Three weeks without seeing Alessio should have been a relief. Instead, Scarlett found herself scanning every shadow, jumping at every sound, waiting for the monster to return and finish what he'd started.

The bite marks on her neck had healed within days. No scars. No evidence except the memory of his fangs sinking into her skin and the terrifying warmth in his voice when he'd said she was safe.

She didn't believe it. Monsters didn't let their prey go.

So she waited. Kept a knife under her pillow. Checked the locks three times before bed. Walked to the club via different routes every night.

But he never came.

Marco noticed her paranoia on day five.

"You're acting weird," he said while she was crushing his morning pills. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"Liar."

She forced a smile. "Eat your breakfast."

At the club, Antonio acted like nothing had changed. "Mr. De Luca was very satisfied with your performance," he'd said the first night back. "Very satisfied indeed."

"Is he coming back?"

"No." Antonio had looked almost disappointed. "Paid for the entire night but said he wouldn't require your services again."

Scarlett should have felt relieved. Instead she felt something uncomfortably close to rejection.

So why did she keep looking for him in the VIP section?

---

Five hundred miles away, Alessio stood on the balcony of his villa and tried to convince himself that staying away was the right choice.

"You've been brooding for three weeks." Elena's voice came from behind him. His most trusted guard. "It's getting tedious."

"Then leave."

"Want to talk about what happened at Club Desiderio?"

"No."

"You spared someone. That's not like you."

"People change."

"Not you." Elena turned to study his face. "So what made this girl different?"

Her blood made him feel human. Made him feel warmth and sensation and things he'd thought were dead centuries ago.

It was the most dangerous thing he'd felt in four hundred years.

"She was boring," he said flatly. "Not worth the effort."

Elena didn't believe him. But she was smart enough not to push.

"Marcus wants to know why you paid ten million for a stripper and then didn't kill her. Says it makes you look weak."

"Marcus can say that to my face if he'd like his tongue removed."

Alessio's hands tightened on the balcony railing. The stone cracked under his grip.

Feeling human was weakness. The girl was a distraction he couldn't afford.

"I'm not going back to that club," he said. "Make sure everyone knows."

It was the right decision. The smart decision.

So why did it feel like he'd lost something irreplaceable?

---

Kieran started showing up on Scarlett's second night back.

He sat front row center, that white suit practically glowing. His smile was charming. His eyes were cold.

After her set, Antonio pulled her aside. "Mr. Volkov would like a private dance."

"No."

"He's offering twenty thousand."

"Still no."

The next night, the offer went up to thirty thousand. Then fifty. Then seventy-five.

"What's wrong with him?" Annabelle asked. "He's gorgeous and rich. Why won't you just give him one dance?"

"Instinct."

Everything about Kieran Volkov screamed danger.

He started showing up every night. Always front row. Always watching. Always making increasingly generous offers that she always refused.

But Kieran wasn't content to just watch from the club.

---

She noticed the car on her way to Marco's hospital appointment. Black sedan. Tinted windows. It stayed three cars back but took every turn she did.

The next day, she saw it again. Parked across from the grocery store. And the day after that, idling near Marco's hospital.

Someone was following her.

At the club, she pulled Annabelle aside. "Has anyone been asking about me?"

Annabelle bit her lip. "There was this one guy. Offered me five hundred bucks to tell him your schedule."

Ice slid down Scarlett's spine. "What did you tell him?"

"Nothing! I told him to fuck off."

"What did he look like?"

"Tall. Blonde. Wore a white suit."

Of course he did.

Scarlett started varying her routes home. Started checking over her shoulder constantly. Started carrying pepper spray.

She saw him everywhere. In her periphery at the hospital. Across the street from her apartment. Always just far enough away that she couldn't confront him.

He was hunting her. And he wanted her to know it.

---

Two weeks after Kieran started his stalking, Scarlett noticed Annabelle acting strange.

Her friend kept checking her phone between sets. Jumping at sudden noises. Avoiding eye contact.

"You okay?" Scarlett asked.

"Fine. Totally fine."

Scarlett didn't believe her, but she let it drop.

That night after her final set, Scarlett was heading to her car when she saw Annabelle in the parking lot talking to someone. A man. They were standing in the shadows between two cars, but Scarlett could see Annabelle's body language. Tense. Defensive.

The man moved closer. Said something Scarlett couldn't hear.

Annabelle shook her head. Backed away.

The man caught her arm.

Before Scarlett could intervene, Annabelle pulled free and hurried back toward the club.

Something about the interaction made her skin crawl.

She made a mental note to talk to Annabelle tomorrow.

But tomorrow came too late.

---

Scarlett arrived at the club two hours early the next evening. The main floor was empty except for cleaning staff.

That's when she heard it.

A sound from the storage room. Muffled. Like someone trying to scream.

Every instinct told her to run.

But her feet moved forward.

The storage room door was slightly open. Just a crack. Enough to see inside.

Annabelle was suspended against the wall, her feet dangling. And attached to her throat like a leech was Kieran.

But not the charming man in the white suit. This was something monstrous. His face had changed. Elongated. His fangs were easily three inches long and buried deep in Annabelle's neck.

Blood ran down her chest in rivers. Her eyes were wide and glassy.

She was dying.

Scarlett's hand flew to her mouth.

Annabelle's eyes found hers. Pleading. Desperate.

"Please," Annabelle whispered. "Please..."

Kieran drank harder. Faster.

Annabelle's struggles grew weaker. Her hands fell to her sides. Her head lolled back.

Then she went completely still.

Kieran kept drinking for another ten seconds. Making sure she was empty.

When he finally pulled back, his face was covered in blood. He let Annabelle's corpse drop to the floor like garbage.

That's when his head snapped up.

His eyes locked onto Scarlett's through the crack in the door. Pure black. Inhuman. Hungry.

Blood dripped from his fangs as he smiled.

"Well," he said, his voice a purr of satisfaction. "Looks like I've found my dessert."

---