Page 84 of Map of Pain
Luka found Nick exactly where he left him an hour ago: cross-legged on Caleb’s old couch, tablet balanced on one knee, a growing stack of handwritten pages scattered across the coffee table.
Three notebooks were filled with cramped writing, laying open around him like pieces of a puzzle hewasmethodically assembling. Society protocols, cell structures, hunter names and locations—everything Nick could remember spilling onto paper in careful, deliberate lines.
Nick didn’t look up when Luka set a fresh cup of coffee on the table within easy reach. “Shaw’s got at least twelve regional coordinators,”Nick murmured, more to himself than to Luka.“Each one manages between three and eight hunters, depending on the territory.”He paused, stylus hovering over the screen where hewasbuilding some kind of organizational chart.
Luka settled into the armchair across from him, close enough to see the screen but far enough to not crowd. Nick’s expressiondarkened.“They rotate hunters between cells every six months. Prevents attachment to local populations.”His voice carried that flat, detached tone that meant hewasrepeating Society doctrine.“Can’t develop sympathy for the enemy if you never stay long enough to see them as people.”
The stylus clattered to the coffee table as Nick’s hand went rigid. For a moment, his breathing hitched in that way that meant something uglywastrying to surface. Luka started to reach out, then caught himself and settled for making their safety signal instead—a clear C rising in pitch.
Nick’s shoulders dropped at the sound.“Sorry. I’m fine. Just...”He gestured at his own head.“Sometimes it hits weird, you know? Remembering that I actually believed all that shit.”
Youwerehurt. Not your fault.Luka kept the thought to himself, knowing Nickwasn’tready to hear it yet. Instead, he pushed the coffee mug closer and raised his eyebrows in question.
“Oh. Yeah, thanks.”Nick reached for the mug, and their fingers brushed during the handoff. The contact lasted maybe half a second, but Nick’s scent shifted to something warmer, more complex. Not quite the jasmine-sweet notes Lukalearnedmeant genuine contentment, but getting there.
Nick’s conditioninghadbeen quieter the past few days; he did not drop to his knees when overwhelmed, and while he still apologized reflexively,hestartedcatching himself partway through. Luka still caught glimpses of it in the way Nick’s eyes would dart to his face after speaking, checking for approval or displeasure, and how he still chose the corner of the couch where his backwasprotected.
But thereweregood changes too. Nickstartedhumming under his breath while he worked—unconscious little melodies that suggested his mindwassettling.Heclaimedhalf the closet without asking permission, hanging his few clothes next to theshirts Marcusboughtfor him. Small declarations of belonging that made Luka’s chest warm with understanding.
Calebleftthe apartment clean but empty whenhemovedin with Marcus, and Lukasuggestedthey use it as a retreat when the penthouse felt too crowded or Nick needed space to process. Three days in, ithadsomehow become theirs—coffee mugs in the sink, Nick’s notebooks scattered across every surface, Luka’s spare clothes folded on the dresser.
“I keep thinking about Richard,”Nick said, stylus moving across the screen in sharp, precise strokes.“The vampire who made Gianmarco cut my throat. Shaw mentioned him maybe four times total, always in this weird reverential tone. Like hewastalking about God or something.”
Luka’s attention sharpened. Richard—the name still made his beast snarl with rage. He remembered Vincent and Adam returning from the warehouse, Vincent barely healed from having his throat ripped open, Adam covered in bite wounds with his clothes in tatters. The nightmares that followed. Vincent’s tearful confession about Richard manipulating his mind, forcing him to hold Adam down. And Vincent’s lie about Richard being dead when the bastardhadescaped.
“The alliance between the Society and Richard’s people doesn’t make sense strategically,”Nick continued, frowning at his chart.“Unless...”He paused, that distant look creeping across his features.“Shaw always talked about purification. About removing the corruption that vampires brought to humanity. But what if he meant competition?”
Nickwasconnecting dots that painted a picture none of them wanted to see—a partnership built on mutual elimination of rivals rather than ideological alignment.
“Richard could control vampires and make them do things against their will. And the Society could eliminate the ones who wouldn’t submit.”Nick’s hand moved to his throat,fingers tracing the scar there.“Theyweren’thunting monsters. Theywereclearing territory.”
Luka pulled out his phone, typing quickly:
Need to tell Marcus this. Important.
“Yeah,”Nick agreed, but hewasstaring at the coffee table, lost in thought.“Shaw used to say Iwasproof that anyone could be redeemed with the right guidance. I thought he meant saved from vampire influence.”A bitter laugh escaped him.“Turns out he meant broken down and rebuilt as a useful tool.”
The emotionless tonewasback, and Luka recognized the signs of Nick retreating into analytical detachment as emotional armor. He whistled their melody—the Jupiter chorale thatbecametheir private language of comfort.
Nick’s head snapped up, eyes focusing on Luka’s face with sudden intensity. For a moment, something raw flickered across his expression before he caught himself and looked away.
“Sorry,”Nick muttered.“I know you didn’t sign up to babysit a fucked-up ex-hunter.”
Luka’s responsewasimmediate and emphatic: a sharp shake of his head, followed by pointing directly at Nick, then pressing his hand over his own heart.You. Important to me.
“I don’t know ASL well enough to argue with you,”Nick said, but his mouthwastwitching toward the beginning of a smile.
Luka grinned and gave him an exaggerated thumbs up, which earned him an actual laugh—brief but genuine. The sound still surprised Nick when it happened, likehekept forgetting hewascapable of joy.
“Come here,”Nick said, then immediately looked startled at his own words. Color rose in his cheeks.“I mean. If you want. You don’t have to.”
But Lukawasalready moving, settling on the couch. Not too close, not presuming anything, just accepting the invitation forwhat itwas. Nick shifted, creating space while staying within touching distance.
They sat in a peaceful quiet for a few minutes, Nick’s tablet balanced between them as he continued updating his charts. Luka found himself cataloging the small changes—how Nick’s shouldersweren’tquite as rigid, how his breathingsettledinto something approaching normal, how the jasmine scent was strong when his guard lowered.
“Can I ask you something?”Nick didn’t look up from the screen.
Luka nodded.
