"Pack your things"
Daniel Huberman burst through the front door and slammed it shut behind him. The sound cracked through the house. Rain slicked his coat and darkened his hair, plastering both to his skin. He twisted the deadbolt once, then again, fingers clumsy with panic, until the lock finally held.
He quickly turned and scanned the narrow hallway, the front windows, the thin walls that suddenly felt like paper. He moved with the tight economy of someone who had learned, over years of bad situations, not to waste motion.
His build was solid rather than athletic, shoulders squared by work and habit, with the faint stiffness of a body that had been pushed hard and never fully allowed to recover.
“Daniel?”
Evelyn’s voice came from the living room. Soft. Familiar.
The house had always been modest, a single-story rental with beige walls and hand-me-down furniture, but now it felt exposed from every angle. He grabbed a cardboard box from beside the coat rack, dumped its contents onto the floor, and began shoving things inside with brutal efficiency. Tools, a flashlight, loose cash. Anything he might need if they had seconds instead of minutes.
Evelyn stepped into the entryway.
She wore an oversized sweater and socks that slid slightly on the hardwood floor. One hand moved instinctively to her stomach, fingers splayed protectively over the curve of her pregnancy. Her dark hair was pulled back loosely, strands already slipping free as worry tightened her face.
“Why are you packing?”
Daniel did not look at her.
“We need to leave,” he said. “Right now.”
She took a step closer. “Daniel.”
He froze. His eyes flicked to the front window, then to the quiet street beyond it.
“They’re coming, Eve.”
The words landed hard between them.
Her brow creased. “Who?”
Daniel swallowed. There was no version of this that ended gently.
“I was working a security job,” he said. “Private. With Rogers.”
Her eyes sharpened at the name.
“The client made a request,” he continued. “Something we weren’t supposed to ask questions about.”
“And?”
“They’re Vampires,” he said. “They’re real. They’ve been taking pregnant women and feeding on them.”
Her expression tightened, disbelief flashing hot and sharp. “Stop.”
“I said no,” he pushed on. “Walked away. Told them I wouldn’t help.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I know.”
He took a step toward her.
The front window exploded inward.
Glass burst across the living room, scattering like shrapnel. A dark figure tore through the frame, long-limbed and skeletal, moving with a speed that made Daniel’s eyes struggle to keep up. Its skin was pale to the point of translucence, stretched tight over sharp angles. Its eyes were black and empty, fixed on Evelyn with predatory focus.
Daniel lunged.
Too slow.
The thing crossed the room in a blink and wrapped an arm around Evelyn’s chest. She screamed once, high and sharp, before a black hood was yanked over her head. Her feet left the floor.
“No!”
Daniel grabbed for her, his fingers catching only fabric before she was ripped from his reach. The creature vaulted backward through the ruined window, dragging her with it as if she weighed nothing at all.
“EVELYN!”
Daniel hit the floor hard, skidding across broken glass. Pain tore through his palms, but he barely felt it. By the time he staggered upright and reached the window, blood dripping from his hands, the street was empty.
Rain washed over the pavement.
They were gone.
For a moment, he stood there, chest heaving, staring into the night as the reality hollowed him out from the inside. He didn't stand a chance against these creatures.
Then he moved.
His phone was already in his hand, pulled from his pocket out of pure reflex for the only logical response. His thumb stabbed Rogers’ number.
The call rang. Once. Twice. Three times.
“They took her,” Daniel said. His voice sounded distant, wrong. “I couldn’t stop it...”
Silence pressed against his ear.
“Fuck me. I told you not to walk away from them...” Rogers said quietly.
“Where are they?” Daniel snapped.
Another pause. Daniel imagined Rogers standing in his kitchen, weighing his own risks.
"What about my family, Daniel?" Rogers said sternly.
"They won't know, I promise"
"How the fuck can you make a promise like that?" Rogers spit back.
Daniel looked back at the house, broken from that thing. He walked toward the front door, determination in his steps.
"You know I don't make promises I can't keep."
After a long silence, Rogers let out a slow breath.
"Okay...there’s a place,” Rogers finally said. “Old hotel near the train station. Neon red cross above the entrance. Basement’s where they operate. I’ll text you the address.”
“Thank you.”
“Be safe.”
Daniel ended the call before Rogers could change his mind.
He tore through the bedroom, yanking open the closet and dragging out a stash of old weapons. Two mini revolvers. A hunting shotgun. And an assortment of flash and smoke grenades. Boxes of ammunition dumped into a duffel. A past life that was being resurrected for this moment.
He gathered everything into a backpack. His movements were fast but precise, muscle memory overriding panic.
He walked into the hallway past the baby's new room.
He froze.
On the floor sat an unopened baby carrier, still wrapped in plastic.
For a second, the world narrowed to that small object.
He grabbed it, ripped it out of the packaging and slung it over his shoulder.
This was not just about getting Evelyn back.
It was about saving what they had made.
The old Ford pickup roared to life and tore into the night. The farther he drove, the worse the city became. Streetlights flickered. Buildings sagged and peeled. When the train station came into view, its brick façade crumbling and tagged with graffiti, Daniel slowed.
There it was.
A neon red cross burned above its door, flickering like a wound that refused to close.
Daniel killed the engine and watched.
A couple stepped out moments later, laughing. Well dressed. Relaxed. The woman adjusted her coat as if she had just come from a fancy restaurant or a show.
Daniel’s stomach turned.
He waited thirty seconds.
That was all he could give himself.
“Fuck it.”
He stepped out into the cold air, boots hitting pavement with purpose. He crossed the street quickly, the pistols rode on a reinforced belt at his hips, the weight familiar and balanced. Grenades sat snug in closed pouches at his back, easy to reach without looking. The shotgun hung from a sling across his chest, ready to drop the second he needed his hands free.
Up close, the building smelled faintly of incense and disinfectant.
He kicked the door in.
Wood splintered. The waiting room froze.
Six people sat scattered across worn couches and plastic chairs. They stared at him, eyes wide, mouths open. The room was dim, lit by sickly yellow bulbs that buzzed softly overhead.
“Where is my wife?” Daniel shouted, sweeping the shotgun across them.
No one answered.
A woman stood.
She was tall and thin, her movements unnaturally smooth. Her skin was pale enough to reflect the light, and her lips curved into a calm, knowing smile.
“Walk away,” she said.
Daniel fired.
The blast tore into her abdomen and hurled her backward into the wall. She collapsed, gasping. Daniel turned the gun on the others.
“Where?”
A man pointed toward the back, shaking. “The basement.”
Behind him, laughter bubbled.
Daniel spun.
The woman was standing again. Her flesh crawled and pulled itself together, bone and muscle knitting beneath her skin.
Instinct took over.
He raised the shotgun and fired at her head.
Her skull burst, and she dropped for good.
Daniel stepped over her eviscerated body and moved fast. Any element of surprise was shattered.
The building twisted inward. Narrow corridors. Moans and laughter bled through thin walls. It had once been a hotel, now hollowed out and repurposed into something far more primal. He stayed out of sight, narrowly dodging other Vampires that were searching for him.
As he walked by one of the rooms, the door cracked open and out walked a tall blonde woman wearing a sheer one-piece lingerie.
Daniel continued walking but she stepped in the way. Her beauty couldn't be ignored and yet, his eyes stayed fixated on the end of the hallway.
"So you're the one making all that noise?" She said.
Daniel pulled back and raised his shotgun. She raised her hands.
"I'm just a fan, that's all."
He kept silent, he didn't have time for whatever this was. He moved by her, keeping the shotgun aimed at her head.
"I'll keep the bed warm." She said with a wink.
He kept moving, toward the far end, walking backwards so she couldn't surprise him.
At the far end, a forgotten door opened onto a narrow stairwell.
The air below was thick with iron.
At the bottom waited a steel door fitted with a fingerprint scanner.
Behind it was a laboratory.
He knocked.
A woman in a lab coat looked up from behind the glass, her expression tightening when she saw him.
“I’m her husband,” Daniel said into the speaker. “Open the door.”
After a brief exchange of looks, the scanner beeped.
Inside, the room was spotless. Stainless steel counters. Humming machines. At the far end stood another door.
A baby cried.
Daniel ran.
The room beyond was a slaughterhouse.
Pregnant women hung upside down in rows, unconscious, blood draining through tubes into waiting containers. The floor was slick and dark, the walls stained with old streaks that had never been fully cleaned.
Evelyn hung among them.
Alive.
A Vampire stood in front of her, tall and composed in a tailored suit. He filled a glass from the tube at her wrist, watching the blood swirl with quiet appreciation.
“Laurence,” he said pleasantly. “You must be the husband.”
In the corner, another Vampire cradled a newborn.
Daniel’s daughter.
Daniel pulled the pins.
Light and smoke detonated across the room. The Vampire holding the baby screamed as Daniel caught her mid-fall. He fired once, and the creature ceased to exist.
Laurence vanished into the chaos.
When the smoke thinned, Evelyn was looking at him.
“Take her,” she whispered. “And go.”
“No,” Daniel said. “I can get you down”
Footsteps echoed from outside the room.
“It’s too late.”
He knew she was right.
“I love you.” He said.
She mustered up a smile and closed her eyes.
He whipped his teary gaze to a ventilation shaft in the ceiling, and made a run for it.
