Tetradore struggled with the sheer notion that the vampire mistress whom had so haunted much of his past might remain alive and well. He had sunk his own teeth and claws into her skin. He had watched her corpse of a form flutter into ashes in the sunlight. Or, at least, he thought he had. That presence of that simple collar so wracked the man to his very core, sending a shiver down his spine as his world was sent reeling with the possibilities. She could not be here. Not now. Why did she wait so long to come for him if it was her? It could not be her. After all, he knew well that Frost too had those powers of illusions. The man knew now his very weaknesses, he had a plethora of information of his own past to pull from, thanks to the presence of his sibling at that Nordic man's side. It had to be him. Hell, this whole event could have been him - down to the very feline that so pulled at the cloth of his jeans in a near demure effort to pull him onwards. That inquiry that pressed into his mind at the man's reaction to that very box and yet, he simply let his gaze sweep towards her, pressing his lips together ever so slightly as he regarded the trembling feline. He had considered offering her a reply - but if she was an illusion built by the Norwegian man, he had little desire to provide him with any sort of ammunition. "Let's just go." He muttered darkly, shoving that object within his pocket as he trailed after her.

The man ignored that press of the feline against his legs, the were-King entirely cold towards the female's existence in a way that he simply had not been before. Either, she was leading him to that fellow that so irked him, or, heaven forbid, she was leading him to certain doom. The man remained altogether vigilant of that path she took him on, noting each twist and turn with a frown upon his features. The West, after all, was his own territory and though that destination was not familiar to him, the path alone was not all that...peculiar. They had begun to move away from the warehouses used for shipping and towards that shopping district within that Western ward. Though the area was not specifically apart of his territory, his scent was surely here well enough for any of his kind that frequented that area. He was hardly oblivious of the pointlessness of those twists and turns upon that route and yet, whether or not her intention was to ensure the man was sufficiently lost still remained to be seen. As it was, it was solely thanks to that near two year of freedom that saw the were King entirely comfortable within the confines of the West, even in spite of the face of the unknown that so glared down upon him as he trailed after that ebony feline.

Her figure vanished from his view several times throughout the trip, the woman clearly fearing the presence of others in a fashion that unsettled him, even if he made an effort to remain nothing but the very definition of apathetic. That warehouse she paused in front of was hardly atypical in any fashion. The outside seemed just like any other, though the building was perhaps larger than most established places of businesses within the West. Still - there was decidedly little that might prompt the man to pause beyond, perhaps, the peculiar statement that left the mouth of the feline. His eyebrows furrowed as he eyed the woman, entirely baffled by her blatant dislike for the world at large. He followed her as she made her way around the outside of the building, his fingers reaching out to delicately brush the surface of that wall beside him as he walked. It wasn't until the sight of that door left slightly ajar that saw the man pause with the first true trendles of unease settling within him. He hesitated at her insistence to venture inside, his gaze briefly shifting towards the surrounding environment before a soft sigh crossed his lips. He was being ridiculous. The West was his and whatever laid on the other side of that door was nothing he couldn't handle, at least, that's what he tried to tell himself.

Tentatively, Tetradore stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the front of the bar only to turn and glance behind him at the sound of that door closing. His attention shifted towards the feline, watching as she stepped around him only to utter softly those four words which had once before so ended his very world. The man could hardly help that shudder that crept down his spine at the name of that bar. Syn. No. She was dead. This could not be Syn. Surely this was just an extension of those illusions and Frost was somewhere settled in the midst of this place, so manipulating everything that those bright emerald irises saw. His lips pressed together and yet, the were-King scarcely moved. Not a single step was taken further into that establishment, not yet. Those memories of this place still existed far too deeply within the man, his freedom was near fleeting when compared to the years upon years he'd spent within the halls of that dance club. He tried to keep his breathing steady, he tried to keep the icy grip of fear from his heart and yet, for all his efforts to appear as placid as he once was so effortlessly able to do, he still found himself subject to blinding panic at that simple possibility that she had returned to reclaim what was hers.
It was that sound of her voice that near cemented his fate. He knew that sensual tone from anywhere and slowly, he took a small step backwards, his back hitting that firmly shut door. Those bright green irises so focused upon the woman as she stepped out of that office and silently he watched the way that female so slinked to his side, drawn by that invisible pull he knew all too well. This was no illusion and like a fool, Tetradore had allowed himself to be simply led back into that world of captivity he'd so naively thought he'd escaped. That hint of defeat was surely clear upon the man's features in that moment and yet, he dared not to take his gaze off of her, knowing all too well that the sheer amount of damage he'd single handedly done would not be so easily forgiven this time. He had near destroyed Syn, set her entire menagerie of pets free, rescued her child from her claws and, on top of that, had made an attempt to kill his own mistress. He swallowed as she called out to him, that simple pull was hardly ignored, rather, Tetradore found himself fighting that call as she uttered that moniker she so enjoyed calling him. Tettypoo. "You're supposed to be dead." He informed her and yet, those baritone lyrics hardly held quite the level of firmness and confidence as he wished. He paused, clearing his throat only to continue, his tone now holding a level of certainty to it as he eyed her. "I saw you die." It was clear she had not and yet, Tetradore found himself still disbelieving that the very creature of his nightmares was really here.