Evelyn’s POV.

I didn’t remember moving.

One second, the jogger was crossing the street—headphones in, sweat beading at her collarbone.

The next, I was in front of her.

My breath came in short, panicked bursts. But it wasn’t fear I was breathing in. It was her. The warmth. The scent. The hum of her pulse beneath skin. Every instinct screamed at me to close the gap. To taste. To claim.

Her eyes widened. She stumbled back. “Oh—sorry, I didn’t see you—”

She didn’t finish the sentence.

I grabbed her.

My hands moved without thought, shoving her back into the alley beside us. My fingers curled around her arms, too tight, too fast, and my mouth—

It opened on Instinct.

I saw her neck. Pale, flushed, delicate.

And then I sank my teeth in.

Hot. Salted. Electric.

The world blurred. There was no Evelyn anymore—only this heat in my throat, this burn that disappeared the second her blood touched my tongue.

She screamed.

I didn’t care.

She writhed.

Still didn’t care.

All I wanted was more.

Until I was dragged off her.

Gideon’s grip was brutal. He threw me against the wall, his eyes glowing crimson, his voice cutting like glass. “Control yourself!”

I gasped, licking blood from my lips, dizzy with hunger and guilt. “She’s fine,” I lied. “She’ll be fine—”

“She’s not food,” he growled. “Not yet. You were supposed to wait.”

I looked down at the girl, slumped on the concrete, pulse fluttering like a dying bird. “I didn’t mean to. I—I couldn’t stop.”

“You didn’t want to stop.”

That shut me up.

I pressed my back to the wall and slid down it, knees pulled to my chest. My hands were shaking. So were my thoughts.

What the hell was I becoming?

Gideon knelt beside the girl and pressed two fingers to her neck. “She’s alive. Barely.” Then, to me: “She won’t remember. I’ll see to it.”

I couldn’t speak.

Not because I didn’t want to. But because I was still tasting her blood in my mouth.

And craving more.

The hospital smelled the same. Sterile. Cold. Familiar in all the wrong ways.

But this time, there was light in the room.

Claire sat up in her bed, wearing real clothes, her IVs removed, her cheeks no longer ghost-pale. The nurses were fussing around her, printing out her release papers, smiling like they hadn’t all expected her to die just a few days ago.

She looked… alive.

Whole.

“Evelyn!” she beamed the second she saw me. Her voice cracked a little, unused for too long. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“I haven’t.” I crossed the room quickly and wrapped her in a hug. She felt warm in my arms, warm and breathing and solid. “You’re really okay?”

She pulled back to look me in the eye. “I’m… tired. And everything still feels a little surreal. But yeah. I’m okay.” She touched her temple. “No more seizures. No coma. It’s like I just… woke up from a dream.”

I smiled, but it felt stiff. “I’m glad. That’s all that matters.”

Claire tilted her head. “Is it?”

I swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been asking around. Doctors don’t know what happened. They say it was spontaneous remission, but they all look confused when they say it. Evelyn, I know you. I know you did something.”

My heart pounded louder than it should have. I couldn’t tell if it was guilt or thirst.

“Claire—”

“No more lies,” she said gently. “I’ve been lying still for weeks, but I was still there… inside my head. I could hear you sometimes. I know you were desperate. So just tell me the truth.”

I looked at her, really looked. Her heartbeat was steady. Her breath moved slow and deep. She was so human. So fragile.

What would she do if she knew?

I reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I did whatever I had to. I’d do it again.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I gave something up… something I can’t take back.”

Claire’s brow furrowed. “Like what? Money? A favor?”

I looked away.

That quiet hung between us for a long moment. Finally, she asked, “Are you in trouble?”

“…Not yet.”

The door creaked open and the nurse popped her head in. “You’re all set, Claire. A wheelchair will be in soon to bring you down.”

Claire smiled politely, then looked back to me. “You’re being weird.”

“Yeah,” I exhaled. “It’s been that kind of week.”

We didn’t say anything else until the chair arrived. I helped her in and followed her down the hall, trying to ignore the way every pulse I passed whispered to me. Every heartbeat. Every vein. Every smell.

I was still smiling when we stepped outside into the sun.

But behind my sunglasses, my eyes weren’t human anymore.

And my fangs ached.

We made it to the car in silence. Claire sat in the passenger seat, breathing slow, glancing at me every few seconds like she was watching a stranger.

Halfway down the road, she finally said, “You keep looking at me weird. Like… like I’m food or something.”

I slammed the brakes.

She yelped. “What the hell, Evelyn?!”

I pulled off to the side, killing the engine. My hands trembled on the wheel.

“I need to tell you something,” I said. My throat was dry. “And I don’t know how.”

She stared at me. “Okay…”

I turned to her, pulling off my sunglasses.

Her breath caught.

My eyes weren’t brown anymore. They shimmered, glowing faintly gold, rimmed with something dark—feral. Inhuman.

“I made a deal to save you,” I said. “The only kind of deal that works when everything else fails.”

Her face went pale. “Evelyn… what did you do?”

“I’m not like you anymore. I can’t be.” I swallowed. “I’m a vampire.”

She blinked, once. Twice. Then let out a weak laugh. “You’re messing with me.”

I looked away, then let my fangs descend, just enough.

Her laughter died instantly.

She started to cry. “Oh my god. What have you done?”