Chapter 8
Cynthia"I'm not drinking blood," I said for the millionth time.
Hart ignored me, scrolling through social media on his phone. That was him hunting. A really dumb way to hunt, but whatever.
"I got one," Hart said at last. "Let's see if we can grab him."
I opened my mouth to tell him I wasn't going anywhere, but Hart grabbed my hand and wrapped us in shadows.
Dazed by the strange mode of transportation, I almost face-planted into the side of the building. Of course, we had to land in a stinky puddle next to a dumpster.
Hart sniffed the air, then pulled me after him to the empty street ahead. Whoever Hart thought he could grab obviously didn't get the memo.
Crossing his arms, Hart leaned against the building at the entrance to the alley. His eyes kept scanning the street, but
