SERA POV The bottle of red wine slips from my fingers. I catch it before it hits the ground-a reflex born from years of practice. My hand wraps around the neck, steady, sure. It is cool against my palm. The label is old, faded, worth more than most people's monthly rent. I place it carefully on the shelf. The wine store is quiet tonight. It is always quiet on Tuesday evenings. The humans are home with their families. The supernatural creatures are hiding in their shadows. The world is holding its breath, waiting for something I cannot name. I like the quiet. I have always liked the quiet. Quiet means no demons. Quiet means no hunters. Quiet means no one is trying to kill me. Quiet means safe. I run my fingers along the wooden counter. The wood is old, worn smooth by decades of use. I bought this counter at an estate sale three years ago. The old owner was a human-a kind man with kind eyes. He did not know what I was. He did not care. He just wanted someone to love his store as much as he did. I do love this store. It is the only thing I have ever loved that has not tried to destroy me. The wards hum softly beneath my fingertips. Invisible runes carved into the wood. Protection spells woven into the walls. A witch's paranoia manifested itself. I check them every night. I check them every morning. I check them when I cannot sleep. The bell above the door chimes. I look up. Maya Chen walks in, a cardboard box balanced on her hip. She is grinning-she is always grinning-and her purple hair is even more chaotic than usual. She looks like she has been electrocuted. Or maybe she just woke up. With Maya, it is hard to tell. "I brought dinner," she announces, setting the box on the counter. "Chinese. Your favorite." I raise an eyebrow. "You hate Chinese food." "I hate bad Chinese food," she corrects. "This is good Chinese food. From the place on Fifth Street. The one with the angry grandma who yells at everyone." "The one who called you a 'skinny little ghost'?" "She was complimenting my complexion," Maya says, completely serious. "I have a very ethereal look." I snort. It is not a ladylike sound. I have never been a lady. I have never wanted to be. Maya pulls two containers from the box. She opens them with a flourish. Steam rises-warm, fragrant, alive. My stomach growls. I have not eaten since breakfast. I have not eaten properly in days. "Eat," Maya commands, pushing a container toward me. "You look like death." "I always look like death." "More than usual," she says. Her eyes narrow. "When did you last sleep?" I do not answer. She already knows the answer. Maya sighs. It is a long, tired sound. She has been sighing at me for ten years. She will probably sigh at me for ten more.you need to rest, Sera. You need to take care of yourself. You need-" "I need this inventory," I interrupt. "The shipment from the southern vineyards comes tomorrow. I have to-" "You have to eat," Maya says, shoving a fork into my hand. "Inventory can wait. You cannot." I want to argue. I want to tell her that inventory cannot wait. That the world does not stop for sleep. That I have been running for so long that I have forgotten how to stand still. But I am tired. I take the fork. I eat. The food is good. The company is better. Maya talks about her day-about the customer who tried to return a bottle of wine because it "tasted too much like grapes," about the stray cat she found behind the store, about the novel she is reading. I listen. I nod. I smile in the right places. But I am not really here. I am somewhere else. Somewhere dark. Somewhere cold. The memories are always there, lurking beneath the surface. Waiting. They never leave me alone. I push them down. I swallow them with a bite of rice. I bury them with a sip of wine. Not tonight. Tonight, I am safe. Tonight, I am normal. The bell above the door chimes again. I look up. A man stands in the doorway. He is tall. He is beautiful. He is wrong. His skin is too pale. His eyes are too bright. His smile is too sharp. He is a vampire. I do not know how I know. I just know. It is a feeling-a cold whisper down my spine, a prickle at the back of my neck. My magic reacts before my mind does. It rises, hot and hungry, ready to strike. I put my hand under the counter. My fingers brush against the silver dagger I keep hidden there. The metal is cold. It is familiar. It is comfortable. Maya notices. She stops talking. She looks at me, then at the man, then back at me. "What?" she whispers. I do not answer. I am watching him. He walks toward the counter. His movements are fluid-too fluid. He moves like water. He moves like smoke. He moves like a predator. He stops in front of me. He looks down. His eyes are silver-not grey, not blue, but silver. They shine in the dim light of the store. They are beautiful. They are terrifying. "Good evening," he says. His voice is velvet and shadow. It is deep. It is smooth. It is dangerous. I do not respond. He smiles. It is not a kind smile. It is a predator's smile-the smile of a creature who knows he is in control. The smile of a creature who enjoys the hunt. "I am looking for a bottle of wine," he says. "Something old. Something rare. Something... special." I found my voice. "We're closed," I say. It is a lie. The store is not closed. The sign on the door says OPEN. But I do not care. I want him gone. I want him out. He tilts his head. His smile widens. "The sign says otherwise." "The sign is wrong." He laughs. It is a low, rich sound. It is the sound of a man who is not used to being refused. "I like you," he says. "You are... spirited." I do not smile. I do not blink. I do not move my hand away from the dagger. "What do you want?" I ask. He leans forward. His hands rest on the counter. His fingers are long, elegant, pale. He is close enough that I can smell him-old books, cold stone, and something else. Something sweet. Something dark. "I want what all vampires want," he says. "I want what I have always wanted." He pauses. His silver eyes lock on mine. "I want you." The world stops. Maya gasps. I hear it-a small, sharp sound in the silence. I feel her hand on my arm, pulling me back. I feel her fear through her touch. But I am not afraid. I am furious. I am not a thing to be wanted. I am not a prize to be claimed. I am not a vampire's toy. I pull the dagger from beneath the counter. The silver blade gleams in the dim light. I point it at his chest. "I don't know who you are," I say, my voice cold, steady, deadly. "I don't know what you want. And I don't care. But if you don't leave this store in the next ten seconds, I will show you what a witch can do." He looks at the dagger. He looks at me. He smiles. He does not move. "Ten," I say. He laughs. "Nine." He steps closer. "Eight." He raises his hand. He touches the blade of the dagger. His finger trails along the edge. A thin line of blood wells up on his skin. He does not flinch. He does not blink. He just smiles. "You are a witch," he says. "A powerful one. A dangerous one. I can smell it on you. I can taste it." I push the dagger closer. The point presses against his chest. If I push harder, it will pierce his skin. If I push harder, it will pierce his heart. "If you know what I am," I say, "then you know what I can do." "I know," he says. "That is why I am here." He steps back. He raises his hands in mock surrender. His smile does not fade. "I will leave you for now," he says. "But this is not over. This is never over." He turns. He walks toward the door. He pauses at the threshold. "One more thing," he says. He looks over his shoulder. His silver eyes burn into mine. "You are not as hidden as you think you are, Seraphina Blackwood. I will be seeing you again." He leaves. The door closes behind him. The bell chimes. The silence returns. I stand there. My hand is still gripping the dagger. My heart is pounding. My breath is coming in short, sharp gasps. Maya grabs my arm. She is shaking. "What the hell was that?" she demands. "Who was that? What did he mean? Sera, what-" I do not answer. I cannot answer. Because I know who he is. I have known since the moment I saw his silver eyes. He is the Vampire King. And he has found me. Later that night I do not sleep. I never sleep. But tonight is worse. I lie in my bed. The sheets are tangled around my legs. The pillow is damp with sweat. My eyes are open. I am staring at the ceiling. I am counting the cracks in the plaster. I am trying not to think. I am failing. The memories come. They always come. They are not invited. They are not welcome. They come anyway. I am ten years old. I am standing in front of my father. He is tall. He is beautiful. He is an angel. He is selling me. I do not understand. I do not know what is happening. I only know that his hands are cold. His eyes are cold. His voice is cold. "You will go with this man," he says. "You will do what he says. You will not fight." I want to ask why. I want to ask what I did wrong. I want to ask if he loves me. But I do not. Because I already know the answer. He does not. The demon takes my hand. He smiles. His teeth are sharp. His eyes are black. He is hungry. "Come along, little witch," he says. "We are going to have so much fun." The fire. The cage. The darkness. The pain. I wake up screaming. Maya is there. She is always there. She sleeps in the room next to mine. She leaves her door open. She listens for me. She waits. She holds me. She rubs my back. She whispers that it is okay. That I am safe. That he is gone. But it is not okay. I am not safe. He is not gone. The Vampire King is here. He has found me. And I do not know what he wants. The next morning I open the store at eight. The sun is bright. The sky is blue. The world is beautiful. The world is normal. I pretend that last night did not happen. I pretend that the vampire was a dream. I pretend that I am fine. I am a good liar. I have had years of practice. Maya watches me. She does not believe me. She never believes me. But she does not push. She knows that pushing will only make me pull away. I stack bottles on shelves. I sweep the floor. I wipe the counter. I do anything to keep my hands busy. To keep my mind occupied. But I cannot stop thinking about him. His silver eyes. His velvet voice. His smile was not a smile. I want you. I shudder. I do not know if it is fear or something else. Something darker. Something hungry. I push the thought away. I will not think about him. I will not let him into my head. I will not let him win. The day passes. The customers come and go. I smile. I nod. I pretend. The sun sets. The night begins. I closed the store. I check the ward. I go upstairs. And then I wait. I do not know what I am waiting for. I only know that something is coming. Something terrible. I sit by the window. I watch the street. I hold my dagger. I wait. The hours pass. The world is quiet. The world is still. And then I see him. He stands across the street. He is watching me. His silver eyes gleam in the darkness. He does not move. He does not speak. He just watches. I grip the dagger. My knuckles are white. My heart is pounding. My breath is shallow. He raises his hand. He touches his chest-the same place where I pressed the dagger. He smiles. It is not a threat. It is a promise. He disappears into the shadows. And I am left alone. Shaking. Furious. Terrified. And alive. For the first time in years, I feel alive. The next night I started hunting. It is what I do. It is what keeps me sane. When the memories come, I hunt. When the fear rises, I hunt. When the world is too much, I hunt. The demon is in an alley. It has been preying on humans. It has been feeding on their fear. I have been enjoying it. I found it. I fought it. It is strong. It is fast. But I am stronger. I am faster. I am furious. I throw a spell. It dodges. I throw another. It catches it. I smile. It is not a kind smile. It is a predator's smile. "You think you can catch me?" I ask. The demon snarls. Its eyes are red. Its teeth are sharp. Its claws are long. "I think I can kill you," it says. It lunges. I spin. I kick. I throw another spell-a fireball. It hits the demon in the chest. The demon screams. The demon burns. But before it dies, it laughs. It speaks. "You think you can hide, hybrid? You think you can run? They are coming for you. He is coming for you." I freeze. The demon dies. Its body crumbles to ash. The alley is silent. I stand there. My hands are shaking. My heart is pounding. My mind is racing. He is coming for me . I know who he is. The Vampire King. I returned to the store. I do not sleep. I do not eat. I just sit by the window. I watch the street. I wait. And then I see him again. He stands across the street. He is watching me. His silver eyes gleam in the darkness. He raises his hand. He waves. I do not wave back. I do not move. I just stare. He smiles. It is not a threat. It is something else. Something I do not understand. He disappears into the shadows. Am Terrified. And curious. Who is this man? What does he want? Why is he here? I do not know. But I will find out. I will find out. Or I will die trying.

SERA POV The night is cold. I pull my leather jacket tighter around my shoulders. The wind bites at my cheeks. The streets are empty. The humans are asleep. The world is quiet. Sometimes I hate the quietness. Quiet means I have time to think. Time to remember. Time to feel. I do not want to feel. I walk faster. My boots click against the cobblestones. The sound echoes through the empty streets. It is the only sound. It is the only proof that I exist. I went hunting again. There is a demon in the city again. I have been tracking it for three days. It has been preying on humans always-young women, mostly. It feeds on their fear. It feeds on their pain. I will find it. It is what I do. I turn down an alley. The darkness swallows me. The smell hits me first-rot, sulfur, death. I wrinkle my nose. Demons always smell like death. It is their signature. It is their perfume. I walk deeper into the alley. The walls are closed. The shadows are thick. My hand finds the dagger at my hip. The silver is cold. The silver is comfortable. I sense it before I see it. A shift in the air. A whisper of magic. A presence. I stop walking. I listen. The alley is silent. But I know it is there. I can feel it. I can taste it. "Come out," I say. My voice is calm. My voice is cold. "I know you're there." Silence. Then-a laugh. It is a low, guttural sound. It is the sound of something that has not laughed in a very long time. It is the sound of something that has forgotten how to laugh. "You are brave," the demon says. "Or stupid. I cannot tell which." It steps out of the shadows. It is tall. It is thin. Its skin is grey. Its eyes are red-not the red of blood, but the red of fire. Its teeth are sharp. Its claws are long. It is ugly. It is terrifying. I do not flinch. I have seen worse. I have survived worse. "I am neither," I say. "I am just tired of demons preying on innocent people." The demon tilts its head. Its smile widens. It is not a pleasant smile. It is the smile of a predator who has found its prey. "Innocent?" it says. "There are no innocent people. There are only the weak and the strong. The prey and the predator." I pull my dagger from its sheath. The silver gleams in the darkness. The demon's eyes flicker to the blade. Its smile fades. "Silver," it says. "You are a witch." "I am," I say. "And you are going to die." I lunge. The demon is fast. It dodges my blade. It swipes at me with its claws. I spin. I kick. My boot connects with its chest. It stumbles back. It snarls. "You are strong," it says. "Stronger than most witches." "I know," I say. I throw a spell. Fire erupts from my palm. The demon screams. It dodges. The fire hits the wall. The wall burns. The demon laughs. It is a wild, desperate sound. "You think fire can kill me?" it asks. "I am a creature of Hell. I was born in a fire." I smile. It is not a kind smile. It is a predator's smile. "Then you should know what happens next," I say. I throw another spell. Ice this time. The demon dodges. The ice hits the ground. The ground freezes. The demon's feet slip. It stumbles. It falls. I am on it before it can recover. My dagger finds its throat. The silver burns its skin. The demon screams. It screams and screams and screams. "Wait!" it cries. "Wait! I have information!" I pause. The blade is still at its throat. The silver is still burning. "What information?" I ask. The demon laughs. It is a weak, broken sound. "You think you can hide, hybrid? You think you can run? They are coming for you. He is coming for you." I freeze. The blade wavers. My hand shakes. "What did you say?" I whisper. The demon smiles. Its red eyes gleam. it says. "The Vampire King. He knows what you are. He knows where you are. He is coming." I press the blade deeper. The demon gasps. "Who sent you?" I demand. "Who told you about me?" The demon laughs again. Blood bubbles at its lips. "No one sent me," it says. "I felt you. We all feel you. You are a beacon. You are a signal. You are a hybrid-an abomination-and the whole supernatural world is hunting you." I do not respond. I cannot respond. My mind is racing. My heart is pounding. The demon's smile fades. Its eyes dim. "You are already dead," it whispers. "You just do not know it yet." I drive the blade home. The demon crumbles to ash. The alley is silent. The world is still. I stand there. My hand is still gripping the dagger. My breath is coming in short, sharp gasps. My heart is racing. He is coming for you. I know who he is. I have known since the moment I saw his silver eyes. The Vampire King. The one who rules the Obsidian Court. The one who has been hunting hybrids for centuries. He has found me. He is watching me. And I do not know what he wants. I sheath my dagger. I turn. I walk out of the alley. I do not run. I do not look back. I walk with my head high and my heart cold. I will not be afraid. I will not be weak. I am a witch. I am a hunter. I am a survivor. And I will not let anyone-not a demon, not a vampire, not a king-take that from me. Later that night I returned to the store. The wards hum softly as I cross the threshold. The magic welcomes me. The magic protects me. I lock the door. I check the ward. I check them again. I check them a third time. I am paranoid. I know I am paranoid. But paranoia has kept me alive for ten years. Paranoia is my friend. I walk upstairs. My apartment is small-a bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom. It is not much. But it is mine. I sit on the edge of my bed. I stare at the wall. I do not move. I do not blink. I just sit. The memories come. They always come. Always the same. I am ten years old. I am in a cage. The cage is small. The cage is dark. The cage is cold. The demon is there. He is smiling. He is always smiling. "Little witch," he says. "Little hybrid. You are going to be so useful." I do not understand. I do not know what he means. I only know that I am afraid. I am so afraid. He opens the cage. He reaches for me. His fingers are long. His fingers are sharp. I scream. I fight. I bite. He laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs. "You have fire," he says. "I like fire. I am going to enjoy breaking you." The pain. The darkness. The blood. I woke up. I do not scream. I have learned not to scream. Screaming wakes Maya. Screaming makes her worry. Screaming makes her ask questions. I do not want her to ask questions. I do not want her to know. I sit up. My sheets are soaked with sweat. My hands are shaking. My heart is pounding. I look at the clock. It is three in the morning. The world is quiet. The world is still. I get out of bed. I walk to the window. I look out at the street. He is there. The Vampire King. He stands across the street. What did he really want from me.He does not move. He does not speak. He just watches. I grip the windowsill. My knuckles are white. My breath is shallow. He raises his hand. Before he could touch his chest. i shout the window The next morning. I open the store at eight. My eyes are red. My hands are shaking. My magic is unstable. I drop a bottle of wine. It shatters on the floor. Red liquid spills across the wood. It looks like blood. Maya runs in from the back. She sees the broken bottle. She sees my face. She knows. "What happened?" she asks. "Nothing," I say. "Liar." I do not respond. I kneel down. I pick up the pieces of glass. One of them cuts my finger. Blood wells up. I do not flinch. I do not feel it. Maya kneels beside me. She takes my hand. She wraps a cloth around my finger. She is gentle. She is kind. "Sera," she says. "Talk to me." I look at her. Her eyes are warm. Her eyes are worried. She is the only person in the world who cares about me. The only person who has ever cared about me. "I saw him," I whisper. "The Vampire King. He was here. He was watching me." Maya's eyes widened. Her face pales. "What?" she breathes. "What do you mean? What did he want?" "I do not know," I say. "He said... he said he wanted me." Maya's hand tightens on mine. Her fear is palpable. I can feel it through her touch. "We need to leave," she says. "We need to run. We need to-" "No." The word is sharp. Final. Certain. Maya stares at me. "No?" she repeats. "Sera, he is the Vampire King. He is the most powerful vampire in the world. He has killed thousands of witches. We cannot stay here." "I am not running," I say. "I have been running for ten years. I am tired of running." "But-" "I am not running," I repeat. "If he wants me, he can come and get me." Maya is silent. She looks at me. Her eyes are wide. Her eyes are afraid. But there is something else in her eyes. Something I have not seen before. Pride. "You are crazy," she whispers. "I know," I say. She laughs. It is a small, broken sound. But it is a laugh. "You are the craziest person I have ever met," she says. "I know," I say again. She hugs me. She holds me tight. She does not let go. "I will stay with you," she says. "Whatever happens. I will stay." I close my eyes. I let her hold me. I let myself feel-just for a moment. But I know it will not last. I know the Vampire King will return. I know the war is coming. And I know I cannot face it alone.

SERA POV The rain wakes me. It hammers against the window. It drips through the cracks in the ceiling. It pools on the floor in small, dark puddles. I lie still. I do not move. I do not open my eyes. I just listen. The rain sounds like screaming. I know it is not screaming. I know it is just rain. But my mind does not care. My mind is a traitor. My mind takes everything and twists it into something terrible. I open my eyes. The ceiling is cracked. The plaster is peeling. The room is small ,dark and empty. I am alone. No-not alone. Maya is in the next room. I can hear her breathing. Slow. Steady. Safe. I sit up. My body aches. My muscles are sore. My head is pounding. I did not sleep well. I never sleep well. I swing my legs over the side of the bed. My feet touch the cold floor. The cold is sharp. The cold is real. It grounds me. It reminds me that I am awake. That I am alive. I stand. I walk to the window. I look out at the street. The rain is falling in sheets. The street is empty. The world is grey. He is not there. The Vampire King is not watching me. Not tonight. Not now. I do not know if I am relieved or disappointed. I do not know what I feel. I turn away from the window. I walk to the bathroom. I turn on the shower. The water is hot. The steam fills the room. I step inside. I let the water burn my skin. I let it wash away the night. But it does not wash away the memories. Nothing washes away the memories. The memory comes I am ten years old. I am standing in a room. The room is large. The room is cold. The walls are white. The floor is marble. There are no windows. There is no door. I am alone. No-not alone. There is a man. He is tall. He is beautiful. He has wings. He is my father. He kneels in front of me. His eyes are gold. His eyes are kind. But there is something else in his eyes. Something I do not understand. Something cold. "Seraphina," he says. His voice is soft. His voice is gentle. "I need you to be brave." I do not understand. I do not know what he means. "Brave?" I repeat. "Why?" He does not answer. He just looks at me. His eyes are sad. "There is a man coming," he says. "He is going to take you somewhere. Somewhere far away. You need to go with him." I shake my head. I do not want to go. I want to stay. I want to stay with him. "No," I say. "I want to stay with you." His face twists. For a moment-just a moment-he looks broken. Then the look is gone. His face is smooth. His face is cold. "You cannot stay with me," he says. "I am sorry." He stands. He turns. He walks toward the door. I ran after him. I grab his hand. His hand is cold. "Please," I beg. "Please do not leave me. Please do not. He pulls his hand away. He does not look at me. He does not see me. "I am sorry," he says again. He leaves. The door closes behind him. The room is silent. I am alone. The memory shifts I am still ten years old. I am in a cage. The cage is small. The cage is dark. The cage is cold. I am curled in the corner. My knees are pulled to my chest. My arms are wrapped around my legs. I am trying to make myself small. I am trying to disappear. But I cannot disappear. The cage is too small. The darkness is too thick. The cold is too deep. The demon comes. He is tall. He is thin. His skin is grey. His eyes are red. His smile is sharp. "Little witch," he says. "Little hybrid. You are awake." I do not respond. I do not move. I just stare. He opens the cage. He reaches for me. His fingers are long. His fingers are sharp. "Come," he says. "It is time to play." I do not move. I do not speak. I just shake. He grabs my arm. His grip is tight. His grip is bruising. He pulls me out of the cage. I stumble. I fell. He laughs. "You are weak," he says. "You are pathetic. I am going to enjoy breaking you." The pain. The darkness. The blood. The memory shifts again I am fifteen years old. I am standing in a room. The room is on fire. The flames are everywhere. The smoke is thick. The heat is unbearable. The demon is screaming. He is on the floor. He is burning. His skin is melting. His eyes are wide. "You little bitch," he snarls. "You will pay for this. You will pay." I do not answer. I just watch him burn. I am holding a log. The log is on fire. The fire is mine. The fire is alive. I press the log against his face. He screams. He screams and screams and screams. I do not stop. I do not feel pity. I do not feel guilt. I feel nothing. He dies. His body crumbles to ash. The fire spreads. The room is consumed. I run. I ran through the flames. I ran through the smoke. I ran through the pain. My hand is burned. The pain is agony. But I will not stop. I cannot stop. I escaped. I am free. The memory ends I am standing in the shower. The water is cold. The steam is gone. I do not know how long I have been standing here. Minutes? Hours? I turn off the water. I step out of the shower. I wrap a towel around my body. I look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are red. My face is pale. My hair is wet and tangled. I look like a ghost. I look like death. But I am alive. I am still alive. I press my hand against the mirror. The glass is cold. The glass is real. "I survived," I whisper. "I survived." The words feel hollow. The words feel empty. But they are true. I survived. I am here. I am alive. I do not know if that is a blessing or a curse. I do not know if I want to be alive. But I am. And I will not waste it. Later that morning Maya is in the kitchen. She is making breakfast. Pancakes. Bacon. Eggs. The smell fills the apartment. It is warm. It is comforting. She looks up when I walk in. Her eyes are worried. Her eyes are kind. "You are awake," she says. "I am," I say. She does not ask if I slept. She does not ask if I had nightmares. She already knows the answers. She slides a plate toward me. "Eat." I sit. I pick up my fork. I eat. The food is good. The food is real. It grounds me. It reminds me that I am here. That I am alive. Maya sits across from me. She watches me. She does not speak. She just watches. "What?" I ask. "Nothing," she says. "I am just... watching." "Creepy." She laughs. It is a small, soft sound. But it is a laugh. "You are the creepy one," she says. "You are the one who hunts demons in the middle of the night." We eat in silence. The rain continues to fall. The world is grey. But the kitchen is warm. The kitchen is safe. I finished my food. I push my plate away. I look at Maya. "I need to tell you something," I say. She sets down her fork. She looks at me. Her eyes are serious. Her eyes are ready. "What is it?" she asks. I take a breath. I do not know how to say this. I do not know where to start. "The demon," I say. "The one I killed last night. It said something." Maya leans forward. "What did it say?" "It said... it said the Vampire King is coming for me. It said he knows what I am. It said he knows where I am." Maya's face pales. Her hands clench into fists. "That is why you were so scared last night," she whispers. "That is why you were looking out the window." Yes, I answered Maya stands. She walks to the window. She looks out. The street is empty. The rain is falling. "He is not there now," she says. "I know." She turns. She looks at me. Her eyes are fierce. "We need to do something," she says. "We need to prepare. We need to-" "We need to wait," I say. She stares at me. "Wait? Wait for what?" "For him," I say. "He will come back. He always comes back." Maya shakes her head. "This is insane. This is suicide. We need to run. We need to-" "I am not running," I say. My voice is sharp Maya stops. She looks at me. Her eyes are wide. "Sera," she says. "Please. I cannot lose you." I stand. I walk to her. I take her hands. Her hands are warm. Her hands are shaking. "You will not lose me," I say. "I promise." She does not believe me. I can see it in her eyes. But she does not argue. She just nods. "Okay," she whispers. "Okay." I hugged her. I hold her tight. I do not let go. I do not know if I can keep my promise. I do not know if I will survive. But I will try. For her. For myself. I will try. That night I do feel like sleeping I did not even try. I sit by the window. I hold my dagger. I wait. The rain has stopped. The sky is clear. The moon is full. The stars are bright. The world is beautiful. The world is cruel. I watch the street. I watch the shadows. I watch for him. He does not come. The hours pass. The night deepens. The world is still. And then-a knock. It is soft. It is gentle. It is polite. I stand. I grip my dagger. I walk to the door. I look through the peephole. He is there. The Vampire King. He is standing on my doorstep. His silver eyes gleam in the darkness. His hands are in his pockets. He looks calm. He looks patient. He knocks again. I do not move. I do not breathe. I just stare. He tilts his head. He smiles. "Seraphina," he says. His voice is muffled by the door. But I can hear it. I can feel it. "I know you are there. I can hear your heartbeat." I close my eyes. My heart is pounding. My hands are shaking. "Go away," I say. "I cannot," he says. "I have come too far." "What do you want?" There is a pause. Then- "I want to talk." I open my eyes. I look through the peephole. He is still there. He is still waiting. "Talk?" I repeat. "You want to talk?" "Yes," he says. "Just talk. Nothing more. I'll give you my word." I laugh. It is a bitter sound. "The word of a vampire," I say. "How comforting." He does not laugh. He does not smile. He just waits. "I will not hurt you," he says. "I cannot hurt you." I freeze. "What do you mean?" Another pause. Then- "I will explain. But not through a door. Please. Let me in." I do not move. I do not speak. I just think. This is a trap. It has to be a trap. He is the Vampire King. He is a predator. He is dangerous. But there is something in his voice. Something I have not heard before. Desperation. I made a decision. It is a stupid decision. It is a dangerous decision. But I made it anyway. I unlock the door. I opened it. He is standing there. He is tall. He is beautiful. He is terrifying. He looks at me. His silver eyes are soft. His silver eyes are sad. "Thank you," he says. I do not respond. I just step aside. I let him in. He walks past me. He enters my apartment. He enters my life. And I know-I know-that nothing will ever be the same.