The alley smells like rain and cold stone. Your back is pressed to brick, legs barely holding, the city noise bleeding into a low hum at the edges of your senses. Hunger has a sound. It's the ringing behind your eyes right now. You made a vow - no feeding without consent - and you have kept it even as it hollows you out. Tonight your body is calling the debt due. You don't hear him approach. You just feel a hand catch your waist before the ground does, steady and certain, like it was always going to be there.