Distance
1110 Words
The city looked the same.
That irritated her.
Ivy expected something to feel different after two nights away, after blood and forest silence and whispers about him.
But Viremont hill city moved like it always did.
Cars. Lights. Humans laughing over things that didn’t matter.
Normal.
She preferred it when things were simple.
Her phone buzzed as she crossed the street.
Chief Squad channel.
Mission confirmed. Nests cleared. Report accepted.
No praise.
No acknowledgment.
Just confirmation.
She slid the phone back into her pocket.
Detached.
Professional.
Exactly what they wanted.
She didn’t mean to walk past the river.
But her feet carried her there anyway.
Habit was dangerous.
She knew that.
The stone wall came into view.
Empty.
Good.
Relief shouldn’t have followed that thought.
But it did.
She leaned against the railing, staring at the water.
“You look like you’re deciding whether to jump.”
She didn’t flinch.
Of course he was there.
“I don’t run from silence,” she replied calmly.
Damien stepped beside her.
Not too close this time.
Just enough to be present.
“You didn’t answer my message,” he said gently.
“I was busy.”
“With?”
“Work.”
He nodded once.
“I figured.”
Silence stretched.
Not the comfortable kind from before.
This one had edges.
“You’re different tonight,” he said quietly.
“No.”
“You are.”
She didn’t look at him.
“I cleared three nests.”
His gaze sharpened slightly.
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
A muscle in his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“You’re injured.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
She turned to him then.
“You don’t get to decide what’s nothing to me.”
He held her stare.
“I don’t want you bleeding in forests.”
“That’s not your decision.”
A pause.
He nodded slowly.
“You’re right.”
That calm agreement unsettled her more than argument would have.
“You could’ve texted,” he added softly.
“I don’t owe you updates.”
“No.”
“But you owe yourself honesty.”
Her eyes flashed.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you didn’t avoid me because you were busy.”
The air shifted.
She stepped back slightly.
“You think this is about you?”
“I think,” he said carefully, “someone reminded you who you are.”
Her stomach tightened.
She hated how easily he read between her silence.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she said flatly.
“Then tell me.”
The invitation wasn’t demanding.
It was open.
She hated that too.
Because part of her wanted to.
But the Chief Squad’s voice echoed in her head.
You were born for this.
You don’t form attachments.
You don’t blur lines.
“I don’t mix my worlds,” she said finally.
“I never asked you to.”
“You exist in one of them.”
“Then I’ll leave it.”
That caught her off guard.
“You’ll what?”
“If my presence makes things harder for you,” he said evenly, “I can step back.”
Something inside her chest reacted sharply to that.
Unwelcome.
Uncontrolled.
“That’s not necessary,” she said too quickly.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“Then what do you want, Ivy?” he asked quietly.
The question felt heavier than it should have.
She didn’t know.
She wanted the quiet by the river.
She wanted not to feel watched by her own people.
She wanted not to question why vampires reacted strangely around him.
She wanted clarity.
She wanted…
“I don’t want complications,” she said instead.
His gaze softened.
“I’m not a complication.”
“You could be.”
“Only if you let me.”
That wasn’t comforting.
It meant the power was hers.
And that was more dangerous than if he’d demanded anything.
She looked away first.
“You should keep your distance,” she said quietly.
He didn’t argue.
Didn’t protest.
He simply nodded.
“If that’s what you need.”
And then,
He stepped back.
Physically.
A clear, deliberate gap forming between them.
It felt colder immediately.
She hated that she noticed.
“I’ll still be around,” he added gently. “Just… further.”
Further.
The word lingered.
She watched him walk away this time.
He didn’t look back.
Didn’t hesitate.
Just left.
And for a moment…
She felt something close to regret.
Across the street,
Two figures observed from inside a parked car.
Hunter uniforms concealed under civilian jackets.
“She’s slipping,” one muttered.
“No,” the other replied. “She’s hesitating.”
“Same thing.”
They watched Damien disappear into the crowd.
“Run his face through the system.”
“Already did.”
“And?”
“Nothing.”
The first hunter frowned.
“Everyone leaves a trail.”
“Not him.”
Their gaze returned to Ivy.
Standing alone by the river.
“She’s the heir,” the second hunter said quietly. “If she chooses wrong…”
“She won’t.”
“You sound certain.”
“She was raised not to.”
Night deepened.
Ivy walked home slower than usual.
Her thoughts were louder than the city.
Keep your distance.
Hunters don’t linger.
She told herself she’d done the right thing.
Attachment created weakness.
Weakness created openings.
Openings got people killed.
She unlocked her apartment door.
Stepped inside.
Paused.
The air felt… different.
Not hostile.
Not cold.
Just aware.
Her instincts sharpened immediately.
She reached for her blade.
“Relax.”
The voice came from the shadows near her window.
Not Damien.
Deeper.
Older.
She moved instantly, blade raised.
A vampire stepped into the faint light.
Not aggressive.
Not lunging.
Simply watching.
“You should’ve stayed away from him,” the vampire said calmly.
Her eyes narrowed.
“From who?”
The vampire smiled faintly.
“You know exactly who.”
Her pulse slowed deliberately.
“Say it.”
“He is not meant for you.”
Rage flared unexpectedly.
“Leave.”
The vampire’s gaze darkened.
“You think distance will protect you?”
She stepped forward.
Silver flashing.
“I said leave.”
The vampire studied her one last time.
“Soon,” he said softly, “you’ll understand why even we fear what watches you.”
Then he vanished.
Not ash.
Not attack.
Just gone.
Ivy stood in the center of her apartment.
Breathing steady.
Mind racing.
Even we fear what watches you.
She lowered her blade slowly.
Distance wouldn’t solve this.
It was already too close.
- Writer
