The Vampire’s Prey

EMILIA

I’m Emilia Flynn, just your average 19-year-old girl… or at least, that’s what I thought.

Some people call me a nerd, but I’ve never really minded. If loving science and dreaming about med school makes me one, then fine, guilty as charged. I’d finally gotten into college, excited for the lectures, the late-night study sessions, the white coats… everything I’d worked so hard for.

I had a plan. A damn good one.

But life? Life had a different script. It didn’t just throw a wrench into my plans; it burned the whole blueprint to ashes.

And now here I am, standing at the edge of something I don’t understand, something terrifying and impossible.

You might want to buckle up… because what started as the best chapter of my life quickly spiraled into a ride so insane, so devastating, I still can’t believe it happened.

“Bitch, get up; we need to unleash something tonight!” Sasha declared, already swaying her hips to music only she could hear.

That was my best friend, Sasha—chaotic, dramatic, and full of bad decisions wrapped in glitter. We were polar opposites, which often left people wondering how we’d even ended up as friends.

While my life goal was to discover the cure for cancer, hers was to one day meet Nicki Minaj and maybe twerk on stage with her. Priorities, I guess.

I rolled my eyes and calmly reopened the textbook she had just closed with a slap. “Sasha, I have a lot of work to do,” I muttered, knowing full well it was a wasted effort. Sasha didn’t back down from anything, especially not from dragging me to something stupid in the name of fun.

“I’m not going to some party filled with students who should be studying instead of grinding in overly short skirts like someone just found the cure for cancer on the dance floor.”

She gasped dramatically. “Girl, that’s the exact reason you need to go! You need to loosen up. No one’s handing out Nobel Prizes tonight—just shots and possible regrets!”

“But…” I started, already dreading where this was going.

Sasha held up a black leather mini dress like it was a sacred artifact. “This would look so good on you.”

I scoffed. “No way I’m wearing that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Then why do you even own it?”

“Because you gifted it to me, bitch,” I said, folding my arms.

“Exactly! That means it was hand-picked by someone who knows you better than your own reflection,” she grinned, already tossing it at me.

I stared at the dress in my hands like it might bite. “C’mon, Mrs. Aisten,” she teased, using the nickname she gave me whenever I acted like a seventy-year-old science professor. “I promise I won’t stress you.”

We both knew that was a lie.

Still, I sighed. “It’s just one party,” I muttered, trying to convince myself more than her. One night out can’t change my life… right?

“Okay, fine. I’ll go,” I said reluctantly, the words tasting like defeat.

A wide, smug smile spread across Sasha’s face, like she hadn’t already known she was going to win. “I knew you loved me,” she sang, spinning on her heels and diving back into my closet like it was her personal playground.

I shook my head, muttering under my breath, “More like you wore me down.”

But even I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. That was the thing about Sasha: she was persistent, annoying, and wildly chaotic… But somehow, it worked.

And deep down, a part of me hoped that maybe, just maybe, she was right. That a party wouldn’t change my life.

Not in the way it did.

The party was exactly what I expected: loud music, flashing lights, and bodies moving like no one had a single care in the world.

Laughter echoed off the walls, drinks spilled without apology, and someone had already climbed on a table two songs in. Classic.

Sasha had tried hard to get me into that mini leather dress, but even she knew when to pick her battles. I showed up in my usual vibe: a simple flowy dress my grandma gifted me for my 17th birthday, and of course, my glasses still firmly on my face like a shield.

I stuck out like a math textbook at a rave.

But I didn’t care. I wasn’t here to impress anyone. I was here because Sasha had the persistence of a demon on espresso.

“Try to smile, at least?” She shouted over the music, already dancing like she’d been waiting for this moment her whole life.

I managed a half-smile and gave her a thumbs-up. She rolled her eyes, grabbed some random guy’s hand, and disappeared into the crowd.

I stood by the wall, quietly regretting all my life choices up to this point.

“Hey, nerd.”

The voice dripped with sarcasm, and I didn’t even need to turn to know who it was.

Still, I glanced over my shoulder, and yep. There she was.

Claribel.

Flanked, as always, by her loyal sidekicks Bella and Rose, who stood behind her like knockoff backup dancers in matching heels and too much perfume.

Claribel’s gaze swept over me from head to toe, her eyes narrowing like I’d just offended her with my very existence. “Wow,” she sneered, “still rocking the grandma aesthetic, huh?”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to.

We’d gone to the same high school; she was the lead cheerleader, child of disgustingly rich parents, and a walking, talking cliché of everything wrong with reality TV. A spoiled brat with a crown complex.

And somehow, she’d ended up here too.

“Don’t mess things up. I’ll be watching you,” Claribel muttered, giving my shoulder a not-so-subtle shove as she walked past, her perfume cloud trailing behind her like toxic smoke.

I stared after her, my jaw clenched.

Who did she think she was, threatening me like that? Sure, I knew exactly who she was. Claribel Quinn, queen of petty and heiress to God-knows-what, but that didn’t mean she got to talk to me like I was beneath her.

Still, the sting in my shoulder wasn’t nearly as bad as the sting of regret creeping into my chest.

This whole thing—this dumb, crowded, sweaty party—was a mistake. A bad one.

And just as I was mentally preparing to ghost the entire night and sneak back to my dorm, I felt it.

A strange, sharp pull in my chest.

My eyes widened. My breath caught.

Shit.

I reached into my purse and fumbled through the contents, panic crawling up my spine.

Shit. I forgot my medication. The one I’ve been taking since I was twelve—the one no doctor ever explained to me.

My legs felt weak, and my vision started to blur. A sharp pain spread through my body, and even breathing felt like a battle I was losing—each inhale a razor-edged chore, each exhale a silent scream.

It felt like my muscles were locking up.

I struggled toward the restroom to call Sasha. What should’ve been a thirty-second walk felt like it stretched on forever. My hands trembled as I reached for my phone, but my vision was too blurry to see the screen. I was already slipping, losing control—and falling.

I was already losing my grip, falling, my vision dimming into darkness—until strong arms caught me. A voice, deep and steady, vibrated through me like a lifeline. “Valeska.” That was all I heard. I couldn’t see clearly… Only a flash of green eyes, vivid and unforgettable, before everything faded.