Viktor didn't chase. Kings don't chase. He waited, and when Arian and Lena were tired enough, hungry enough, he appeared.
The old theater was empty except for them. Viktor sat in a throne of velvet and dust, flanked by vampires in modern suits. He looked thirty, but his eyes were centuries old.
"I have a deal," Viktor said, voice smooth as oil. "The city will be mine. Humans below, vampires above. Order. No more chaos. You, boy, can help me. Or you can watch her die first." He nodded to Lena.
Arian's hands clenched. "We're not joining you."
"Pity." Viktor smiled, showing nothing but perfect human teeth. "Run, then."
They did. Smoke bombs Arian kept for exactly this crashed to the floor, and they vanished through a side door while Viktor's laughter chased them into the street.