Chapter 30- Fallen and Found

Unfinished Business

Cyrus’s POV

The phone’s vibration against my thigh sent a jolt through me, sharp and sudden as a knife thrust. My heart hammered against my ribs as I fumbled for the device, nearly dropping it in my haste. Steady hands in a firefight, but I’m all thumbs over a text message. Pathetic. The notification on the screen made my pulse quicken: “Target movement detected.”

Kate.

“Fucking finally,” I breathed, a mix of relief and anticipation coursing through me. Three long weeks of waiting, wondering, and wrestling with guilt had led to this moment. The smart tag I’d planted in her backpack – a move that would probably earn me a starring role in her next knife-throwing practice if she ever found out – had finally paid off. And if she does find out, I’ll deserve every blade she throws my way.

My mind flashed back to the day I’d planted the tracker, just hours before I was set to leave for Hungary. I’d stood in Kate’s room, her backpack in my hands, heart pounding like I was disarming a bomb instead of planting a tracking device. The house had been quiet, everyone still reeling from the chaos of the previous day. The silence had been oppressive, accusing. What the hell am I doing?

I’d picked up the smart tag from the electronics store in town earlier that morning, grateful for Kate’s offhand comment about how surprisingly well-equipped it was for a small place like Hunedoara. As I dug through her backpack, looking for the best hiding spot, guilt gnawed at me. My hands awkwardly avoided her underwear, though I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of temptation to look closer. Get it together, Cyrus. You’re not some horny teenager.

Finally, I found a small inner pocket, tucked away where she was unlikely to check when she eventually retrieved her things. I slipped the device in, trying to convince myself it was for her own good, that I was protecting her. But even then, I felt like a fraud. Some protector I am, sneaking around like a common thief.

I didn’t stop there. Her laptop and phone were next, each receiving a hidden tracking app. Getting into them was a challenge – I was trained to hunt demons, not hack computers. I tried several combinations an archaeologist might use: famous dig sites, historical dates, even “IndianaJones” (no luck there). Come on, Kate. Give me something to work with here.

As I sat there, staring at the login screens, a sinking feeling settled in my gut. I realized just how little I actually knew about Kate. I didn’t even know her last name, let alone any personal details that might hint at a password. “Shit,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “Some detective I am.” How can I claim to care about her when I don’t even know the basics about her?

Turning back to her backpack, I unzipped a small pocket and found her wallet. I glanced at her ID, noting her birthdate – August 30, 1996. A Virgo. I couldn’t help but chuckle, a rare moment of levity in the tense situation. I’d never put much stock in astrology, but it was amusing how well it seemed to fit Kate’s personality. Analytical, hardworking, dedicated – all traits that made her an excellent archaeologist. But also a perfectionist, prone to anxiety and overthinking things. Just like someone else I know. No wonder we clicked.

Behind the ID, I found a small, worn photograph. It showed a younger Kate, maybe in her early teens, standing between two people I assumed were her parents. They were all smiling, covered in dust, standing in front of what looked like an archaeological dig site. The sight made my chest tighten with an emotion I couldn’t quite name – something between longing and regret. She looks so happy, so carefree. When was the last time I felt like that?

I remembered hearing once that Virgos had a strong connection to the earth. Looking at this photo, seeing Kate in her element, it made sense. She seemed to come alive when talking about her work, her eyes lighting up with a passion that was almost contagious. I turned back to her devices and tried various combinations: “CatherineG1996” – Nothing. “KateGroza0830” – Nope. “Groza1996” – Still locked. Come on, think. What matters most to her?

I was about to give up when a thought struck me. The photo… what if…? With a deep breath, I typed: “GrozaFamilyDig.” The screen unlocked. A wave of triumph washed over me, quickly followed by a pang of guilt. I shouldn’t know this. I shouldn’t be doing any of this.

Once I was in, I quickly installed the tracking software and, on a whim, copied her dad’s contact information. Just in case. I made sure to plug both devices in, ensuring they wouldn’t run out of power before she retrieved them. At least I can do this much for her – and myself.

Now, weeks later, I was grateful for my paranoia. That day felt like months ago, a lifetime of worry and regret compressed into three long weeks. How many times had I picked up my phone, tempted to call her father? To explain everything? But what could I say? ‘Sorry, sir, I lost your daughter to a magical realm after my organization tried to force her into servitude.’ Yeah, that’d go over well.

I was in Hungary now, knee-deep in a mission I’d been rushing to complete that felt about as appealing as a root canal without anesthesia. The abandoned factory on the outskirts of Budapest loomed before me, its rusted metal frame silhouetted against the setting sun. Intel suggested a nest of Strigoi – nasty bloodsuckers with a penchant for industrial chic – had set up shop here. Great. Just what I need. More bloodsuckers to deal with when all I want is to find Kate.

As I crouched behind a pile of rusted machinery, my mind drifted back to Hunedoara. Every waking moment, my mind replayed the events like some sadistic highlight reel. The sounds of battle, Kate’s face marked by that damning red handprint, my brother pinned to the wall like a butterfly in a collection. How did it all go so wrong so fast?

I hated that Kate had gone with the Fae that day, but a part of me felt relieved she’d escaped from Marcus and Eric. When I’d heard the battle noises coming from the living room as I was about to leave for Hungary, and seen the clear, red slap mark on Kate’s face, I’d quickly guessed what had happened after I left the room. I knew it was wrong, but I’d felt a grim satisfaction seeing my brother both stabbed to the wall and sporting the clear signs of having been punched by a small but clearly passionate fist. Kate had given as good as she got, and a part of me couldn’t help but admire her for it. That’s my girl. Wait, no. Focus, Cyrus.

I couldn’t deny the surge of satisfaction I’d felt seeing Eric brought low. It was petty, sure, but watching Mr. High-and-Mighty get his ass handed to him by a rookie saint? Priceless. Of course, that satisfaction was quickly drowned in a tidal wave of shame for letting things go so far south.

A scuffling sound snapped me back to the present. I peered around the corner, catching sight of a pale, emaciated figure skulking between the shadows. Showtime. At least this is something I know how to handle.

I moved silently, years of training kicking in as I stalked my prey. The Strigoi never saw me coming. My blade – a custom job, silver-edged and blessed by three different denominations – sliced through its neck like butter. One down, who knew how many to go. If only all my problems could be solved this easily.

As I dragged the corpse into a dark corner, my thoughts drifted back to Kate. Marcus and Eric had spun their little fairy tale about her “abduction,” and I’d stood there like a mute idiot, knowing the truth but powerless to speak it. The bitter taste of their lies lingered, made worse by the knowledge that my word meant nothing against theirs. A council member and a regional leader versus a field agent? I had better odds of teaching a hellhound to fetch. Coward. You should have said something, consequences be damned.

Eric was still recovering in the hospital. Part of me hoped he’d developed a fear of cutlery. As for Marcus… well, our relationship had curdled faster than milk in the sun. His treatment of Kate had torn away the “strict but kind” mentor facade, revealing the cold, calculating bastard beneath. And I’d allowed it, too afraid of losing my place in the only world I’d ever known. What kind of world is worth that price?

A shriek echoed through the factory, followed by the sound of running feet. Looked like the Strigoi had discovered their friend’s body. I grinned, adrenaline surging through my veins. This was what I was trained for, what I was good at. As three more pale figures rounded the corner, their eyes glowing with hunger and rage, I felt alive in a way I hadn’t since… well, since I’d met Kate. Is this all I am now? A weapon pointed at whatever target they choose?

The fight was brutal and quick. I took a nasty slash to the arm, but gave far worse than I got. As the last Strigoi fell, I surveyed the carnage. Four bodies, slowly dissolving into ash. It would take time, but at least I wouldn’t have to worry about disposal. Small mercies. Just another day at the office, right?

I couldn’t help but imagine what Kate would think of all this. Would she be impressed? Horrified? Or would she just roll her eyes and mutter something about the occupational hazards of dating a demon hunter? Dating. The word sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with the fading adrenaline.

I imagined her by my side, her quick wit and fierce determination a perfect complement to my skills. We could be unstoppable together, each other’s saviors in this messed-up world we’d found ourselves in. Stop it. You’re getting ahead of yourself. She might not even want anything to do with you after all this.

I couldn’t wait to see her again, to explain everything, to feel her lips against mine. The memory of that bastard Liam stealing a kiss from her made my blood boil. Next time, I promised myself, it would be me. No more holding back, no more suppressing my feelings. Life was too short, too unpredictable, to deny what I felt for her.

As I began the tedious process of cleaning up the evidence – no need to alert the locals to the presence of supernatural nasties – Kate’s words echoed in my head, a constant reminder of my failure. We’d demanded she sacrifice everything for a cause she never chose, while I clung to my own life like a drowning man to driftwood. The hypocrisy of it all made me want to puke. You’re no better than them. You’re just as selfish.

I checked my phone again, watching the trackers barely move within the safe house. My mind conjured images of the future I’d begun to envision. I’d find Kate, grovel for forgiveness, then whisk her away from this mess. We’d hole up in some tiny South American town – Peru, maybe, or Chile. She’d have her dig sites, I’d have my vigilance, a peculiar but effective partnership.

I could almost see it: a modest house filled with dusty artifacts and weapon caches. Lazy Sundays spent analyzing pottery shards and cleaning swords. Quiet evenings planning escape routes and discussing carbon dating. Not exactly a conventional romance, but then again, our lives were far from conventional.

We’d create a life balancing her passion with the vigilance our knowledge demanded. I’d teach her to fight, to recognize demonic signs, to blend in and disappear when necessary. It wouldn’t be easy, but we’d face it together. I’d do whatever it took to keep her safe, to give her the freedom I’d never had.

As I finished disposing of the last bits of evidence, a thought struck me. Was I any better than Marcus or Eric? Here I was, planning Kate’s future without her input, deciding what was best for her. The realization left a sour taste in my mouth. You’re doing it again. Trying to control her life. When will you learn?

My phone buzzed again, this time with a different notification. My heart sank as I read the message: “Connection lost. Trackers offline.”

“Shit!” The curse exploded from me as all three trackers suddenly vanished from the GPS. The magical vortex – of fucking course. I should’ve seen that coming. Turns out that trackers don’t work when your target moves to other magical dimensions.

Frustration boiled in my gut, but I forced it down. This was just a speed bump, not a dead end. I’d find her, even if I had to tear apart every mystical realm in existence. Sooner or later, she would return to the human world, I just had to wait.

I emerged from the factory, the cool night air a welcome relief after the stench of death and decay. Budapest sprawled before me, its lights twinkling like earthbound stars. Somewhere out there, other hunters were carrying out their own missions, oblivious to the turmoil in my heart. How many of them are questioning everything like I am?

For a moment, I considered dropping everything and racing back to Hunedoara. My hand was already reaching for my keys when I stopped myself. No, that would only raise suspicions. I had to play this smart.

I forced myself to take a deep breath, to think rationally. The mission wasn’t over yet. There were reports of more Strigoi activity in the area, possibly linked to a larger demonic presence. If I left now, people could die. And as much as I wanted – needed – to find Kate, I couldn’t justify abandoning my duty. Not yet.

“Just a little longer,” I muttered to myself, pocketing my keys. “Finish the job, then go.” No point in rushing back to Romania when she had holed herself up in some magical realm.

Decision made, I attacked my remaining tasks with the fervor of a man possessed. This godforsaken mission needed to end, now. The safe house renovations I’d volunteered to oversee would be the perfect cover for my manhunt – or saint-hunt, I suppose. I knew she would reappear near the Dacian excavations sooner or later, she clearly could not resist the call of her work.

As I shoved my gear into my bag, a grim smile twisted my lips. I’d find Kate, explain everything, and make this right. And if that pointy-eared, smooth-talking Fae tried to stop me? Well, I hadn’t spent my life hunting demons just to be cockblocked by some magical pretty boy with a manipulation fetish.

“Hold on, Kate,” I muttered, zipping my bag with enough force to nearly break the zipper. “I’m coming. And this time, I’m not letting anyone – human, demon, or Fae – get in my way.”

The hunt was on, and God help anyone who tried to stand between me and redemption. As I made my way back to my motorcycle, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was standing on the precipice of something huge. Whatever happened next would change everything – for me, for Kate, and maybe for the entire world of demon hunters. No pressure or anything.

But first things first. I had a report to file, a bag to pack, and a long ride ahead of me. Hunedoara was calling, and this time, I was determined to get things right. Or at least, as right as I could manage in this mess.

As I settled onto my bike, ready to chase down the last of the Strigoi, I allowed myself one last glance at my phone. The screen was dark, no sign of Kate’s trackers. But I knew she was out there, somewhere. And I’d move heaven, earth, and every realm in between to find her. Even if it means losing everything else in the process.