Cold blooded

The fair smelled like fried sugar, sweat, and bad financial decisions.

Which honestly made it one of the better dates Joey had ever been on.

Taylor walked beside him carrying a giant stuffed penguin he had won after an embarrassingly intense battle with a basketball shooting game that was almost definitely rigged.

“You know,” Taylor said while sipping lemonade, “watching you declare war on carnival equipment was surprisingly attractive.”

Joey looked offended.

“That game cheated.”

“You yelled at a thirteen-year-old.”

“He started it.”

“He was working there.”

“He knew what he signed up for.”

Taylor laughed so hard she nearly walked into a stroller.

And that laugh—

God.

Joey was becoming dangerously addicted to it.

A few weeks ago he would’ve spent this entire date trapped inside his own head, panicking over every sentence that came out of his mouth.

Now?

Now he was actually having fun.

Sure, he still stumbled sometimes. Still got awkward occasionally. Still overthought things.

But Cassandra had been right about one thing.

Confidence wasn’t about becoming someone else.

It was about finally relaxing enough to become yourself on purpose.

Which apparently meant Joey was sarcastic, competitive, and weirdly determined to prove himself against carnival attractions.

Taylor seemed into it though.

So honestly?

Massive win.

---

By the time they reached the old water gun race booth, the sun had almost fully disappeared behind the fairgrounds.

Bright neon lights reflected off Taylor’s face while the bored teenager running the game slapped the counter lazily.

“Step right up! Win your girl a prize!”

Joey pointed dramatically.

“You hear that? Social pressure.”

Taylor grinned.

“I believe in you.”

“That makes one of us.”

They sat beside each other, grabbing the little mounted water guns as the clown targets lit up in front of them.

“Okay,” Joey said seriously, “strategy meeting.”

Taylor leaned closer conspiratorially.

“I’m listening.”

“We humiliate these children.”

“Joey.”

“We show no mercy.”

Taylor snorted laughter into her sleeve just as the bell rang.

The game started immediately.

Water sprayed wildly.

Children screamed.

Joey missed the clown’s mouth entirely for the first three seconds.

“This gun is CURSED.”

“You’re losing to a six-year-old!”

“He has experience!”

Taylor’s laughter grew louder—

then suddenly stopped.

Joey noticed immediately.

Not because she said anything.

Because she changed.

The warmth left her expression all at once.

Her posture stiffened slightly.

And without looking away from the game, she reached over and grabbed his wrist.

Hard.

“Joey,” she said quietly.

Something in her tone made his stomach drop instantly.

“Can we leave?”

Joey didn’t ask questions.

“Yeah,” he answered immediately.

The clown race buzzer sounded behind them while the teenager yelled something about forfeiting prizes, but Joey was already standing.

Taylor stayed close beside him as they moved away from the game booth.

Too close.

Not clingy.

Protective.

Like she was trying not to lose sight of him.

“What’s wrong?” Joey asked quietly.

Taylor shook her head once, eyes scanning the crowd.

“I… don’t know.”

That answer bothered him more than panic would’ve.

Then Joey started paying attention too.

And once he noticed it—

he couldn’t unsee it.

Three men near the funnel cake stand.

A woman standing too still near the ride entrance.

Another guy pretending to look at his phone while clearly tracking movement through the crowd.

Normal people glanced around casually.

These people watched intentionally.

And worse?

Joey recognized the feeling immediately.

Hunters.

Not necessarily the exact same group.

But the same energy.

Controlled posture.

Focused eyes.

People prepared for violence.

Joey cursed internally.

Of course.

A few quiet weeks and he’d started relaxing.

Started pretending this could be normal.

Beside him, Taylor’s grip tightened slightly.

“Joey…”

“I know,” he murmured.

“What are they?”

That question hit him oddly hard.

Not who.

What.

Like some instinct in her already understood this wasn’t ordinary danger.

Joey forced himself to stay calm.

Panic got people killed.

Cassandra had drilled that into him repeatedly.

“You trust me?” he asked quietly.

Taylor looked at him immediately.

“Yes.”

Good enough.

Joey shifted direction casually, weaving through the crowd instead of heading for the main exits.

He could already feel it through the bond.

A distant flicker.

Cold awareness moving quickly toward him through the city.

Cassandra.

She felt his fear.

And she was coming.

Fast.

“Okay,” Joey said quietly while steering Taylor between groups of people. “I think some bad people might be looking for me.”

Taylor looked horrified.

“For you?”

“Long story.”

“Joey, are you in the mafia?!”

“What? No!”

“You hesitated!”

“I hesitated because that was insane!”

Taylor looked only slightly reassured.

Joey scanned the fairgrounds quickly.

Too crowded.

Too many civilians.

Too many places for hunters to corner people.

He needed somewhere controlled.

Somewhere public enough to discourage an attack.

Then he spotted a pair of sheriff deputies near the livestock exhibit entrance.

Perfect.

“Come on,” he said quickly.

Taylor resisted.

Not dramatically.

But enough to stop him.

“No.”

Joey blinked.

“…No?”

“We can’t go over there.”

“Taylor, they’re police.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

Her breathing had started speeding up.

Not panic.

Fear.

Different.

Like prey sensing something approaching through tall grass.

And suddenly Joey realized something deeply unsettling.

Taylor had noticed the hunters before he did.

Even with his enhanced senses.

“What’s going on?” he asked carefully.

Taylor shook her head harder this time.

“I don’t know, I just—”

She stopped suddenly.

Then looked over Joey’s shoulder.

Her face drained completely of color.

Joey turned.

One of the hunters stood at the edge of the crowd watching them directly now.

No attempt to hide it anymore.

Middle-aged.

Dark jacket.

Calm expression.

And silver glinting faintly beneath his sleeve.

A weapon.

The hunter smiled slightly when Joey spotted him.

Not friendly.

Certain.

Joey’s pulse spiked immediately.

Cassandra was close now.

He could feel her.

Like ice water sliding down his spine.

But not close enough yet.

He made a decision instantly.

“Okay,” Joey said quietly. “We’re leaving.”

Taylor nodded immediately this time.

Joey grabbed her hand firmly and started moving fast through the crowd, angling away from the center of the fairgrounds toward the darker maintenance areas behind the rides.

Not safe.

But isolated.

If the hunters followed him there, fewer civilians would get caught in it.

Taylor stumbled slightly keeping up.

“Joey—where are we going?”

“Somewhere stupid,” he answered honestly.

“That’s not comforting!”

“It’s not comforting for me either!”

Behind them, movement shifted through the crowd.

Following.

Not rushing.

Herding.

Joey’s hand tightened around Taylor’s.

And somewhere in the deepening evening shadows around the fairgrounds—

something ancient and furious was already hunting back.