Chloe stood in the dimly lit room, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The air was thick with the scent of something metallic, like blood. Her hand pressed tightly against the bite mark on her neck, her fingers trembling as they grazed the tender, swollen flesh. Blood seeped through her fingertips, warm and sticky, a stark contrast to the cold fear that gripped her chest. She could feel the throbbing pulse of the wound, a relentless reminder of what had just happened. Her eyes, wide and ...