Ryan didn't like feeling useless,  but given the absolute rage that Drake was in, intervening or trying to help seemed fruitless. Instead,  he tried his best to stay out of the damned way, his gun tracking the flurry of movement. The way they moved, circled one another, the way they danced and parried. It was both beautiful and vicious.<br/><br/>He didn't want to leave the brunet but he wanted to make sure the rest of the apartment was clear too. He needed to trust that Drake could handle himself, handle the blond vampire. If he tried to help, he would only get in the way, he told himself, darting around them and scoping out the bathroom and bedroom.<br/><br/>The blond smirked, even though Drake seemed to be in a blood frenzy. "Drake, was it? Hanging with humans. That's below us. Or is he just your feeder and fucktoy? Maybe I'll have a go once you're dead. He looks tasty. I hope he puts up a fight," he purred out, and launched into a flurry of attacks. He was cocky and arrogant but he had reason to be.<br/><br/>When Ryah returned, he was pale<br/>and shaken. The redhead in the bedroom--there was no saving him. He had died, alone and in pain. And it hadn't been quick either, from the look of it. The hunter clenched a fist, willing Drake to be safe, to kill the other vampire.