out of their way but close enough to touch should they need him. 

Riki sat close, his legs straddling Heeseung’s hips, tapping his fingers impatiently against the fabric of Heeseung’s jeans. “So now what?”

Heeseung’s hand gripped the back of his neck, dragging him close. “Stop talking.”

His fangs punctured Riki’s skin before he had time to think of a response. Riki’s hands clenched against the material of Heeseung’s shirt. It hurt for the briefest moment before dissolving into an almost numb pleasure. All of his senses tunneled down to just Heeseung. Heeseung’s thumb stroking the back of his neck. Heeseung’s body tensing beneath him every other second. Heeseung’s blood running through his veins, and the bond that connected him to nearly everyone in the house. 

It became a near physical thing, the bond. It floated above their heads, and Riki could see where Heeseung connected with each of them, the emotions that ran freely between them, the memories, the things he had blocked. It was…beautiful. He wanted to touch it. Would it bend around his touch, as unyielding as oil is to water? Or would it wrap around his wrist, bathing him in its glow? It was more than a need. He was desperate. 

He couldn’t have been more than a hair’s breadth away when he was ripped away, and the bond fell through his fingers like sand. Heeseung’s hands dropped from his body, and Riki nearly fell off his lap without the additional support. Jay was quick to stabilize him with a flat palm on his back, his concerned gaze shifting between Riki and Heeseung, like he was unsure who to check on first. 

He settled for some combination of both, running his hand up and down Riki’s spine as he asked, “So I’m guessing it wasn’t all that good?”

Heeseung’s eyes clouded over for a moment, and he gently pushed Riki off his lap. Riki watched, bewildered, as he carefully picked up his papers and pen, tucking the items under his arm like he was preparing to move elsewhere to continue his work. “I didn’t see anything. At least not anything useful.”

Jay frowned, slamming his hand down on one of the files Heeseung went to grab next. “Do you want to try that again without lying this time?”

Heeseung’s eyes flickered with surprise, and Riki propped himself against the back of the couch to watch and lick his wounds in silence. The subtle rejection stung more than Riki was willing to admit. He couldn’t think outside of Heeseung’s hands, pushing him away or how quickly he refused to touch him, not even sealing the still-bleeding wound on his neck. His head felt static, far too loud and distracting for him to focus beyond the muffled sounds of Jay and Heeseung arguing. 

He could feel himself falling backward onto the couch cushions. Or maybe he was being moved; he wasn’t quite sure. Someone else had entered the room too; their scent was so familiar, so warm, but Riki couldn’t focus long enough to pinpoint exactly who it was. But Riki knew he was safe, that Jay and Heeseung were safe, and for now, that was enough.

Someone’s palm pressed firmly against his throat, and Riki felt a blood bag being pressed against his lips. He accepted it without thinking, driven entirely by instinct and the overwhelming desire to be rid of the static in his brain. The blood washed over his tongue, carrying the distinct, heavy taste of human. Riki frowned, but at least some of the dots in his vision were fading. His hearing returned to him first. The immediate thing he noticed was the steady heartbeat right beneath his ear, followed closely by Heeseung and Jay’s attempt to argue while whispering. Everything else slammed into him, leaving the lights far too bright to be humane and his clothes feeling itchy against his skin.

Jake peeled his hand away from Riki’s neck, carefully poking around the healed area. He didn’t seem at all phased at the fact that Riki was now lying on his chest. Jake smiled, fingers still tracing the spot Heeseung had bitten him with something Riki didn’t recognize. 

“You okay?”

Riki sat up slowly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Jake hummed, but it didn’t sound like he believed him fully. Jay had his back to Riki, his arms crossed as he looked Heeseung over. He sucked in a breath before releasing it slowly.

“I’m not going to pretend I know how your echo works. I’m not even sure you know. But what I do know is you, and I know when you’re lying.” He let his arms fall to his sides, fidgeting with the seam of his pants. “I’m just confused.”

Heeseung blinked at him slowly. “I didn’t see anything specifically. I saw flashes, bright lights, pain, and blood, but that was all.”

They all turned to Riki, like they were expecting him to have the explanation in his pocket. He didn’t. He didn’t remember anything Heeseung was describing. Riki shook his head before they could get a word out. Jay’s shoulders dropped, like he wanted—needed it to be more. He turned, reaching out to cup Riki’s cheek in a silent check-in. 

“You’re good?”

Riki nodded, pulling away from his touch. “I’m fine.” He repeated. 

Jay didn’t say anything more, leaving the room with Heeseung in tow. Jake hooked his chin over Riki’s shoulder. “We’re leaving tonight.”

Riki raised an eyebrow without looking at him. “So I’ve heard. Where to?”

“The Veil, we have a meeting with the Council.” Jake said.

Something in Riki’s chest wavered. “You’re not going back on our deal, are you?”

Jake’s face didn’t change; he simply leaned back, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind Riki’s ear. “No, but I don’t think you should go out tonight, at the very least not to the Veil or the sites.”

Riki stayed silent, neither a confirmation or denial that he was going to heed Jake’s warning. Jake seemed to sense that, leaning back against the arm of the couch to watch him. “I found out what the shipments are. The ones going to the Veil.”

Riki, despite himself, turned. Jake was gazing up at the ceiling now, his fingers picking at the skin of his nail beds until they bled. Riki didn’t even have to say anything, just tapped Jake’s thigh twice for the vampire to sit up, his eyes now fixated on the background behind Riki.

“They’re smuggling blood,” he said, “Heeseung-hyung and Jungwon. And they’re intercepting Council-sanctioned blood.”

Riki’s nose wrinkled, his mouth turning downward in a frown. “Why?”

“They think it's poison.” Jake spat out, the acid in his tone nearly making Riki flinch back.

“And you don’t think it is?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them. Sunoo’s trying to look into it right now but resources are running low.”

Riki didn’t know how to answer, didn’t know if he could. This felt like both far too much and far too little information at once. But he did know that he could smell the anxiety pouring off of Jake in waves, hear how his heart tumbled over beats, and see how loud his thoughts were, how they were practically pouring out through his eyes. As calm as Jake tried to act, he was an open book. Riki took his hand, carefully kissing his injuries. Jake’s heartbeat slowed, even if a fraction, his scent evened out slightly, and his face broke out in a smile, however small. 

Maybe it wasn’t a lot, but Riki wouldn’t let him suffer alone.

*** 

Sunghoon knew it was going to be a long night before they even set foot in the Veil. Jungwon was leading the way, as usual, his face set in a carefully practiced neutral expression, something Sunghoon and the others only ever saw when they were doing something involving business. The moment the bouncers opened the door for them, Sunghoon was hit by the blaring music; it was loud, almost unbearably so, and the smell of sweating, moving bodies was overwhelming. He kept his face impassive, and luckily for him, the crowd seemed to part for them, only a few people stopping to stare and whisper. The air was filled with scents, both vampire and human, and if Sunghoon paid close enough attention, he could detect notes of blood, illegal, but what did he care? 

A hand on the small of his back prevented him from running into a pole, stopping his train of thought. Heeseung’s arm tightened on his waist as they climbed the stairs, tugging him into their private room. 

They were already waiting for them, cups in hands, drinking alcohol they didn’t pay for, and giving suggestions no one asked for. There were six of them, and Sunghoon couldn’t help but think they were trying to match their numbers. Four men, two women, each dressed in a suit with not a wrinkle in sight. It made Sunghoon stiffen slightly, the level of ease and comfort they were displaying. Like Sunghoon should be the uneasy one. He only recognized two of them: Councilwoman Sung and Councilman Han.

The contrast in their dress did not evade Sunghoon’s notice. The six of them were dressed as if they themselves were there to dance and drink, all tailored to their specific tastes, of course. Jungwon made his way to the long table, sitting at the head. They followed, fanning out around Jungwon to sit in the seats closest to him, Heeseung directly to his right. The council members occupied the other half of the table, a good distance away from them. Councilwoman Sung sat at the opposite end, directly across from Jungwon. Sunghoon’s eye twitched at the subtle challenge. 

“You’re late.” She said. Her hair was short, cropped just above the collar of her suit, and her eyes watched them as they entered. 

Jungwon flashed her an easy smile, “I’m aware.”

They lapsed into silence, and Sunghoon shifted uncomfortably, stealing a glance at Jungwon. Jungwon looked bored, like the meeting was a waste of his time and he was just there simply because he couldn’t manage to get out of it. He was perfectly in control, even with the overwhelming presence of the council, and Sunghoon relaxed slightly. 

“This is an interesting place to hold a meeting.”

“What? You don’t like our Veil?” Jungwon leaned back in his seat, the picture of ease and comfort, “After all, I thought, maybe, you would be nicer to me if it was on my home turf.”

Councilwoman Sung’s gaze sharpened, and she regarded Jungwon carefully but didn’t say anything to either confirm or deny Jungwon’s claim. Heeseung shifted, pulling out files and laying them out on the table.

“Why don’t we talk?” Jungwon’s smile was sharp at the edges, and Sunghoon could even see the tips of his fangs.

Sunghoon tried to pay attention; he tried to be an active participant, but his eyes just kept being drawn back to the crowd below. People were dancing, drinking, all of the above, and Sunghoon watched them, drinking in their movements, their interactions. There were people pressed up against each other, so close that Sunghoon wasn’t sure how they were able to breathe. But they didn’t seem to care, too caught up in their world of alcohol and blood to notice. He watched, allowing the conversation in the room to wash over him until he felt a tug in his chest. Almost like someone was physically pulling the breath from his lungs. It wasn’t very strong, in fact, for a moment Sunghoon convinced himself he had made it up entirely until it came back again. Stronger; nearing painful.

Sunghoon winced, resting his hand on his chest. He glanced around the table.

Sunoo was shifting subtly, his hands gripping the chair with such force that Sunghoon was sure it would splinter. The muscles in Jay’s neck were flexing intermittently, and Jake was rubbing small circles on his chest like he was trying to alleviate pain. Sunghoon snuck a look at Jungwon and noticed his ticking jaw immediately. 

It pulled at his chest again, this time with enough power that a grunt forced its way past his lips. Heeseung laid his hand on Sunghoon’s back. It was meant to be a soothing gesture, but Sunghoon could feel the way his hand trembled against his skin. 

It didn’t make sense; everyone was here. Jake made a small sound at the next wave of pain, and Sunghoon blinked through the dizziness. It wasn’t coming from anyone in the room; it couldn’t be, but that left…oh fuck. Sunghoon pulled his phone out of his pocket, calling Riki’s contact as soon as he opened the device. 

It rang once, twice, three times, and then Sunghoon was sent to voicemail. He cursed quietly, trying again to no avail. 

“He’s not picking up.” He said it low enough that only the six of them could hear it. 

“What do you mean he’s not picking up?” Jay kept his head facing the council, like he was concentrating on the conversation, but all of his attention was on Sunghoon. 

“I mean he’s not answering his phone.” 

Sunghoon felt Jungwon tense beside him before he saw it, and the air around them got that much thicker. The Council shifted under the weight of the new atmosphere, unaware of its change or why it was happening. 

There was a brief knock at the door before it swung open, startling everyone. Ava practically ran in, her heels clicking against the floor and her hair disheveled. She paused when she saw the Council in the room, swallowing heavily before her eyes fell on Jake. 

“He’s here, Mr. Sim. And there’s a…situation,” She said.

Jake blinked before his eyes lit up with clarity, and Sunghoon felt his stomach curl with panic that was not his. Part of him couldn’t believe it. Jake had marked Riki. Jake had marked Riki. It was within the system of the Veil, but still. How had they never known about this? And if Riki was marked, that meant that this was not the first time he’d been inside the Veil. 

Sunghoon’s eyes swept over the crowd of people again. This time, though, he wasn’t watching; he was searching. Riki was an idiot sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid. Right? Regardless, he searched every face, every swaying body. Then something caught his eye. There were two men towards the back of the club, away from the dance floor. Both were dressed in dark clothing, but it was the one on the right, the one with his back to Sunghoon, who stood out to him. He was dressed in a dark sweater, much too big for his frame, and dark jeans. He was tall and clearly uncomfortable. The other man had a grip on his arm, pulling him further away from everyone else. Riki. 

He stood up suddenly, but he only really startled the humans sitting across from Jungwon. He tried to move casually, like he wasn’t ready to tear someone’s throat open, and in his opinion, he was doing a fantastic job at it. Sunghoon brushed his fingers lightly across the back of Jungwon’s neck, something that could go unnoticed, but he knew Jungwon would know what it meant. He walked out of the room with Ava hurrying alongside him, explanations and apologies falling from her lips, but Sunghoon barely heard her. He stopped right before trying to make his way through the crowd, insisting she was fine before disappearing through the groups of people. He pushed past them, brushing off the ones who clung to him or tried to grab his attention.

Sunghoon didn’t see the man at first. He only saw Riki—his posture sharp with tension, his jaw clenched, his body twisting just enough that it looked like he was resisting something.

Then the man stepped from the shadows, his hand still locked tight around Riki’s arm, guiding him toward a darker corner of the club. Sunghoon’s heart snapped into a sprint.

“Let go of me,” Riki was saying, loud enough to be heard over the music, low enough to still be dangerous.

The man didn’t. He said something back—something Sunghoon couldn’t hear—but Riki snarled in response, eyes flashing.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

It was almost enough to make Sunghoon pause. Almost. Because even surrounded, even outmatched, Riki didn’t shrink. He was coiled like a spring. A live wire. Sunghoon could feel the heat of him from feet away—like he was about to set the entire place on fire.

And still, he was shaking. Tiny tremors at the edge of his restraint. Sunghoon moved. Fast.

His hand wrapped around Riki’s waist in one smooth motion, pulling him back, marking him without question. 

Riki jerked in surprise—but the second he recognized the touch, he stilled. His back hit Sunghoon’s chest and didn’t leave it.

“Hyung,” Riki said, voice low but Sunghoon could feel the relief in it.

Sunghoon didn’t respond. Didn’t have to. His hand slid up Riki’s arm, gently but firmly, and pried the stranger’s fingers away one by one.

“Touch him again,” Sunghoon said, voice cold and steady, “and I’ll take the hand with me.”

The man looked like he wanted to argue, but then he looked at Sunghoon’s face, no longer shadowed behind Riki. He paled, his mouth opening uselessly with excuses Sunghoon was far past hearing. Sunghoon bared his teeth.

“Go. Before I take back my decision to let you live.”

The stranger disappeared, shaking as the doors closed behind him. Sunghoon relaxed his grip on Riki’s waist, not aware how tight it had become. He turned them around, guiding Riki through the crowd and toward the stairs.

Riki didn’t speak. Didn’t look up. But his chest was rising fast. His hands clenched at his sides.

Sunghoon didn’t say, you’re okay. Didn’t say, you’re safe now. Instead, he murmured, “You did good.”

Riki huffed out a breath like it hurt to hear that. Sunghoon pulled him closer as they climbed the stairs.

Upstairs, the thrum of the music dulled. But Sunghoon’s pulse didn’t. He got them into a private room—some VIP office that overlooked the main floor. Locked the door behind them. He didn’t speak. Riki leaned back against the desk, arms crossed, jaw tight. 

He looked fine. Which was exactly the problem.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Sunghoon’s voice came out low, shaky with all the things he wasn’t saying.

Riki lifted a brow. “You left me behind; what was I supposed to do?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Sunghoon crossed the room in two steps. “You followed us into an area you knew nothing about. Do you even have enough control to be here right now? Do you even know who is here? The Council—”

Riki pushed off the desk. “And what? You think I can’t handle being in the same building as your politics?”

“It’s not politics, Riki. It’s survival.” His voice cracked on it. “They weren’t supposed to know about you. Any of them. Not yet.”

Now Riki looked uneasy. Not scared. Not apologetic. Just quiet.

“Jungwon didn’t want this,” Sunghoon said. “He didn’t want you in this world—but the moment they see you—really see you—there was no taking it back.” He took a shaky breath. “Now they know your face. They’re going to think you’re bonded to us. And they’ll know you’ll follow us even when we say no.”

Riki’s gaze didn’t waver. But his shoulders were a little tighter now. His wrist was still red from where the man had grabbed him. Sunghoon reached for it before he could stop himself, his fingers brushing over the bruise with surprising gentleness.

“You weren’t supposed to be on their radar,” he whispered.

Riki didn’t pull away. “I’m…sorry.”

Sunghoon exhaled. “Come on. We have to go up. They're waiting for us and they’re anxious enough as it is.”

Riki didn’t move. “Will Jungwon be mad?”

Sunghoon paused. Then: “Yes. But he’s more scared than angry.” He opened the door, and Riki followed.

The short journey back to the boardroom felt colder than when Sunghoon had left, and he suppressed a shudder. Everything suddenly felt tight, and Sunghoon found himself searching the shadows of the room, like something was going to jump out at them at any given moment. This was their club, even swallowed in shadow and blue light, cordoned off from the pulsing heat of the dance floor—it was supposed to be safe. But nothing felt safe anymore. 

He paused outside the door, and Riki froze with him, eyes darting questioningly between Sunghoon and the only obstacle that separated them from the brewing disaster on the other side. “Listen to me very carefully.”

“I—?”

“No. Riki, I’m serious. Don’t look at them. Don’t talk to them.” Riki opened his mouth to argue again, “Jungwon or one of us will handle it.” Sunghoon pushed open the door, and Riki’s mouth snapped shut. 

Their voices were low, sharp, and measured. Jungwon stood at the head of the table, every inch composed. When Sunghoon entered with Riki just a step behind him, the room shifted. Subtle. But immediate. Eyes turned. Jungwon didn’t. Not at first.

He kept speaking, calm as glass. “—our security measures are already tighter than council requirements. We haven’t had a single breach in over a year.” Then he looked up; eyes finding Riki immediately, and Sunghoon saw Jungwon’s shoulders relax just a fraction. 

“And who, exactly, is he?” Councilwoman Sung asked with a tilt to her head. 

Jungwon didn’t answer right away.

Riki flinched under their harsh stares and tone, but he stayed silent, and Sunghoon felt an odd surge of pride. Jungwon didn’t raise his voice, didn’t blink, didn’t rise. He simply lifted one hand, gesturing to him.

“Come here.”

Riki blinked, hesitating. But then he moved, crossing the room as the gravity changed. Like it was a trap he was choosing to step into anyway. When he reached Jungwon, he found a chair there already—placed so precisely beside Jungwon’s own it might as well have been part of the throne. Jungwon reached out, fingers curling around Riki’s wrist, his eyes flicked to the bruises, just for a breath, and then he tugged him gently but firmly down into the seat beside him.

As soon as Riki sat, Jungwon’s hand dropped to his knee. Not light or soft, just…present. Possessive. His other arm returned to the table, as if nothing had shifted, as if Riki had always been meant to sit there.

Riki didn’t speak. Didn’t lean in. He sat straight, eyes down, his hands fisted in his lap. But he didn’t move Jungwon’s hand. Riki’s gaze flicked toward Jungwon once—barely. Like he wanted to ask something, or maybe demand something. But whatever it was, he swallowed it down. Sunghoon passed them, squeezing the back of Riki’s neck as he did so. He fell into the seat beside Heeseung again, but his eyes were on Riki, gauging his reactions, trying to get a read on his emotions.

“You’re asking questions,” Jungwon said, voice cold, smooth, “as if he doesn’t already belong to me.”

Silence. Jake shifted in his seat, not looking at either of them, and Sunoo’s lips pressed tight, but he said nothing.

Councilwoman Sung leaned forward, her hands folded in front of her, “Unregistered and in the lap of a coven leader? Bold.” Her eyes were boring through Riki, and Jungwon tightened his hold on him.

“He’s new. He recently came to the country, we haven’t submitted the paperwork yet.” Jay said.

“New?” The other woman hummed, her eyes calculating. 

Jungwon’s smile was razor sharp, but it faltered slightly when someone threw a file on the table, sliding it to Jungwon. “That’s fine, we have it right here.”

Jungwon snagged a stray pen off the table and leaned back against his chair, holding it out to Riki. “Sign it.”

Riki moved as if hypnotized, taking the pen from Jungwon and opening the file. For a moment, the only sound that filled the room was the pen scratching against the paper. Riki hunched over the documents, Jungwon’s hand resting on the back of his neck. 

When Riki sat up again, he turned to Jungwon, his voice hushed, “Hyung, it says you need to sign this part.”

Jungwon hummed, squeezing lightly before letting him go, “I got it, baby.” The word slipped out too easily. Too naturally. For a second, no one moved. Jungwon didn’t correct himself. Didn’t look at Riki. But Riki stilled—barely. His posture went rigid like he couldn’t decide if he’d imagined it. The council didn’t flinch. If anything, the term only cemented the illusion of an intimate bond.

But Sunghoon saw it. Jay did too. They clocked the slip for what it was. Not calculated, or performative, but just real enough to make everything worse. Jungwon refused to look at them, handed the paper to Heeseung, and moved it clockwise until everyone had signed. Jungwon took possession of it again at the end, appraising it before sliding it back to the council as they had. 

Councilman Han took it, eyes widening in surprise as he scribbled something else on the corner, something Sunghoon couldn’t see. He tucked the file into his bag, attention returning to the coven. 

Jungwon cleared his throat, “There, now he’s registered. Now if we can get back to—”

Another councilman leaned forward, “Where’s his mark?”

Jungwon froze, “What?”

The councilman grinned, like he had won a prize, “You claim to be a bonded coven; you claim he’s yours. But where’s his mark?” 

All eyes turned to Riki, to his unblemished neck, bare compared to the rest of the members of the coven. Sunghoon racked his brain, trying desperately to come up with a reason why Riki hadn’t been marked yet.

“How and when I mark the members of my coven is none of your business.” Jungwon laughed without humor, as if the question were ridiculous. 

Heeseung drew attention to himself, “We’ve been preparing.”

The council exchanged looks, like they had succeeded in their mission to catch them in a lie. Jungwon’s jaw clenched. His hand flexed on Riki’s knee. Sunghoon saw it too late—the tell, the crack. And then Jungwon moved. Sunoo let out a little gasp, and Sunghoon snapped towards them, nearly cursing at the sight.

Jungwon had pulled Riki practically into his lap, his fangs buried in the other’s neck, pulling the blood from his veins in the distinct area only covens feed from. Just before Heeseung reached to place a hand on Jungwon’s arm, he pulled back. Riki’s eyes fluttered open, dazed. Jungwon pulled him back, eyes darting over his face in quick zig-zags, like he was silently reassuring himself that Riki was okay. He let Riki fall back in his seat, his thumb swiping at the open wound, catching the last drop of blood and bringing it to his mouth. 

Sunghoon turned to the council again, prepared to start damage control if it didn’t go over well. But they sat there, shocked, like they had no other choice but to believe Jungwon. Not after he drank from Riki like that.

There was a beat of silence. The coven stood stalk still, except for Jungwon, who rubbed small circles into the side of Riki’s neck

“Now that that’s resolved…there’s been concern about the missing vampires. The deaths.”

Sunghoon saw it. The slight twitch of Jungwon’s jaw. The flash in Jay’s eyes. Concern. That’s what they were calling it. As if they hadn’t ignored every report. As if nothing was being done about it.

“We’d like to hear your coven’s perspective,” another councilor said. “You seem… particularly aware of local unrest.”

Jungwon’s posture didn’t change. But the cold in his silence was enough to make even Sunghoon shiver.

Then he shifted slightly. Not toward the council. Toward Riki. “Sunoo.” The sound of his name startled the other vampire. “Take him downstairs.”

Sunoo looked uncertain, but Riki didn’t move.

“Hyung,” he said carefully, “I already know.”

“I know.” Jungwon’s voice stayed level. Which somehow made the room colder.

“Then why does he need to leave?” one of the councilors asked.

Jungwon finally looked at them. “Because,” he said softly, “you don’t get to look at him while we discuss this.”

Riki’s heartbeat stumbled over itself.

“Go downstairs,” Jungwon repeated, gentler this time. “Please.”

That finally did it.

The door closed behind them with a soft click. Jungwon finally turned back to the council.

“Let’s talk about the bodies.”

Sunghoon strained to hear any sound from Sunoo or Riki. Riki’s heart was beating hard, and Sunoo was whispering something, but Riki never responded. Heeseung’s hand lay heavily on Sunghoon’s thigh, forcing him back into the conversation. Everyone was looking at him, and Sunghoon shifted uncomfortably. Jay slid him one of the many files on the table, mouthing ‘Lira’.

He took the file, cringing at the photo on top. “Choon Lira went missing in March,” He threw the photo on the table, facing the council. A girl, twisted on the concrete, her skin a near grey color, and her face bruised. “Turned up dead a week ago.”

“Her body was drained.” Jay spoke quietly, his eyes on the photos, “She was a part of the Gray Coven.”

The council looked at him as if to say, ‘And?’ Sunghoon tried to take a calming breath, focusing on the warmth of Heeseung’s hand. “Every other victim had been a stray, no coven, no connections. Easy targets.” Jake displayed photo after photo, each victim in a similar state: bruised, battered, drained. “Lira is the first to be a part of a coven.”

They hummed, “We’re doing everything we can—”

“Are you?” Jungwon’s voice was hard, sharp. It made everything in the room stop, like everyone was afraid to even breathe. “This is the sixth victim this month, and yet you have made no progress in finding who did this.”

Councilwoman Sung held out her hand, “Jungwon—”

“They are getting bolder. My people are dying! Someone is killing us and you are doing nothing!”

“We are doing everything we can.”

Jungwon had his hands braced against the table, his breathing fast, pupils blown. He wasn’t posturing anymore. He was grieving, “You are doing nothing. I will not wait until my coven is next—so you better hope you find them before I do.”

Councilwoman Sung reached for her glass, and her hand shook. Only slightly. But Sunghoon saw it. Councilman Han stood up, posture mimicking Jungwon’s, “And what? What will you do?”     

Another councilman slammed his hand on the table, breaking the stare-down between Jungwon and Councilman Han and startling everyone else. Jay moved closer to Jungwon and took his hand. The rage left Jungwon’s posture, leaving something only the coven would be able to recognize: fear. 

“I know you’re poisoning the blood. I know you’re preparing for something. I just hope you know you’re not the only ones.” Jungwon spat.

The silence that followed made Sunghoon want to rip his eyes out of their sockets. A frankly creepy smile spread across Councilwoman Sung’s face, “That’s quite the accusation. You’re aware what this will mean if you’re wrong, yes?” 

Jungwon crossed his arms over his chest. “You think I would accuse without proof?”

Sunghoon blinked. Because, as far as he was aware, they didn’t have proof. At least nothing other than circumstantial proof. He was suddenly glad Sunoo had left with Riki. 

“Lift the restrictions,” Jungwon said. “We’ve followed your rules for years. You have no right to meddle in our blood supply.”

“And you have no right to make demands when the state of your coven is so…fragile. Especially with a new one.” One sneered. “It would be such a shame if he never survived long enough to experience the same connection you all share.”

Jungwon reared back as if he’d been slapped, and Heeseung launched to his feet, hurling thinly veiled threats just as the Council had.

Sunghoon didn’t remember the rest of the conversation and couldn't hear anything over the sound of his coven’s heartbeats. He searched again for Riki and Sunoo, finding them easily, like a single thread of color in a tapestry full of grey. He let that cloud his mind, let everything else fall away until he could imagine that it was just them. That their world was not falling apart, and he could still protect them from whatever was coming. There was more arguing, and Sunghoon retreated further into his head. Where the council's threat was not looming. 

The door clicked shut, and Sunghoon looked up in time to see it close behind the last council member. For a moment, no one moved.

The room was still holding its breath—like even the walls hadn’t realized it was over.

Jungwon sat exactly where he had been the whole time. Hands folded in front of him. Expression blank. He didn’t look at anyone. Not even when Jay pulled on his arm, calling his name. He just listened to the fading footsteps in the hall.

“It’s done,” he said finally. Not to anyone in particular. Just to the room. Like it was a report. Then he was gone. Pushed up in a whirlwind, his chair clattering to the floor. 

“Jungwon.” Jay called. 

The door slammed, and Jake flinched, prompting Sunghoon to reach for him. Jay stood up to follow him, but Heeseung grabbed his shoulder. Jay looked up at him incredulously, but Heeseung wasn’t looking at him.

“Hyung—”

“I’ll get him. Go find Sunoo and Riki; we’re leaving.” Then he was gone, following the trail of fear Jungwon left in his wake. 

***

The second the council was gone, Jungwon left the room as if it were on fire. He didn’t wait. Didn’t speak. He needed to get out. He heard Jay call his name once, maybe twice, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. He pushed through the club’s staff hallway, past the emergency door, into the back alley they never used. The cold hit him like a slap.

He paced. Couldn’t stop. Hands flexing, unflexing. Breath shaking in his chest.

They saw him.

They know him now.

They know about Riki. 

He gripped the back of his neck, fingers digging in, like he could scrub the tension out of his spine. It didn't matter how well he had played it. How calm he had stayed.

Because now the council knew. Now Riki wasn’t a ghost anymore—he was a name they would demand. A face they would track.

And Jungwon had claimed him.

Willingly. Publicly.

He hadn’t had a choice.

He'd kept Riki away for this reason. Because the council was cruel and dangerous. Because they'd find any excuse to claim him, control him, erase him.

He cursed under his breath. Turned too fast and slammed his palm against the brick wall. It didn’t help. He should’ve let Sunghoon take him home. Should’ve stopped him at the door. Should’ve never reached for him in that room. 

But he had. And now—

“He’s not ours.” Jungwon whispered it like a curse, like it hurt to say it. “He’s not ours,” he repeated louder, voice shaking. “He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t choose this—” The door behind him opened. Footsteps. He didn’t turn. He knew.

Heeseung’s voice was low, calm, just there. “He’s ours now.”

Jungwon let out a laugh—ugly, bitter, cracked. “You think I don’t know that?” He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to block it all out. 

“I made him a target. I made him theirs. He didn’t even know what I was doing. He just sat there.” His voice cracked hard then, shame and fury bleeding together. “And I let them believe he belongs to us. He doesn’t.”

Heeseung stepped up beside him, close but not intrusive. “No,” he said. “But now the world thinks he does. You didn’t choose for him. You protected him.”

Jungwon stood frozen, chest heaving like he’d been running—like the lie still hadn’t left his lungs. “It’s not protection if it takes away his choice.”

That was what haunted him. He’d spent so long holding Riki at arm’s length for his own safety, and tonight, in one breath, he’d pulled him straight into the crosshairs. He didn’t know how to take that back. Didn’t know if he could. Then—

Heeseung’s hand rested lightly between his shoulder blades. Not a pull. Not a push. Just there.

Jungwon stiffened. “Don’t.” His voice was hoarse. “I’m fine.”

Heeseung didn’t move. Didn’t drop his hand. “I know you are.” Another beat. “Doesn’t mean you have to be alone.”

Jungwon closed his eyes. Tried to pull in a breath that didn’t shake. “I lied to them. I lied to him.”

“You protected him,” Heeseung corrected gently. “In the only way you could.”

Jungwon didn’t answer, but he didn’t pull away either. He let himself lean back—just slightly—into Heeseung’s touch. A second of weight. A second of permission. “Just for a minute,” he whispered. 

Heeseung nodded. “Take all the time you need.”

He didn’t know how long they stood like that. The wind cut at his throat. The alley stunk of wet brick and ash.

Heeseung didn’t speak again. Didn’t move. And Jungwon didn’t either—not until his legs ached and his breath evened out enough to almost pass for calm. Then, slowly, he straightened. Heeseung’s hand dropped, but the weight of it lingered between his shoulders like a reminder, like a promise.

“What do I do now?” Jungwon asked, voice flat. He wasn’t really asking.

Heeseung didn’t answer like he was. “You go back inside.”

“And say what? That I didn’t mean it?”

“No,” Heeseung said quietly. “You don’t say anything.”

Jungwon exhaled sharply. He knew Heeseung was right.

It was already done. Riki wasn’t a secret anymore. He wasn’t a stray. Not in the council’s eyes. Not in anyone’s. And the worst part? Jungwon wasn’t sure he wanted to take it back.

He was still standing there, jaw clenched, when the door creaked open behind them again. Jake this time.

“Jay pulled the car around. Sunoo and Riki are already in, we’re ready to go when you are.” His voice was softer than usual. Careful.

Jungwon nodded, but didn’t move. “How is he?”

Jake didn’t ask who he meant. “He’s with Sunghoon right now. But he’s not really talking.”

Jungwon shut his eyes. Of course, he wasn’t. He felt the guilt roll back in, colder than the wind. He hadn’t even looked at Riki when he sent him out. Hadn’t explained. Hadn’t apologized. He couldn’t. Because if he’d looked too long, he would’ve said something he couldn’t take back.

He opened his eyes, straightening his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

Jay was leaning against the car when they reached him. He pulled Jungwon into a hug the moment he was at arm's length, and Jungwon didn’t resist. He buried his face in Jay’s neck, arms coming up to wrap around his waist. 

“We’re going to figure it out.”

Jungwon didn’t trust himself enough to say anything, so he just nodded and pulled away. Immediately, he missed the warmth of Jay’s touch, and an ache settled in his chest. Jay took one look at him and pulled him close again. His hands were gentle as they cupped Jungwon’s face; he waited a beat longer before closing the distance. It was quick, just a peck, but enough to settle something in Jungwon. He sighed, and Jay nodded toward the car. 

Jungwon froze. Riki was in there, holding everything he desired and everything he feared the most. His hand hesitated on the door handle, but before he could talk himself out of it, he opened the door and slid inside. He watched Jay round the car to the driver's side. His hand found its way to Jungwon’s leg as he settled in and put the car in drive. It was quiet, none of the talking or warmth Jungwon was used to. He stole glances at Riki in the rearview mirror. He was fidgeting, twitching, and Jungwon could practically hear his racing thoughts. Sunoo reached over to gather Riki’s hands in his own, running his thumb over the back of his hands. Jake looked anxious, picking at the skin of his thumb, and Sunghoon had practically pulled the other into his lap, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of his neck.

When the car rolled to a stop, no one moved, not until Jungwon pushed open the door first, not looking back to see if everyone followed. He didn’t need to; he knew they would. He unlocked their front door, hanging up his coat once he was inside. The others stood in the doorway, entirely unsure of themselves. Riki was in the back, looking like he was trying to fade into the background.

Jungwon sighed, “My room.”

Riki froze, his entire body locking up so tightly that Jungwon wasn’t even sure he was breathing anymore. He reached out to comfort him, but stopped at the last minute, turning on his heel to climb the stairs before he could do something he couldn’t take back. He could feel them following him, but he kept his back to the door until he heard it close softly. 

“You have no idea what you’ve done.” He wasn’t even angry anymore, just tired.

Riki shuffled closer, and Jungwon finally turned around. Riki’s face was impassive, carefully constructed, but Jungwon knew better. He could see the tension in Riki’s shoulders, the twitch in his brow. He was afraid; he was hurting.

“Hyung—”

Jungwon cut him off; he couldn’t listen to whatever Riki was going to say, not if he didn’t want to give in. “You’ve tied yourself to us, Riki. Forever. This is not something you can walk away from. You’ll always be a part of us now—wherever you go, whoever sees you, they’ll know. They’ll use you.” He was pacing again, anxiety clogging his lungs. Jay reached for him again, but Jungwon shrugged him off. 

Riki’s mouth opened, but the words stumbled out as barely a whisper, “What if I want that?” 

Jungwon stopped, his breath stuttering in his chest. He couldn’t let himself believe the words Riki was saying, “What?”

Riki sat down on the edge of the bed, like his knees were finally giving out. He looked up at Jungwon, towering above him. “What if I want that? Forever.”

“You’re still young. You don’t know what you want.” Jungwon crouched slightly, cradling Riki’s face, not like it was something delicate, but like it was something temporary, something he knew he couldn’t have.

“Oh my god,” Riki choked, hiding his face in his hands. “Hyung.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do.” His voice trembled, but the words came easier now. Jungwon closed his eyes, “I want you. I want all of you. I want this—whatever this is—if it means I get to stay. I want to belong.”

Riki was watching him with careful hope, and something in Jungwon caved. “Forever is a long time, Riki.”

“I know.” Riki rose to his feet, looking him dead in the eye. “And I’m still asking.”

The silence that followed was loud, unforgiving. Jungwon searched Riki for any sign of hesitation or regret. He only found hope.

“Do you… not want me?”

The fear in Riki’s voice made something inside Jungwon snap painfully in half. “What could have possibly made you think that?”

Riki breathed in, relief washing over his face, “Then what do you want?”

Jungwon froze. Because the worst part was—he knew exactly what he wanted.

He wanted this.

Riki in his room. In his space. Looking at him as if he were something worth choosing. He wanted the bond that already tied them together to become permanent. Something visible. Something no one could ever take away from him. He wanted to stop feeling terrified every time Riki walked out of his sight.

Jungwon laughed once under his breath, exhausted by the truth of it. “I want too much,” he admitted quietly.

Riki’s eyes didn’t leave his.

Jungwon’s thumbs brushed against his cheeks before he could stop himself. “I want you with us. I want you safe. I want no one to ever question who you belong with again.” His voice lowered. “I want forever, Riki. If that’s something you’re truly asking for.”

Riki couldn’t even speak at first—just nodded, breathless. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Riki turned to Jay as if he had just realized he was there. They were all gathered, their backs against the door, hovering, afraid. “Hyung…”

Jay moved with uncertainty, hope undeniable in his eyes, but fear was present too, fear that it wasn’t something Riki truly wanted, or maybe that it would be something he’d regret.

Sunghoon’s arms were crossed over his chest, his hands clenched, “You’re ours. Mark or not, Riki. You belong with us.”

“Then make it official. Make it something everyone can see. Mark me.”

Jungwon drew the attention back to him, his fingers ever so slightly grazing Riki’s cheekbone. Like he was invaluable, cherished. “Kneel.”

Riki held his eyes for a moment longer before dropping to his knees, looking up at Jungwon with the smile of someone who knew they were getting exactly what they wanted. Jungwon rolled his eyes, tugging on the collar of Riki’s sweater lightly, “Take this off.”

Riki raised an eyebrow but obeyed, pulling the sweater over his head and discarding it to the side. He looked up at Jungwon, like he was waiting for further instructions. Jungwon ran his hand through Riki’s hair approvingly. He could feel the coven moving around him, could hear the strike of a match, then the sound of a flame. Could hear them shuffling, murmuring amongst themselves. 

Jay slipped an arm around Jungwon’s waist, thumbing at his hip. “We’re ready.” 

Jungwon felt the rest of their coven closing in, surrounding them in a tight circle, all facing in. He pulled his touch away, and Riki swayed towards him, like Jungwon was his own gravitational force. 

He crouched in front of him, tapping Riki’s jaw with his forefingers to fully gain his attention. “We’re going to mark you now, okay? Let me know if it gets to be to much.”

Riki frowned. “Does it hurt?”

Jungwon shrugged. “Usually.” When he glanced at Riki’s face, he frowned. “What? You wanted to be bonded to us magically forever and you expected it not to hurt?”

Riki glared at him but didn’t say anything, and Jungwon laughed, straightening to retreat to the edge of the circle, arms crossed tight across his chest as the others moved. Firelight flickered off the walls, casting them all in gold and shadows. Riki knelt in the center—bare-chested, stubborn—and Jungwon didn’t know if he was about to run or shatter.

He didn’t move first—couldn’t—if he touched Riki now, it would unravel everything he had been pretending he could control. So he watched instead—felt the pulse of the bond forming even before the ritual began, like thunder gathering under skin.

Sunoo knelt first.

Jungwon watched the way Riki flinched, even under Sunoo’s gentle hands. Something spiked in the bond, something bright, joyful. Then it was gone, like it had been passed to another person. 

Jay followed, his hand cradling the back of Riki’s neck, his thumb resting on his nape. Grief, fear, quick then gone. Riki shuddered under the weight of it. Before he could stop himself, Jungwon whispered, “You’re doing good, baby.” Riki looked at him again, his shoulders dropping almost instantaneously.

Sunghoon stared too long before touching. His fingers closed over one of the scars on Riki’s head. His touch was light and gentle, and Jungwon felt as if the oxygen in his lungs was punched out by the rush of guilt, shame, and pain. Jungwon didn’t want to remember how those got there. Then it too disappeared, sinking into Riki’s skin.

Jake was next. Predictably fast, eager. A thrill, adrenaline pulsed heavily, then was gone. His hands cupped Riki’s jaw, bringing their foreheads together.

Heeseung moved more slowly. One hand on Riki’s shoulder, the other over his heart. Jungwon watched Riki lean into it—barely, instinctively. There was a flash of something cold, angry, and Riki flinched.

And then it was his turn. He didn’t kneel. He stood before Riki like the edge of something they couldn’t come back from. His heart hammered, and he knew if he spoke now, it would all come out wrong. So he did the only thing he could:

He cupped Riki’s jaw, thumb ghosting over his mouth. “Don’t run,” he whispered, soft and sharp all at once. “I won’t be strong enough to let you go.”

Sunoo marked him first, just behind his ear. Jay turned his wrist over, biting down on the fragile skin. Sunghoon shifted behind him, placing his mark on Riki’s spine, right between his shoulder blades. Jake at his hip, grinning like he couldn’t help himself. Heeseung on his sternum.

Jungwon watched it all. Watched Riki take every mark without flinching, watched his breathing shift from panic to something like surrender.

Then finally—finally—he knelt. For the first time, he looked up at Riki. This close, he could see the smudges under Riki’s eyes, the tight pull of his mouth. How hard he’d tried not to shake. He drew his own shirt collar down and cut across his chest, clean and deep. Blood welled hot.

“Drink,” he said.

Riki hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes searching Jungwon for something. Jungwon let him search, sitting back on his heels to give him some semblance of space, and signaled for the others to release him. He could feel how much it pained them, the half-formed bond pulling and straining at the edges, but they listened, looking for any sign of doubt or regret. He showed none; his breathing was labored even as he tipped his head to the side, watching the blood from Jungwon’s wound slide down his chest and soak his shirt in thick droplets.

Then Riki surged forward, mouth on skin, warm and desperate, and it felt like falling. Like gravity catching him after months of holding his breath.

He pulled Riki close and bit deep into the untouched side of his neck. He could feel the pain sear through Riki’s veins, then the pleasure as the bond sealed.

Riki gasped, choking. The coven moved together, surrounding him. Holding him. Their hands found his skin, his arms, his hair, his scars. One circle. One body. 

It shouldn’t have felt as easy as it did. But now, he was theirs. And they were his.

Riki swayed, his lips stained with blood, his pupils blown wide, body still trembling—but not from fear. From want. From need. His gaze locked on Jungwon. Sharp, unreadable.

Jungwon paused for a breath, then Riki broke out in a grin. “My turn, right?”

He didn’t even have time to confirm before Riki lunged forward—hand at his collar, mouth at his throat—and bit. Not deep. Not clean. It was clumsy, half-instinct, half-challenge—but the sting was real. Blood rose under his tongue, and Jungwon’s gasp wasn’t from pain.

The others froze. Then Jay stepped forward, baring his wrist. Jake practically shoved his shoulder into Riki’s space, grinning like a feral idiot. Sunghoon tilted his head to the side, offering silently. Heeseung knelt again. 

Sunoo just said, “Finally.”

And Riki marked them—each one. Not quite perfect or ritualistic, but his. When it was done, he dropped back to his knees, panting. 

And Jungwon—heart thundering, throat burning—pulled him in, settling him against his chest. “You’re ours,” he whispered. “But we’re yours, too.”

They all moved with him, surrounding Riki and Jungwon, hands never leaving Riki’s body. Jungwon gestured to Jay for the blood bags they had prepared beforehand. Jay passed it to him wordlessly. He opened it, offering it to Riki, who took it from his hands, sipping slowly. 

For the first time, Jungwon allowed himself to just touch. He ran the back of his hand down the side of Riki’s face, his neck, over his new marks. Riki hummed, pressing into Jungwon’s touch, turning his head to kiss Jungwon’s palm. 

It was quiet for a moment longer until Jungwon smoothed his thumb over Riki’s upper arm, “Do you want to shower? Change?”

Jake made a noise of protest, his hands tightening around Riki, as if Jungwon had personally insulted him by suggesting that Riki move away from them. Riki laughed, bright and full, and Jungwon felt like he was blinded for a moment. He found himself smiling back, reluctantly allowing Riki to shift so he was sitting up. He moved to stand but paused, looking at Jungwon, waiting. 

He pulled Riki closer, allowing his breath to hit the other boy’s lips, but not quite a kiss, “Meet us in the nest.” The end of his sentence tilted up like a question, like something he was too afraid to demand. 

Riki’s eyes lit up, but he nodded slowly like he didn’t want to look overeager. When he left the room, the entire coven seemed to move with him, unwilling to let him be too far until the door closed. The room deflated once he was gone, as a balloon popped. Jay’s hand circled Jungwon’s wrist, fingers careful, gentle. 

He tugged until Jungwon fell into him, his arms wrapped tightly around the younger so he couldn’t pull away. He pressed his lips to the crown of Jungwon’s head, “What’s going on in your head?”

Jungwon tucked his nose into Jay’s neck to avoid answering. It was a tactic that didn’t last him very long; Heeseung’s hand threaded through his hair, gently pulling his head back, “Talk to us, Wonnie.”

Jungwon felt utterly overwhelmed, completely surrounded by Heeseung and Jay, “I feel like I’m waiting for someone to tell me I did the wrong thing.”

Heeseung’s hand paused its course in Jungwon’s hair, his next words chosen very carefully, “Do you…regret it?”

Jungwon locked up, every piece of him rejecting that thought, “No. Never.”

“Then what is it, baby?”

“I don’t want to ruin anything. I don’t want to ruin him.”

Jay kissed the crown of his head, smoothing his hands down Jungwon’s arms. “He’s not easily broken. He wants this just as much as we do.”

Jungwon knew Jay was right; he could feel Riki’s warmth, his love, his pure joy through the bond. He could feel Riki moving, his awareness of the other vampire like a sixth sense now. “We should get to the nest before Riki does.”

Jay sighed, but dropped the conversation for now, his hands falling to the hem of Jungwon’s shirt before ripping it off of him. Jungwon barely had any time to react before Jay pulled another over his head, it smelling entirely of Jay. Jake tossed him a pair of sweatpants, his own chest bare as he handed out spare clothes. 

Heeseung brushed the hem of Jungwon’s new shirt down. “You’re still trembling.”

Jungwon huffed a soft breath. “I am not.” 

“Liar,” Jay murmured, but there was no bite in it. Just love.

Sunoo leaned against the wall closest to the door. “Come on.”

They followed him out, letting him lead them down the hall and right into the nest. It felt warmer than the last time Jungwon had been in there, thrumming with something new. Jake crawled on the bed first, beckoning Sunghoon closer. Sunghoon grinned, pouncing on him and rolling them into a pile of blankets. 

They settled quickly, in between light laughter and touches. Jungwon leaned back against the headboard, not quite fully relaxed, not until all of his coven was within his sight. Within their nest. A hush fell over the room as the door cracked open. Breath settled in Jungwon’s lungs as Riki stepped into the room, hesitant. Jungwon didn’t think, just opened his arms. But it was enough. Riki crossed the room quickly, almost desperate in his movements. He collapsed on top of Jungwon, melding their bodies together. Jungwon smiled, softer, running his fingers up and down Riki’s spine, reveling in the shivers that racked through the other’s body. 

Around them, the coven had begun to settle again. Jake curled up first, his head landing lightly against Riki’s thigh, arms flung lazily around Sunoo’s waist. Sunoo twisted closer, his breath soft against Riki’s side, one hand still resting over the new mark on his neck like it was something sacred. Jay stretched out beside Jungwon with a contented sigh, lacing their fingers together, grounding them both.

Heeseung leaned back against the headboard next to Jungwon, eyes closed but not sleeping, his hand brushing faintly along Riki’s shoulder. Sunghoon sat near the foot of the bed, one leg pulled up to his chest, gaze warm as he watched, affectionate.

It was warm. Still. Safe.

And yet—

Riki whispered, barely audible, “What if I wake up and it’s not like this?”

Jungwon’s hand stilled against his skin. The room didn’t move, but the air shifted like it was listening.

Riki didn’t look up. “What if it was a moment? What if I lose this?”

Jungwon’s voice was low, firm. “You won’t.”

Riki’s fingers dug lightly into Jungwon’s shirt. “But what if you regret it?”

And then Jungwon leaned down. No warning. He bit—quick and sure—right under the first mark, close to the collarbone. The proximity sent a shock through the sensitive bond. But it didn’t feel brand new, more like a secure version of what had been there the entire time.

Riki gasped, blinking hard. His whole body stilled. Jungwon pressed his forehead to Riki’s and whispered: “That’s for if you forget. That’s for if you run. That’s for every time you doubt it.” He pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes soft now, unguarded. “You’re ours, Riki. Even if you wake up scared. Even if we have to remind you again and again.”

"Thank you,” Riki whispered.

Jungwon closed his eyes. “Don’t.” His arms tightened around him instinctively. “This wasn’t selfless, Riki.”

He pressed his forehead against his hair. “I wanted you too badly to let you go.”

Riki didn’t answer with words. He didn’t need to. His arms curled tighter around Jungwon’s waist and his eyes fluttered shut.

The others responded without speaking. Jake’s hand closed over Riki’s. Sunoo burrowed closer. Jay’s thumb stroked slowly over the back of Jungwon’s hand. Heeseung shifted, finally relaxing, as if he’d been waiting for this last confirmation.

Sunghoon reached forward silently, brushing his fingers through Riki’s hair before settling into sleep beside him. And at last, Jungwon allowed himself to lie back fully, arms wrapped around the boy who had fought them at every turn and still found his way into their center.

He was warm. Breathing slow. Fully theirs.