Sweet Revenge With My Billionaire Vampire

His hands drifted behind his back, his fingers wrapping around the silenced pistol tucked into his waistband. He pulled it out and aimed at the boy who had spoken and fired.

The bullet whizzed past the boy’s head, smacking into the wall behind him with a sharp crack.

The two bullies stared, their faces almost drained of color, realizing just how close they had been to dying. They didn’t need a second warning. They snatched up their bags and bolted, not even bothering to look back.

The kid who had been pinned against the wall stood there, his whole body trembling.

Dacatt shoved the gun back into his waistband and pushed off the wall he had been leaning on. He spared the kid a glance, shrugging, before turning and walking away.

Striding down the street, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. He lit it up, and just as he took a long drag of it, he heard small footsteps running up behind him.

He sighed and swiveled on his heels to see the kid from the alley standing there, clutching his bag to his chest.

"What now?" he asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

The boy hesitated, then gave him a small nod. "Uh... thanks for helping back there, sir."

"No problem."

He flicked ash off the end of his cigarette and turned back around, continuing walking, but the kid didn’t leave. He trailed behind him cautiously, taking quick, small steps to keep up.

He pretended to ignore it at first, hoping the kid would take the hint and go his own way. But after another block, he could still hear those footsteps trailing behind him. He could feel the kid’s eyes on him, scanning him.

He tossed the cigarette away before moving his palm over his face from top to down. "Why the hell are you still following me, kid? Ever heard of stranger danger?"

The boy shook his head. "My home is this way too... Plus, if you were really dangerous, you wouldn’t have helped me back there."

"Kids are so stupid," Dacatt thought, letting out a short, humorless laugh. If only the boy knew what he really was.

He picked up his pace, but the boy did the same, keeping close. It was starting to piss him off.

Then, out of nowhere, the kid spoke again. "Are you in a gang or something?"

Dacatt came to a sudden halt, and the boy almost collided with him before stopping just in time. This time, Dacatt actually looked at him. Really looked.

He seemed younger than he originally thought—Fifteen, maybe seventeen at most. He was scrawny, but not too much. A pair of glasses perched on his nose, and his observant eyes were locked onto Dacatt like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

He was the curious type, and Dacatt hated those. He crossed his arms over his chest, cocking his head. "How old are you, boy?"

"Sixteen."

Dacatt clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Aren’t you too damn old to be asking dumb shit like that?"

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he resumed walking, and over his shoulder, he called out, "Why do you think I’m in a gang?"

The boy chuckled, jogging a few steps to keep up. "Well, you look like one. The bald head, the gun... It kind of gives off a vibe, you know?"

Dacatt’s eye twitched. Bald head?

The kid reached out, tugging up the sleeve of Dacatt’s hoodie, revealing the inked patterns running along his forearm. "Oh, and the tattoos, too."

Dacatt flinched, pulling his arm away. His expression darkened, though there was no real threat behind it, just irritation. He slowed down, closing the short distance between them, and placed a hand on the kid’s back, nudging him forward. "Alright, kid. Fun’s over. Run along now."

The boy nodded, giving him a small bow of his head. "Thanks for helping me again," he said, before rushing off.

Dacatt stood there, watching as the boy disappeared down the street. His eyes followed him until he was nothing but a blur in the distance. Then, he lifted a hand up to his head, only to feel the smooth scalp beneath his palm.

"Tch." He quickly lowered his hand, chuckling softly under his breath. "Annoying little shit."

The heat was unbearable. The Vegas sun bore down on him like a furnace, and sweat gathered at his temples, rolling down the side of his face. With a groan, he wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead.

He scanned his surroundings until his gaze landed on a nearby convenience store. It was perfect. He needed something cold at the moment. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

He made his way toward the store, and as he walked, his mind drifted back to the job he still hadn’t finished. It had been nearly a month since Evans had hired him to kill Adeline. A simple job, he had told himself back then. But here he was, weeks later, and the girl was still breathing.

He flexed his fingers, staring down at his hands as he walked. What the hell was he even doing anymore? He hadn’t done it not because he couldn’t. No—he was Dacatt. A professional. One of the best hitmen in his state.

But every damn time he got close, her fiancé would get in the way and somehow manage to save her.

Brushing the thought aside, he pushed open the door to the store and stepped inside.

—

Adeline strolled leisurely down the sidewalk, taking in the scenery of Las Vegas in daylight. Beside her, Enzo walked like a man on the verge of death.

His shoulders slumped, his black button-up sticking to his skin as he let out a long, exaggerated sigh. Sweat dotted his forehead, and he dramatically wiped the back of his hand across his brow, muttering curses under his breath before placing a firm hand on Adeline’s shoulder.

"When I said we should check out Vegas, I didn’t mean on foot."

Adeline scoffed, sparing him a glance—the same unimpressed look she gave him whenever he said something ridiculous. "What exactly were you expecting? That we’d sit inside a limousine, sipping wine while occasionally glancing out the window?"