Maybe it would be smart if Samson simply fired him. At least then, Zane wouldn’t be accountable to anybody and could devote every minute of the day and night to tracking down Müller. But as quickly as the thought came, Zane dismissed it.
Scanguards was his rock. He wasn’t suicidal enough to let go of the support they provided him with. Just as he wasn’t going to admit to any of them that he needed them to survive, the way he needed blood.
Zane hung the rope back in its place after counting one hundred jumps. He was about to lie down on the bench for more bench presses when a sound disturbed the silence in his basement.
He listened, remaining motionless and forcing himself to stop breathing. A few seconds passed before the sound repeated: footsteps sounded on the front stairs leading up to the entrance door.
Zane glanced at the clock on the wall. It was shortly past four in the morning and still dark outside. Snatching a towel from the rack on the wall, he hastily dried his upper body and headed for the stairs. His bare feet made no noise on the cold floor as he made his way to the main floor of his two-story house. He skipped the last step, knowing that it creaked, and planted his feet on the landing.
He peered through the darkness in the foyer. Not wanting to draw attention to the odd hours he was keeping, he was in the habit of never switching on lights unless he needed them. He was glad for it now since the darkness around him protected him.
The footsteps were gone. Had the person left, or was the unwelcome visitor still out there, planning to ambush him if he stepped outside to investigate?
Zane moved closer to the door and inhaled deeply, trying to pick up the scent of the person who’d walked up his stairs, but the door was too thick and too well insulated to allow his sensitive nose to pick up anything beyond the smell of his own sweat. Fuck, he needed a shower.
Not a sound came from the outside. Was he perhaps too much on the edge lately that he’d started hearing things? It wouldn’t surprise him. Hell, half the time he was in a world where the edges between reality and fantasy were blurred. Maybe he’d finally lost his grip.
Cursing himself for his stupid thoughts, he reached for the doorknob and turned it. There was only one way to figure out what was going on out there: confront whatever fucking bastard was trespassing on his property.
Zane jerked the door open and barreled down the five steps that led to the sidewalk. At the bottom, he pivoted, facing the house. The entire action had taken less than a second. His eyes assessed the situation instantly. No attacker was waiting for him. The area was empty. Only the faint smell of a vampire lingered.
He drew in another breath and took the scent into his lungs: Yvette. What the fuck had she wanted, and why hadn’t she rung the doorbell like any decent visitor? Annoyed that his workout routine had been interrupted, he stormed back up the stairs when another scent hit his nostrils.
His head veered to the left side of the door where a little niche housed a broom to sweep the stairs and driveway. Tonight, said broom wasn’t alone. To its left stood a small cage. From it came the scent that had drifted his way. Zane hunched down and looked inside when the caged animal let out a whining yelp. A dog, more precisely a puppy, was now yapping away at him, his nose pressed against the metal grid.
“Shut up! You’re gonna wake up the whole fucking neighborhood.”
But the dog kept on barking, clearly unaware who he was dealing with.
“Ah, shit!” Zane grabbed the handle on top of the cage and carried it inside the house, shutting the door behind him. As he flipped the switch to illuminate the foyer, he noticed a note card stuck to the side of the cage that had faced the wall before. He pried it off and read it.
‘My name is Zane, and I’m yours.’
He recognized the handwriting, too. That fucking bitch! She was offloading one of her puppies on him. She should have had her dog spayed if she didn’t want to deal with a litter. And the gall she had to even name one of the useless creatures after him! He was ready to take Yvette’s head off!
He would return this unwanted present as soon as he’d had a shower. She wouldn’t get away with this crap. No wonder she hadn’t rung the doorbell, because she knew that he would have tossed her down the stairs, cage in hand.
“That’s right,” he muttered.
The dog yelped, and his big brown eyes lifted and looked straight at him.
“What do you want?” he barked back.
The puppy’s paw nudged against the grid.
“No, I’m not letting you out of the cage. You’re gonna piss all over my house.” He gave the dog a stern look, making him understand that he meant it. He wouldn’t be manipulated like that.