Ethan

The peephole gives me a tall shadow, sharp coat, someone who doesn’t look like they’re delivering takeout. My stomach goes cold before he even speaks, like I already know this isn’t a neighbor asking for sugar.

“Miss,” a clipped British voice says through the door. “Best if you open up. It’s important.”

My heart kicks harder, but my mouth works anyway.

{if Helped_Ethan = 0}I crack the door just enough to get a look. He’s tall, a few years younger than me, clean-cut, hair neat in that annoyingly deliberate way, and he could be considered cute if he weren't wearing that tense face.

“I don’t mean to startle you,” he says, tone calm but hard-edged, “but there’s been unusual activity near your building. You’re not safe here.”

I snort. “Yeah, well, newsflash: no woman is safe with a strange man at her door after dark either.”

That gets the tiniest twitch of a smile, but he doesn’t back down. “I apologise... My name is Ethan. And I’m not here to threaten you. I’m here to warn you. And I strongly advise you to come with me, it is not safe here.”

Is this guy serious? I raise my brows and cross my arms. “That’s your pitch? ‘Hey stranger, wanna get in my car?’ You realise how serial-killer that sounds, right?”

His jaw flexes, like he’s chewing patience. “Look, if I were here to harm you, I’d make up a more convincing lie, right? Anyway, with all seriousness, I’m trying to prevent you from being caught up in something you don’t want any part of.”

“Cute,” I say. “Except you’re not telling me what that something is. Which makes me think either you’re lying, or you think I’m too dumb to handle the truth. Either way, not selling it.”

For the first time, his eyes soften, just a fraction. “I don't think you’re dumb. I'd say you’re sharper than most, actually. Which is exactly why you should trust me on this.”

I hesitate, pulse thrumming in my ears. He seems serious. Dead serious. But that doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy.

{else}

The second I see him, it clicks. That same Brit guy that warned me of going out after dark.

“Ethan,” I mutter, opening the door halfway. “You again.”

“Indeed.” He doesn’t even blink. “And I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t urgent. I came to warn you that there’s been… unusual activity around your building. You’re not safe.”

I give him a flat look. I'm done playing games, time to be blunt. “Unusual as in… vampires?”

That gets him, just for a second. His expression cracks, then he’s right back to stone-faced. “Bloody hell... So you do know.”

“Enough to know they exist,” I say. My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to.

He tilts his head, studying me. “That’s not all you know though, is it?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” My arms cross over my chest, more shield than anything else. “What difference does it make?”

“A great deal,” he says. His tone isn’t angry, but it’s firm. “Because if you’ve been in contact with them, they’ll certainly come looking again. And when they do, you’ll need protection. Which is why I’m asking you to come with me.”

I huff out a laugh. “Wow. Zero to **** in under two minutes. You’ve really got the bedside manner nailed, huh?”

“I’m not here to charm you.” His voice hardens. “I’m here because if you stay, you’ll regret it.”

“And why the hell should I trust you?” I snap. “I don’t even know who you really are. You show up at my door, talk like a stalker, and expect me to just go, ‘Sure, I’ll hop in your van’? No.”

He exhales through his nose, slow and tight, then leans just slightly closer. “I specialise in hunting them. Vampires. That’s my work. My bloody life, truth be told. And I can tell by the look in your eye you’ve already crossed paths with one.”

My throat tightens. I **** myself to hold his gaze anyway. “Let’s just say I’ve had… a brush with them. Doesn’t mean I’m signing up for your crusade.”

He shakes his head once, sharp. “You don’t need to sign up. You just need to stay alive. Which won’t happen if you insist on facing this alone.”

I hesitate, pulse thrumming in my ears. He’s serious. Dead serious. But that doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy.{endif}