Virelia sparkled at night like a polished jewel, its sky-piercing towers bathed in ambient blue and silver. Hover signs buzzed above streets of crystal-glass pavement, and neon-lit sky trams slid like serpents across overhead rails. Beneath it all, in the deepest heart of the city's shadows, a black Maybach glided silently through a lesser-known route—its presence as imposing as the predator it carried.
Inside the vehicle, the tension was stifling.
Caden Valtore sat in the backseat, his posture stiff, his jaw locked. Lilith lounged beside him, scrolling aimlessly through her holo-tab. Her crimson curls cascaded down her back like spilled wine. She didn't need to look at him to feel the shift.
It was in the air.
It was in the way Caden's fingers curled against the leather seat, in the way his breathing hitched, shallow and sharp.
Then his eyes flickered—black, then red.
"Damn," he growled, shutting his eyes tight, fists clenching.
Lilith snapped her head toward him. "Wait… Caden. Don't tell me you're—" She blinked, unease rising. "You're thirsty again?"
He didn't respond. He didn't need to.
Evander Valtore, seated at the wheel, sighed heavily. The eldest of the cousins, he was cool, detached—but not blind. He caught the reflection in the rear-view mirror.
"You took blood this morning. How are you already—?" Evander's voice was calm, but the vehicle was already slowing down.
"We should've brought a donor," Lilith muttered.
"We agreed—no witnesses tonight," Caden hissed, his voice low, raspy. "I thought I could hold it."
"Clearly, you can't."
Evander pulled the Maybach to a halt beside a side street that led into a quiet human district on the city's edge.
"Get out," Evander said.
Caden didn't argue. The hunger was too much. His veins throbbed with need. Every beat of his undead heart was a siren calling him toward blood.
He stepped out into the cold night, pulling his black hoodie over his head. The moment his boots hit the pavement, he could feel the vibrations of human life just ahead—warm bodies pulsing with rich, liquid vitality.
His fangs ached.
His irises burned a solid crimson.
And still, he walked.
---
It was always the same.
Screams. Shouting. Glass shattering.
Annalise pressed her palms hard against her ears, but she couldn't shut it out. She never could. Her mother's muffled sobs cut through the thin apartment walls like knives. Her father's rage thundered again and again—always worse when the bills were high and the job offers nonexistent.
She was fourteen, and her world was already nothing but broken glass and cracked voices.
Annalise slipped out through the back door, heart pounding. She didn't want to hear her mother cry again. She couldn't stand to see the bruises or the regret in her eyes. Not tonight.
Not again.
The streets were almost empty in this part of the district, the outer edges of Virelia's glimmering cityscape. The stars above were drowned by light pollution, and only a single streetlamp flickered above the alley she entered.
She walked without thinking, feet moving toward her favorite place—an old, forgotten garden behind a government complex. It was isolated, quiet, untouched by the artificial beauty of the city.
She sat on her usual stone, beneath a dying willow tree, and curled into herself.
She didn't know he was watching her.
She didn't know what he was.
Caden's eyes scanned the night like a predator. He ignored most of the people he passed—too loud, too watched, too artificial. He needed something clean. Something undisturbed. Something human.
And then he saw her.
One girl. Alone. Silent.
She sat under a tree like a forgotten soul, and the scent of her blood struck him harder than anything he'd ever known.
Sweet. Warm. Pure.
Something inside him twisted.
He stepped forward, slow, deliberate. His footsteps made no sound. She didn't even look up—until he was close enough to breathe her in.
Then she turned.
Her eyes met his.
Blue.
Vulnerable.
His hood fell back, and in that one frozen second, her breath caught in her throat.
"Wha—?" she began, her voice soft.
But he didn't wait.
He moved faster than she could process, his hand clamping over her mouth, his other arm anchoring her to the stone. She struggled, wide-eyed, but no scream escaped. His breath hitched as his fangs sank into her neck—hot, perfect skin giving way to the sharpness of his need.
The blood hit his tongue and ignited his core.
She tasted like sunlight.
Like tears.
Like something he shouldn't have.
Annalise cried out against his palm, tears spilling down her cheeks, but he couldn't stop. The thirst was too strong, the high too euphoric. Her heartbeat pounded in his ears—then slowed.
Too slow.
He pulled back abruptly.
Her body slumped against the stone, her eyes fluttering.
Still alive.
Barely.
Caden's breath came raggedly as he backed away from her trembling frame. Guilt wasn't something he felt often—but something about her… unsettled him.
He forced himself to turn and disappear into the shadows.
The Maybach door clicked open.
Caden slid inside, silent.
"Did you suck them dry?" Lilith asked, half-joking, half-worried.
Caden didn't answer.
Evander looked at him through the mirror. "Let me guess. Girl?"
Caden rolled his eyes, wiping a smear of blood from his lips with the back of his hand. "She'll live."
Evander raised an eyebrow. "You left someone alive?"
Lilith blinked. "Since when do you leave them alive?"
He said nothing.
But his mind was still with her—the girl under the willow tree with pain in her eyes and blood that tasted like memory.
Far behind in the garden, Annalise lay crumpled, her skin pale and clammy. Her heart beat slow and irregular. Her hand clutched her neck as blood soaked through her collar.
But she was alive.
And somehow, even in that haze of pain and confusion, she knew—
Something had changed.
That moment would follow her for years to come.
And the boy with crimson eyes…
Would haunt her forever.