A confused expression crossed Vincent's face as he brushed the man's hand off his shoulder, straightening his jacket. "Excuse me?"
The thug's grin faded instantly, and he grabbed Vincent's arm, yanking him forward until their faces were mere inches apart. His once-playful tone turned cold and aggressive.
"Did I fucking stutter?" he asked, his fingers digging into the vampire's sleeve. "I said empty your pockets. We're robbing you, you little shit."
Vincent blinked, processing the situation. He wasn't confused that they wanted to rob him—no, that part was clear. But rather, he was confused about why they thought he had money in the first place. He was a vampire who didn't even live in the human world. Why would he have cash on him?
But, then again, they didn't know that. To them, he was just some weak-looking guy loitering in an alley.
