Page 13 of Nocturne
“What the fuck is going on here?” I ask, looking between them. “What the fuck is this?”
Emma hesitates, steps forward, gun still in hand but pointed down.
“Damon... we’re gonna have to work together… with Iron Requiem.”
“What?” I bark, unable to believe what I’m hearing.
“You heard me,” Vincent says, dry. “A truce between the gangs. Valid until we finish off the assholes from the Midnights.”
I laugh. Low, bitter.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Work with that trash?”
“Carter decided,” Emma says firmly. “Both gangs will cooperate. At least until we solve this.”
I swallow hard, fighting my anger.
“Fuck it all.” I turn and storm out, kicking a rusted can.
Outside, the cold air hits me. I lean over, hands on knees, heart racing. I’m not buying this truce. Not yet.
The door creaks. Emma’s voice is soft.
“Damon…”
“Don’t.”
“We need to know what’s on that device. Could help us figure out who’s bankrolling Midnight, and a whole lotta heavy shit.”
“Working with him won’t change a thing.”
She looks me dead in the eyes. “No, but I trust you.”
I don’t answer. Just walk away. That’s all I can give her now.
Vincent and Hunter come out talking fast. Hunterhands over the flash drive to Emma.
“The sooner we find out what’s on here, the better.” Hunter says, voice low and steady.
“I’ll get someone to crack it,” Emma says, tucking the flash drive into her pocket. Vincent and she start heading back toward the car, their footsteps echoing softly on the cracked concrete. Hunter stays behind with me, the tension between us thick enough to choke on.
He stands close, just close enough to feel the heat radiating off him without touching. “You’ve always been too reckless,” he says slowly, like a damn threat wrapped in a whisper.
“Don't fuckin' talk to me. You don’t even know me.” I say, my voice low, steady, like a warning and a challenge all at once.
He lets out a low, annoying laugh, the kind that makes your jaw clench. “Funny how Nocturne Pact really made you hate me... and hate my whole crew.”
“More than ever.” I don’t look away.
He takes a slow step closer, shrinking the space between us without breaking contact. His eyes burn through me like a blade. “I’ve been watching you. Whether you like it or not. From now on, I’m gonna be even closer. Get used to it.”
There’s a mess inside me, confusion, anger, something I refuse to name. I learned long ago to hate every son of a bitch from the other side. That’s supposed to make this easy. But it doesn’t. Not even close.
“That doesn’t change a damn thing,” I say, voice tight like steel.
“It doesn’t have to. Not with you.”
I want to step away, to escape this electric tension slicing through the air, but I stay. Our eyes lock in a silent war, every breath a challenge.
