Prologue

Wren

The city never bothered to hide what it really was—especially not here. The buildings leaned into each other like they’d grown tired of standing alone, bricks marked with age and tagged by every kid who thought their name deserved to be remembered. The air carried a damp weight, the kind that clung to your skin and made everything smell faintly of rust.

Rain had come earlier, but it hadn’t washed anything clean. If anything, it stirred up the kind of dirt that never stayed gone for long. I didn’t flinch when the overhead wires crackled or when a car engine backfired three blocks over.

Blackmoor taught its own kind of instincts—you learned which sounds to worry about and which ones were just trying to keep you jumpy.

I knew this street.

I knew the cracks in the sidewalk and which steps creaked in the stairwell behind the old laundromat. Places like this weren’t supposed to unsettle me—not when I’d been walking them since I was too young to understand what danger really meant.

But tonight… there was something different about the quiet. Like a conversation someone stopped the second you walked in. Like breath held too long behind closed doors.

I tugged my jacket tighter around me, not because I was cold but because I knew better than to leave myself exposed. The past few nights had been quiet—unusually so—but that didn’t mean anything good. In a place like this, silence never came empty-handed. It brought something with it.

And whatever it was, I had the sinking feeling it was already watching me.

I slipped one earbud in and let the music carry me, not because it helped me relax—but because it gave the world a volume dial. Some nights, you just needed to turn it down.

The shortcut I took wasn’t charming, but it saved time. A cracked alley that ran behind the gas station, past the back of the liquor store, and emptied out just a few blocks from my apartment. The chain-link fence was still bent from the last time someone tried to climb it drunk, and the lamplight didn’t quite reach the middle stretch.

But I’d walked it a hundred times. Enough to know where not to step and which shadows didn’t mean anything.

Except tonight, I wasn’t alone.

The moment I rounded the corner, I spotted them—Patrick, hunched on an upside-down crate, mumbling through the tail end of a joke. Spence leaned against the graffiti-tagged wall like it owed him something. And then there was Buck, sprawled across the curb like a drunk king holding court.

They weren’t strangers. Just the kind of men you learned to sidestep. Loud enough to make you speed up your walk, but too lazy to actually follow. Usually.

Tonight, Buck stood when he saw me.

“Hey, Wren,” he slurred, swaggering forward with the kind of smile that made you want to peel your skin off. “Didn’t think we’d see you again this late, sweetheart.”

I kept my pace steady. I didn’t give him my eyes. Men like Buck thrived on that—on attention, on reaction. Deny them both, and half the time, they folded.

But not this time.

“You’re always in a rush,” he said, following. I heard the scuff of his boots on concrete behind me. “C’mon, stay a little while. We got a bottle, we got music—what else you need?”

My jaw clenched. “What I need,” I said without looking back, “is for you to stay where you are.”

I knew the second I cut through the alley that I’d made a mistake.

Their footsteps trailed behind me, echoing off the brick like slow, steady warnings. Patrick was the first to speak, something half-mumbled about how I always acted too good to talk. Spence laughed—sharp and empty—as if the sound alone might intimidate me.

I gripped my purse strap tighter and kept walking, head high, heart already tightening in my chest. The exit wasn’t far. Just past the overflowing dumpster and the sagging wooden fence where someone had spray-painted NO GODS HERE.

But I never made it that far.

A shuffle of movement blocked my path, and before I could turn, Patrick stepped in close, eyes glassy with something that wasn’t just alcohol. He reached for my purse.

“Don’t touch me,” I snapped, jerking back and twisting away before his fingers could close around the strap. My voice came out sharper than I intended, but it didn’t matter—not when the other two were closing in behind me.

Spence lit a match and flicked it at my feet. The tiny flame sputtered out on the pavement, but the message was clear enough.

They weren’t here to flirt.

They were here to trap.

“Easy,” Buck drawled, lifting both hands like he was the voice of reason in a crowd of hyenas. “We’re not here to scare her, fellas. We just want to try and get to know her.”

He stepped in close—too close—and brushed his hand along my cheek like he had the right to.

“How about it?” he murmured, that beer-slick breath coiling around the words like a noose. “We’ll show you a real good time.”

I slapped his hand away and drove my knee up hard—right where it’d hurt most. Buck doubled over with a sound that was more rage than pain, and I didn’t wait for him to recover.

“Back off,” I warned, taking a step back. “I’m not in the mood to play nice tonight.”

But Patrick just laughed like I’d told a good joke. Spence followed with one of those low, wheezing chuckles that never meant anything good.

“Shut up,” Buck snarled, still bent over. “Grab her.”

They moved. Not fast, but with the kind of swagger that said they didn’t think I was a threat. That I was just another girl who’d scream and beg and maybe get lucky enough to be left alive afterward.

My back hit the wall. Nowhere to run.

I shoved a hand into my purse, fingers searching blindly for the mace I always kept tucked beneath the inner flap. If I could get even one of them in the eyes, maybe I’d have enough time to shove past the others. Maybe—

Spence was gone.

One second, he was there—grinning, close enough that I could smell his cheap cologne—and the next, he was just… gone. Like something had plucked him straight out of the air.

We all looked up at once, as if expecting to see him hovering there somehow, suspended in a joke none of us were in on.

“Spence?” Patrick called out, turning in a slow circle. “Yo—what the hell?”

A faint shout echoed above, then faded into nothing.

Gone.

Just like that and suddenly, it wasn’t just me who was afraid.

Patrick vanished next.

It wasn’t flashy—just a rough drag to the right, fast enough that I barely caught the motion. A loud crash followed, the sharp clang of a trashcan tipping over and rolling across the pavement.

Buck spun around in a panic. “Patrick?” His voice cracked, his bravado thinning. “What the hell is going on?”

He turned back to me, eyes wide and wild. “Was this you?” he barked. “You set us up or somethin’? Got friends hiding out here?”

I stared at him like he’d lost what little sense he had. “You’re the one who followed me into a damn alley, remember?” I shot back. “How is this my fault?”

The sound of footsteps echoed from the left—unhurried, polished, like someone walking into a party they already owned.

Then came the voice. Smooth. Controlled. Laced with just enough menace to let you know he didn’t bluff. “Three against one in the dark,” he said, tone almost amused. “If you’re gonna be cowards, at least make it interesting. Frankly, I couldn’t watch you embarrass yourselves any longer.”

Buck didn’t say a word.

Neither did I.

Because whoever this man was, he had no fear in his tone, no rush in his movements. And the scariest people are the ones who sound entertained by chaos—like they’ve done this before, and they’ll do it again just to see how the story ends.

And right now, it was pretty clear who the story was about to end with.

Something hit the ground with a thud.

It bounced once before coming to a stop near my boots—round, heavy, and soaked. I didn’t realize what it was until it turned over, revealing Spence’s face. Mouth open. Eyes frozen wide with the kind of terror you didn’t fake.

My stomach turned. I stumbled back, breath caught in my throat as I kicked it away out of reflex. The head rolled sideways, coming to a final rest in the dirt like some grotesque offering.

Buck lost it.

“Jeez—what the hell are you?” he shouted at the man, backing toward the nearest wall like that might somehow save him. “What kind of freak just rips someone’s head off?!”

His voice cracked halfway through the sentence. He wasn’t posturing anymore.

He wasn’t thinking about me either.

To him, I was no longer the smallest threat in the alley. There was a bigger predator now, and Buck had finally figured out he was the prey.

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I counted as prey too.

Because there was no way he was just going to let me walk away. Not after I’d seen this.

A second figure appeared like mist unfurling from the shadows. A woman, wiping something dark from the corner of her mouth with practiced ease. She was beautiful in a way that didn’t sit right—like a painting you couldn’t tell was cursed until it blinked.

She glanced down at the head on the ground, then at Buck. “Vampires,” she said calmly. “Particularly nasty ones.”

Her voice was soft, almost pleasant.

“But then,” she added, with a tilt of her head, “so are men who hunt women in alleyways.”

They stepped closer.

The man and the woman—whoever they were—didn’t rush, didn’t threaten. They just moved with a quiet certainty that set every nerve in my body screaming.

Buck didn’t wait to see what they’d do.

He spun on his heel and bolted, shouting down the alley like someone might actually come help him. “Somebody! Help! They’re gonna kill me!”

The voice behind me came low and smooth. “Salis, if you’d be so kind.”

I barely turned my head when something rushed past me like a gust of wind. One second, Buck was still screaming. The next, he wasn’t.

His body crumpled near the alley’s mouth, limp and lifeless, the back of his head landing in a shallow puddle with a muted splash.

A boy stood over him.

At least, he looked like a boy. Couldn’t have been older than nineteen, dressed like someone who’d just stepped out of a thrift store and didn’t care what anyone thought of it. His expression, though—bored, maybe even mildly annoyed—belonged to someone who’d seen more than he wanted to.

He looked from Buck’s body back to the others and let out a sigh. “When you said we were going out tonight, I thought you meant for drinks. You know, blow off some steam. Not,” he motioned loosely to the mess, “murder alley edition.”

The woman gave a flick of her hand, gesturing to Buck’s lifeless body. “If that was truly your expectation, you should have remained at the estate with Markham. He enjoys illusions.”

She tilted her head, eyes flicking over to the corpse. “Though if you're still thirsty… there you go.”

Salis wrinkled his nose and stepped over Buck like he was little more than a crumpled fast-food wrapper. “I’ll pass,” he muttered. “Pretty sure this one thinks deodorant is a government conspiracy.”

I watched them, still frozen where I stood. They talked like this happened every other Friday night—like death was just another bump in the evening plans. There was blood on the ground. A man’s body cooling at their feet. And yet none of them so much as blinked.

My mind whispered to run, but my legs had already betrayed me—rooted by something colder than fear.

Buck had tried to run and now his body was already leaking into the pavement.

If what that woman had said was true—if they really were vampires—then I wasn’t just trapped in the middle of some horror story. I was the final girl, standing in the third act, and I wasn’t sure if I’d make it to the credits. After everything I’d seen, it was hard not to believe them.

The man’s voice pulled my focus again. Still calm. Still in control.

“Ease up, Count Angstula. You’re killing the vibe,” he said with a dry edge, like he’d said it a hundred times.

“Three weeks of moping around since the Moon Gala’s enough. You needed air. This is air. Besides…” He glanced down at Buck, then back at Salis. “You didn’t really think we came out just to stretch our legs, did you?”

Salis gave a tired sigh but didn’t argue. His gaze drifted briefly in my direction, and though there was no threat behind it, I still straightened up—unsure if I should look away or hold my ground.

I started easing my way along the wall, slow and quiet, hoping the shadows would do me a favor and swallow me whole. My fingers brushed the edge of my purse, fumbling inside until they closed around the tiny bottle of mace. Not much, but it was something. I took one step—then nearly lost my footing.

The scrape of my boot catching on an empty beer bottle echoed louder than it had any right to. It clattered against the concrete, spinning off into the dark like a traitor announcing my every move.

All three of them turned toward me.

The way their eyes locked on—too still, too sharp—it was like they’d forgotten I was there until the sound reminded them. Until I reminded them.

I yanked the mace out and held it up with both hands like it was a gun. “Don’t—don’t come near me,” I said, even as the words made me feel smaller. “I swear I’ll use it.”

I didn’t even see her move.

One second the woman was beside Dorian and the next she was directly in front of me, her hand gripping my wrist with a force that made my fingers go slack. The mace clattered to the ground.

I winced but didn’t cry out. Not for her.

“Don’t be foolish,” she said coldly, her voice low but edged with something sharper than threat—certainty. “If we wanted you dead, you'd already be lying next to the one who tried to hurt you.”

The woman let go of my wrist, finally, and I pulled it back instinctively, cradling it against my chest. The ache still throbbed, but it wasn’t the pain that stuck with me. It was her words.

“We’re not here to offer you death,” she said, calm as anything. “We’re here to offer you a choice.”

A choice?

My brows knit together as I stared at her, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in tone. “You want to make me an offer,” I said slowly, “but you don’t even know me.”

My gaze flicked to the two who had come with her—Salis, who looked like he was already bored of this conversation, and Dorian who hadn’t taken his eyes off me since I spoke. Then I looked back at her, trying to read whatever twisted version of kindness she was peddling.

“We don’t need to know you,” Dorian said.

I turned toward him just as he started walking over, not rushing—confident. Controlled. His voice was smooth and something about it made my skin prickle.

“But from what we’ve seen,” he continued, “we know enough. You’re a fighter. A person who, even when backed up against a wall—literally—and outnumbered, didn’t fold. You didn’t beg, didn’t break. You stood your ground.”

He came to a stop in front of me, hands tucked casually in his pockets, eyes fixed on mine. Not in a threatening way. Just… steady. Calculating.

“That’s the kind of person we’re looking for.”

The pieces started falling into place.

I stared at them—really stared—as the idea hit me square in the chest. My attention snagged briefly on the sound of a hospital truck speeding past the far end of the alley, sirens cutting through the night like a warning I was already too late to take. Then I looked back at the three of them, my voice slower than I intended and twice as unsure.

“Wait… are you asking me to be a vampire?” The words felt ridiculous coming out of my mouth. “Like, blood-draining, sunlight-hating, sleeping-in-coffins vampire?”

Salis, who had been leaning against the brick wall like he was waiting for a bus, let out a quiet laugh.

“Is sleeping in coffins still part of the PR package?” he asked dryly. “I mean, we could get you one—if you’re into that sort of thing. But trust me, beds are a lot more comfortable.”

I didn’t laugh. I just blinked at him, then turned my attention back to Dorian.

“Why me?” I asked. “You probably passed a hundred people on your way here tonight. A hundred people in this state alone who’d throw themselves at the chance to become what you are. What makes me so special?”

It wasn’t him who answered.

The woman stepped forward slightly, her gaze level. “Because we don’t just want anyone,” she said. “If we did, this town would be crawling with vampires.”

Dorian’s voice cut through the quiet again, steady and compelling in a way that made it hard not to listen.

“Olivia’s right,” he said. “Like I told you before—you’re a fighter. A smart one. Someone who doesn’t just roll over and let life take what it wants. You fight back. Even when it’s messy. Even when it’s impossible.”

He took a step closer, not threatening, just… sure of himself. Sure of me.

“What I’m offering you is power. Not the fantasy kind. Real power. Enough to never be in this position again. Enough to stop men like that—” his gaze flicked to the body slumped nearby, “—from ever laying a hand on you, or anyone else.”

He met my eyes. “All I ask is that you make the smart choice. Join us.”

I looked down, just briefly. Buck’s body hadn’t moved. Of course it hadn’t. That’s the thing about death—it tends to make a point.

The truth was, I had spent most of my life waiting around. Working a job I didn’t love, surrounded by people who barely noticed I was there unless something needed cleaning or fixing or done quietly behind the scenes. I was never the one anyone called strong. I was just… there.

But maybe I didn’t want to be just there anymore.

So what was a little blood… when everything else had already been taken from me?

Salis pushed off the wall with a shrug.

“Or,” he said casually, “you could walk away. If it’s not your thing, we get it. Not everyone wants to be undead and fabulous.”

He offered a crooked smile. “But I’m just saying—there are some pretty cool perks.”

I shook my head slowly—not in refusal, but in something like awe. Or maybe disbelief that I’d already made up my mind before I even realized it.

The silence between us deepened. I could still feel Olivia’s grip ghosting along my wrist, Dorian’s voice threading through every doubt I hadn’t dared name.

Maybe I should’ve asked more questions. Maybe I should’ve run when I had the chance. But all I could think about was how easily they erased the kind of men who had always walked freely.

And for once—I didn’t want to survive it. I wanted to stop it.

“I want to do it,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended. A shaky breath followed as I glanced between Olivia and Dorian. “I want to become a vampire.”

There was no taking it back now.

Dorian’s smile spread across his face, not mocking or smug, just... pleased. Like he’d been waiting for me to say it all along.

“I knew I liked something about you,” he said, and then—just like that—his fangs extended.

It wasn’t like in the movies. There was no dramatic sound effect, no flash of red in his eyes. Just the smooth, natural shift of a predator showing its teeth.

Without hesitation, he bit into his own wrist. Blood welled from the two small punctures, dark and gleaming in the moonlight.

He held it out to me like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t the single most irreversible choice I’d ever make.

“Drink,” he said, voice low. “The next part won’t be comfortable, but when you wake up... you’ll be stronger than you’ve ever been.”

I stared at the blood.

Then at him.

And then—at everything I was about to leave behind.

I didn’t say anything. Just nodded.

Swallowed hard.

Never in my life did I think I’d have to drink someone else’s blood. But if this new life required it… I figured I might as well get used to it now.

The alley felt colder suddenly, like the air itself was bracing for what came next. I could still smell smoke on my coat, and under it—something coppery and sharp. Blood, maybe. Or fear. Hard to tell anymore.

I reached for his arm and lowered my mouth to his wrist.

The taste was warm. Metallic. Too human to feel holy. Too ancient to feel wrong. It slid across my tongue like a promise I didn’t fully understand—but couldn’t turn away from either.

When I finally pulled back, Dorian was still watching me. Still smiling. Like he’d seen this moment a hundred times, and it never stopped fascinating him.

“So... now what?” I asked, though the weight of what I’d just done was already settling in my bones.

“Now for the not-so-fun part,” he said softly, his hands lifting to either side of my face. His fingers were cold—but steady. Reverent, almost. Like I was something sacred to him now.

“Welcome to the family.”

I didn’t get the chance to say anything else.

There was a crack of bone, a flash of pain—

—and then, silence.

The world folded in on itself. And I fell with it.