Evelyn’s POV.

I woke to silence.

Not the peaceful kind.

This silence throbbed. It had weight. Presence. It listened.

My body screamed. Skin slick and cold. Every nerve felt wrong. My lips cracked when I tried to move them. My heart—

No.

No heartbeat. Just a slow throb in my veins that wasn’t mine.

I gasped, bolting upright.

The room tilted violently. Sounds hit me all at once—the faint hum of electricity in the walls, the dripping faucet two rooms away, the steady thud-thud of a heartbeat nearby. Louder than it should’ve been.

Too loud.

Not mine.

The bed was soft, unfamiliar. The sheets smelled of cedar, dust, and something metallic beneath it all. My hands trembled as I pushed myself up.

And then—

The memory.

The deal.

The bite.

Gideon Blackwell.

The door creaked open.

He stood there, backlit by golden candlelight, a shadow in human shape. Still. Calm. Watching.

“What the hell did you do to me?” I rasped, voice raw and foreign in my throat.

He stepped inside. “I kept my promise.”

I tried to rise but stumbled. Gideon caught me easily, effortlessly. His grip was too cold. Too strong.

“I feel like I’m dying,” I choked out.

“You already did,” he said quietly. “This is you waking up.”

My stomach dropped.

“What does that mean?” My voice cracked. “What am I?”

Gideon’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’re one of us now.”

My breath caught.

“No—” I backed away, chest heaving. “No, no, I didn’t ask for this.”

“You begged me,” he said. “You said you’d give anything to save your sister. This is what ‘anything’ looks like.”

I could hear it again—the heartbeat just outside the door. So alive. The pulse called to me, made my mouth water with something that wasn’t hunger. Not normal hunger. This was need.

Unholy.

Wrong.

My vision sharpened. I could see every detail of Gideon’s face—the texture of his skin, the faint crack in his bottom lip, the flicker of heat in his eyes.

“I need…” I clutched my throat. “Water. Please.”

He shook his head. “That won’t help you now.”

The door creaked again. A young woman passed the hallway. I didn’t even see her face—just the sound of her blood. The warmth under her skin. My teeth ached.

I lunged before I knew I’d moved.

Gideon caught me, slammed me back against the wall with impossible speed. “Control it,” he growled. “Now.”

My fangs tore through my gums. I gasped, horrified. “No, no—God, what’s happening to me?!”

“You’re turning,” he said, voice low. “You’re a vampire, Evelyn.”

The word hit like a blade.

“No,” I whispered. “That’s not real. That’s not real!”

Tears stung my eyes. My hands shook violently. “I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t want to become a monster!”

Gideon didn’t flinch. “Then learn not to be one.”

He crossed the room, opened a tall cabinet, and pulled out a blood bag. The sight of it twisted something inside me—not revulsion. Desire.

I backed away. “I won’t drink that. I can’t.”

“If you don’t, you’ll lose control,” he warned. “You’ll kill someone. Maybe her. Is that what you want?”

My lips trembled.

“You need to feed,” he said again, gentler now. “It’s blood or madness.”

I stared at the bag, my throat raw, my body shaking.

I snatched it.

The moment it touched my tongue, I broke.

The hunger roared awake, curling through my veins like fire. I drained it too fast, too greedy, too desperate. It was vile and perfect and horrifying.

And when I dropped the empty bag, I felt alive again.

No. Not alive.

Awake.

“You’ll need more,” Gideon said softly. “Soon.”

“I hate this,” I whispered. “I hate you.”

“I know,” he said. But he didn’t look away. “I’m the only one who can help you.”

Then he walked to the door.

“Don’t wait too long to give your sister the vial,” he murmured. “It won’t hold forever.”

The door shut.

And I sat in the silence again. But this time, I wasn’t alone.

The hunger was still with me.

It always would be.