it’s unlike kat not to text him back. definitely unlike her to not show up, without a word either way. fin is worried 30 minutes into sitting in a booth by himself, and is out of his seat promptly after throwing the money for the small bill onto the table. the first place he checks is her apartment, but he finds nothing. that’s another red flag. for a moment, the hunter- with concerned brows pulled down, just like the frown on his lips- stands, looks around, panics just long enough to think the worst. then he spots a piece of ripped cloth caught on the frame of the door way.
it’s hers. he knows because he knows her well enough to know. brows furrow that much further, and finley will immediately think back to that favor he’d done her- take out some vampires causing her and her city trouble. and fin did, but one had gotten away. he hadn’t stopped thinking about that son of a bitch, and now he was back to extract some sort of revenge? well- fin sure as hell wasn’t going to let that happen.
it takes an hour and a half to track the bloodsucker. at the forefront of his mind is a cocktail of worry and anger as he spins into the driveway of the beaten down house. machete that has previously been riding shotgun is taken into dominate hand, other opening and slamming the door shut behind him. perhaps the hunter should stay quiet, but the vampire wouldn’t have a chance, especially if he found kat dead.
finding the doors to the cellar at the back of the shack, he breaks the lock easily with the hilt of his blade and skips the ladder all together, jumping down inside and instantly coming to attention. dust rises around him, but there’s only one body in the room- kat’s. strung up and looking drained. ‘jesus christ,’ is mumbled under his breath as he rushes toward her, slowly bringing fingers to her neck, to see if she was still alive. when he feels a pulse, all of the air is exhaled from fin’s lungs. ‘kat? hey, can you hear me?’ / @veinlaced.
