The night bled red.
A full moon hung low, its eerie glow casting shadows over the burning city. Screams echoed through the cobbled streets, blending with the crackle of fire and the metallic scent of blood. The Dark Moon Society had finally made their move. War had begun.
A group of masked figures stormed the grand gates of the Gomez estate, torches in hand. Their leader, a tall man with piercing crimson eyes, raised a gloved hand. "Find them. Make them talk."
Inside, Julio Gomez shielded his wife, Maria, his arms trembling but firm. The grand estate, once a haven of wealth and power, now felt like a death trap. The ornate chandelier above them swayed slightly, its gold chains reflecting the distant flames outside.
"Julio," Maria whispered, her voice thick with fear. "We can't win this."
"We don't betray our own," he said, gripping her hand tightly.
The heavy doors burst open. Don Ermont stepped inside, his black sunglasses reflecting the inferno outside. A thick fur coat rested over his broad shoulders, his white beard barely moving as he smirked. The rich scent of cigars and aged whiskey clung to him, a stark contrast to the stench of blood in the air.
"Julio," Don Ermont sighed. "We started together. Apprentices in the Dark Moon Society. But you chose the wrong side."
Julio's jaw clenched. "You chose greed."
Don Ermont chuckled. "And look where it got me." He gestured around. "I am powerful. You? Just another rat hiding in a burning house."
Maria tightened her grip on Julio's arm. "Please, Ermont. We are not your enemies."
Don Ermont's smirk vanished. "Kill them."
A flash of silver. The sharp clang of a blade meeting bone. Maria's scream was cut short. Blood splattered the once-pristine floor, its deep red reflection flickering in the firelight.
A baby's cry pierced the night. A lone figure in black boots stepped forward, lifted the infant, and disappeared into the shadows.
Inside a wooden cabinet, cloaked in shadows, the unknown man cradled the infant close to his chest. His breath was steady, despite the carnage just outside. "You'll live," he whispered. "No matter what."
The door creaked. Footsteps approached. The man tensed, holding the baby tighter.
A soldier paused just inches from the cabinet, his blade dripping with fresh blood. His eyes scanned the room before moving on.
The man inside exhaled in relief. Then, as silent as the wind, he vanished into the night.
A penthouse in New Sheer loomed over the city, its tinted windows reflecting the sea of neon lights below. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, cigars, and liquor. Red and gold chandeliers cast a warm glow over the room, illuminating bodies swaying to the slow rhythm of a jazz band in the corner.
"Toff! Over here!"
Toff, tall and broad-shouldered, cut through the crowd. His dark brown skin glowed under the dim lights, his jaw tight as his eyes scanned the room. His best friend, Norm, with his glasses on and pale complexion, waved him over.
"Bro, meet Alexa."
Alexa had wild curls and sun-kissed skin. She tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips. "So, you're Toff?"
Toff arched a brow. "That obvious?"
Norm laughed. "Bro, you're the damn basketball captain. Half the girls in this city wanna know you."
Alexa leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't care about sports, but you... you seem interesting."
Before Toff could respond, a sudden scream shattered the music.
"WASPS! RUN!"
Chaos erupted. People shoved and tripped over furniture, glasses crashed to the ground. Toff grabbed Alexa's hand and yanked her close.
"Stay with me!"
Then, he saw it.
A body. Motionless. Lifeless.
A bite mark on the leg.
Toff's stomach churned. He turned to Norm. "That's not a wasp sting."
Norm's face drained of color. "Then what the fuck is it?"
Alexa hesitated, her fingers twitching. She wanted to use her magic, to stop whatever force was attacking them. But no one knew she was a witch. And now was not the time to reveal it.
Within the grand halls of the Mondec Empire, fifteen hooded figures sat around an obsidian table, their faces hidden in shadow. The scent of burning incense and aged parchment filled the air, thick with unspoken oaths and dark power.
A deep voice cut through the silence. "Welcome."
A regal man stepped forward, his long black coat flowing behind him. His pale skin gleamed under the dim torchlight, his fangs barely visible beneath his smirk.
"I am Lord Vald," he declared. "Leader of the Mondec Empire."
Whispers spread through the room. Some voices trembled. Others hummed with anticipation.
Lord Vald raised a hand. "Silence. Bring the prisoner."
Down in the dungeon, the air was thick with iron and rot. Chains rattled as guards unlocked a heavy metal door. Inside, a girl sat against the wall, her wrists bruised from the shackles.
Vald stepped inside. "Your fate is sealed."
The girl's lips trembled. "Please… I'll do anything."
Vald kneeled, his cold fingers tracing her jaw. "Anything?"
She nodded, tears streaming down her face.
He smirked, then pressed his lips against hers in a deep, slow kiss. She shuddered, not from desire, but from the venom he transferred into her veins.
Moments later, she gasped, convulsing as her body twisted into something monstrous. Skin split, fangs lengthened, and her once-innocent eyes turned black as night.
Vald stood, satisfied. "Welcome to your new life."
Stepping out, he wrapped a towel around his waist and ran a hand through his damp hair. The faint hum of the television echoed from the living room, but it wasn't the noise that made him pause—it was the scent.
Thick. Metallic.
Blood.
Toff padded down the hallway, his heartbeat loud in his ears. As he reached the dining area, the scene before him made his stomach tighten.
His Uncle, Gilbert, sat at the long mahogany table, slicing into raw meat with calculated ease. The soft glow of the chandelier above highlighted his toned arms, the way his muscles flexed with each slow, deliberate movement. His shirt was undone at the top, revealing a glimpse of his sculpted chest. His sharp jawline, kissed with a shadow of stubble, gave him an air of effortless dominance.
Toff swallowed hard. "Dad?"
Gilbert barely looked up. His piercing blue eyes, cold and unreadable, flicked toward Toff before returning to his task. A faint smirk played on his lips, sensual and knowing. "Hungry?"
Toff's gaze dropped to the plate. The fresh cut of meat glistened under the soft light, its deep crimson color far too raw for comfort.
He hesitated, fingers tightening around the soda can he had just grabbed from the fridge. "I'm good."
Gilbert's smirk deepened, a silent acknowledgment that spoke volumes.
Toff didn't ask questions.
He wasn't ready for the answers.
The car rocked gently, its windows fogged from the heat inside. Moonlight barely pierced through the thick trees, casting eerie shadows over the vehicle. Inside, tangled between damp sheets and hurried breath, two bodies moved as one—hungry, desperate, lost in the moment.
The girl arched her back, her fingers clawing at his shoulders as she let out a soft moan. His lips trailed down her neck, lingering at the delicate curve of her collarbone. The scent of sweat and musk filled the confined space. Their clothes were discarded haphazardly, the heat between them overpowering the cool night outside.
"You're perfect," he murmured against her skin, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her closer.
A sudden noise snapped her out of the trance. A low rustling, the crunch of leaves outside.
She froze. "Did you hear that?" Her voice was barely a whisper, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
The guy groaned, breathless, his lips still trailing her shoulder. "Probably just the wind."
Then—bang.
The car jolted. Hard.
Both sat up, the heat between them instantly replaced with cold fear.
"Shit," he muttered, reaching for his jeans.
Another thud. This time, the car swayed slightly, as though something—no, several somethings—circled it.
A deep, guttural growl echoed through the mist.
The girl turned to the fogged-up side mirror. Her breath hitched. "Oh my God."
A pair of glowing yellow eyes stared back at her. Then another. And another. The fog around the car seemed to move, twisting and shifting, until hulking figures emerged. Wolves. Large, monstrous, with thick matted fur and gleaming fangs dripping with saliva.
One of them stepped forward, its body unnaturally massive. It wasn't just a wolf. It was something more—something ancient, something cursed. Its lips curled, exposing jagged teeth.
The first wolf lunged.
A scream tore through the night.
Claws ripped through flesh. Blood splattered against the windshield, painting it deep crimson.
The guy was yanked backward, his body slammed against the door before being dragged out into the darkness. His scream was short-lived—cut off by the sickening crunch of bone.
The girl, frozen in horror, scrambled for the handle, but a heavy hand wrapped around her throat.
She gasped, her wide eyes locking onto the figure now inside the car with her. A man. Pale skin, sharp jawline, his eyes an unnatural shade of green. His fangs gleamed under the moonlight as he loomed over her.
She trembled, her voice barely a whisper. "Who… are you?"
He smirked, brushing a cold finger along her cheek, down to her neck, where her pulse raced. "A messenger," he murmured, tilting her chin up. "And a collector."
His lips hovered over hers before trailing lower. A whisper of a kiss against her skin—then the sharp sting of fangs piercing flesh.
A single word escaped her lips before the night swallowed her whole.
"Betrayal."