I sat in the SUV, the vibrations of the road humming through the tires and into my body. The motion was steady, soothing almost, but it couldn’t drown out the gnawing ache inside me. Hunger… it clawed at me. It was relentless, like a black hole swirling inside of my very soul; hungry… consuming everything around it until I disappeared into the darkness. If I didn’t eat… I knew something terrible would happen. Since the moment I opened my eyes in this new existence, it had been there, a constant companion… threatening to devour me. It wasn’t a simple craving born from it… it was a need. A raw and insistent urge that demanded to be fed.
My senses flared involuntarily, sharpening with a clarity that was both exhilarating and torturous. The stale scent of the car mingled with the richer, pungent aroma of the others inside. I could hear their blood pumping… strong and rhythmic, like the murmur of a distant bloody shoreline of crashing waves. The whisper of veins carried their lives in currents that pulsed louder the longer I listened. Each beat resonated, vibrating through me, igniting the hunger to unbearable levels. My ears began to burn at the sound.
But Martin… Martin was different. His scent didn’t blend into the symphony of mortal life surrounding me. It stood out, strange and layered. His blood wasn’t entirely human, not anymore. It carried something older, darker, as though shadows swirled within his veins. I could sense traces of animal blood mixed into him, earthy and feral, yet overshadowed by something inhuman. It throbbed with a potency that made my head swim, and my hunger sharpen into a blade.
My nails bit into the leather seat beneath me as I tried to hold myself together, but the void inside writhed, ravenous. It wanted to consume, to devour, to taste that difference in Martin, to feel the alien power coursing through him, and yet, it wasn’t just him. The others… it wanted them too, in a desperate, agonizing way that left me trembling.
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the hum of the tires, but the hunger only screamed louder. It was there, deep in my gut, gnawing and consuming me from within. It needed me to fill it. Then… I thought of him.
Sam. The guy tethered to Death itself, bound to something far beyond the simple concept of hunger. He wasn’t just danger in the abstract or general meaning… he was the embodiment of it, raw and unrelenting. Death in its purest, most inevitable form. The Grim Reaper stood at his back… not just a myth but a living force, carrying the weight of finality wherever he walked.
But there was something even darker that followed in his wake. Something ancient. Destruction, primordial and insatiable, like the void between stars. The Primeval. Sam had spoken of it in quiet, somber tones, the truth weighing heavy in his voice. It wasn’t just a part of him… it was him, in some inexplicable way. The entity that craved not blood, but the annihilation of all things, an urge so vast and consuming it was hard to even comprehend.
And yet, Sam resisted. Every second, every breath, he stood against that power, holding back the tide of destruction it demanded. The sheer force of will it must take to fight something so all-encompassing... It was terrifying, yes, but it also planted a fragile wisp of hope within me. Maybe I could fight back too.
If Sam could resist that… if he could push back against the very embodiment of doom, then maybe I could resist my hunger. My craving couldn’t be as vast or incomprehensible as his. Mine didn’t demand the obliteration of existence itself. It wanted blood, life. That was simple in comparison, wasn’t it?
I felt the familiar ache rise in me, sharp and gnawing, but this time, I didn’t let it take hold. I closed my eyes, steadying myself as I thought of Sam, of his defiance. I could feel the pull, the primal need that clawed at my insides, but I focused on the faint glimmer of hope instead.
All I could do was push against the swirling black hole and say one word in my mind. NO! I said it over and over until I finally felt something. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, I felt the hunger retreat, just a little. Not gone, not defeated, but pushed back… enough for me to breathe again… and realize… it may be possible. Enough for me to believe it might not consume me after all. I wouldn’t consume my family.
The hum of life in the vehicle was constant, but the silence within was suffocating as I struggled internally. It pressed down on me as we glided along the dark road, the only other sound was the faint rhythm of tires meeting asphalt. No one spoke. Maybe they couldn’t, or maybe it was just me trapped in the deafening quiet. Kayla sat still beside me, her posture calm, almost serene. She stared ahead at Mom and Dad in the front seat, but I knew she was watching me from the corners of her eyes, her body coiled with tension ever so slightly. Such a minuscule detail I didn’t think I would have ever noticed before… when things weren’t this sharp.
Mom’s gaze flicked back to me every few seconds, filled with worry she couldn’t hide. I could feel it like a weight in the air. Martin sat close, his frame taut, ready to intervene if I so much as twitched wrong or threateningly. He was the only one visibly on edge, but I knew the unease rippled through all of them. I was different now… a… I wasn't sure.
Kayla’s arms wrapped tightly around me at one point after relaxing with time, holding on like she was afraid I’d vanish into thin air. Her grip was warm and protective, but I couldn’t shake the strangeness of it. Being so close to my family, yet feeling so alien, so fundamentally wrong. Their love felt almost foreign now, like a relic from another life, a world I no longer belonged to; even though I yearned for them more than anything.
By the time we pulled into the long, curving driveway, the world outside felt distant, like I’d spent the drive in a trance. My strength was spent just keeping myself contained. The house loomed ahead, familiar and warm, but I barely registered it. We were inside before I even realized, my family fluttered around me like frantic birds, trying to anticipate my needs.
Kayla stayed glued to my side at first, her presence a shadow that never wavered. Dad filled a glass of water and set it on the counter. Martin lingered in the background, silent and unyielding. Everyone made sounds as we entered the house. It was all so loud, so sharp in my ears. I could hear everything… and it was miserable; like waking up with a hangover and someone started practicing piano.
Mom led me upstairs to the bathroom, her hand steady on my back. I didn’t resist. My legs felt heavy, my body trembling from the strain of it all. The blood that still clung to me, dried and sticky in the creases of my arms and neck, was a cruel reminder of how far I’d fallen. I remembered through violent flashes of images, the red mist that I sucked down greedily. The nurturing fog of life that I ripped away from those people. It stained me… a grisly reminder of my first kills. Then I had a thought… were they… innocent? Were they just people?
I started to feel queasy, and my knees began to jerk as I lost a little stability from the horror of my thoughts.
Mom turned on the water, letting the steam rise before guiding me beneath the spray. Her hands worked gently, helping me take off the filthy clothes and washing away the blood. I was silent, staring into nothing as I remembered the terror of everything I did in that fugue state. Mom’s touch felt both grounding and unbearable, her care carving through my numbness in sharp, agonizing ways. And then, the tears came… bloody and flowing.
I didn’t know why I was crying… why blood streaked my cheeks in silent trails. Maybe it was the reality sinking in, the weight of being here, with her, in a moment so ordinary yet so devastatingly real.
“I’m still here,” Mom whispered, her voice breaking as she wrapped her arms around me. She cried too, her tears mingling with the water as she held me close. “We’ll get through this. You’re not alone.”
I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to believe her so badly. But I didn’t say anything, couldn’t find the words. I just held on, clinging to her as though her warmth could keep me tethered to the person I used to be.
When we finally came downstairs, I felt clean, though the weight inside me hadn’t lifted. My clothes were soft against my skin… one of my old workout shirts and sweats, the familiar fabric a fragile comfort. The house felt impossibly warm, a bubble of peace I desperately needed.
The others were waiting in the living room. Dad sat across from the couch, Martin beside him, both of them watching me as I moved like I was something fragile and volatile. Kayla hovered near the armrest; her presence unwavering.
I sank into the cushions, steadying myself as Dad placed the glass of water on the table in front of me. The room was quiet again, but this silence was different. It wasn’t empty. It wasn’t suffocating. It was full of unspoken words, of shared fears and fragile hope.
And as I sat there, I made the decision again. No- to the hunger. No- to the monster inside me. No- to losing this… to losing them. Step by step, breath by breath, I would hold on. For them. For me. For whatever future might still be waiting.
Martin’s dark eyebrow quirked as he glanced at the glass of water, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. It was a simple gesture, but it mirrored the unease twisting in my chest. Neither of us said anything, though. What was there to say? We both knew water wasn’t what I needed.
I could feel it… the itch at the back of my throat, the gnawing emptiness clawing at my ribs. The hunger was there, alive and insistent, pooling in the hollow place deep within me. I swallowed hard, pretending the water might help, even as I knew it wouldn’t.
“Sam was there with you?” Dad’s voice broke the silence. The words were calm, but the tension in them was unmistakable.
“Where was he?” Mom’s voice followed, softer but just as edged.
Martin answered for me, his tone smooth and measured. “He kept a safe distance… from her.” His glance slid to me, careful, but not accusatory.
I felt their gazes on me, questions simmering just below the surface. I shifted under the weight of it, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. If they wanted answers, I’d give them what I could… what I dared.
“I could feel it in him,” I began, my voice low but steady. “The thing he told me about… the Primeval. Has he told you what it is?”
Dad nodded grimly, his expression dark with understanding. Mom didn’t look as convinced, though. Her eyes were softer, filled with the kind of trust I could never understand.
“The way it follows him. The way it looms behind everything he does.” I hesitated, my gaze dropping to my hands. “It’s not just him. It’s what’s inside him… what he’s tied to. It’s so much bigger than any of us. When I was with Sam,” I continued, “deeper in the city… I felt it, that killing power. But then I felt Kayla. I caught her scent, and it pulled me away from him. I could feel what was inside her, the new lives growing with her blood. And in that moment, it was like… like they were in danger. Like I had to get to them, to protect them… from Sam.” I pointed to Kayla, my voice tightening as the memory clawed at me. “It wasn’t anything he did. It wasn’t aggression. It was just this… presence. This inescapable feeling that he would eventually hurt them, whether he wanted to or not. That he would kill them… kill all of us…”
“Sam would never do that, Autumn,” Mom said, her voice breaking with emotion. “I don’t know what you’re feeling right now, or how all of this works, but maybe you were just sensing the power behind him. Being tied directly to Death… it’s not something we can fully understand. But I know Sam… and he wouldn’t harm them… any of us. Not intentionally.”
Her words were reasonable. Probably even true. But they didn’t stop the dread, the instinctual urge to pull Kayla and those babies as far from Sam as I could. Thank God I felt them when I did.
I clenched my teeth, guilt twisting through me. I’d made this my burden. I’d taken Patrick out of the equation, ripped his life from the world. And now, those babies… his babies… felt like they were mine to protect. I owed them that… curse or not… it was my hands that killed him.
“Can we go over everything that happened?” I asked, breaking the brief silence. “Sam told me his side… what he knew, but I want to hear it… all of it. From the ones who witnessed everything.”
The room stilled, tension settling thick as we braced to unravel what had brought us here. My curse and my death… and whatever we were living in now. I knew that the answers wouldn’t bring peace, but I needed them all the same.
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The hours bled together as we talked, each revelation of everything that had happened peeled back layers of pain and resilience they all carried for too long. Every moment was raw, every word heavy with meaning. As the hours wore on, more faces arrived, each stirring something different inside me… hope, guilt, joy, regret.
Arthur came first, at Kayla’s request. His presence was steady, and grounding, but the sadness in his eyes told me he knew more than he said. He didn’t press me, though. He simply sat with us, his quiet strength a comfort I hadn’t realized I needed. A familiarity that I latched onto the moment it arrived.
Clara and Wayland arrived together, but there was a gap where Delilah should have been. That absence hit harder than I expected. I tried not to let it show, but I felt the weight of her absence like a stone in my chest. Clara noticed and offered a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “She… will take some time,” she said, her voice soft but firm. I understood what wasn’t said. Delilah wasn’t afraid of me… they were. Honestly… I couldn’t blame Aunt Clara. I thought of looking into Delilah with my new senses, the sharpness dissecting her beating heart and blood flow… the hunger it would induce. I was thankful she wasn’t here… I would only feel like more of a monster.
When Uncle Frank barreled through the door, his bear hug lifted me off the ground. “Autumn!” he boomed, his voice full of unrestrained joy. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in him, no fear of what I’d become. He held me tight, reminding me what it felt like to be seen, not as a monster, but as family. Jane followed him in, her usual calm, strong presence softening the room somehow. Frank was putting on a show for me. I think he dealt with the magnitude of what happened already, behind closed doors. He wanted me to feel normal… as much as he could. He didn’t act like I was returned from the grave but from a vacation or something. Amidst all the heaviness and tears… I was thankful for Uncle Frank.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Then came Allen, my brother, with Eloise at his side. Our reunion hit differently, charged with emotions neither of us could quite put into words. He grabbed me, pulling me into a fierce embrace.
“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” he murmured against my shoulder, his voice thick with emotion. “Two kids from a monster-hunting family… turned into the very things we were taught to kill.”
I tried to respond, but the words caught in my throat. All I could manage was a nod and a whispered, “Yeah…” as I wiped at the blood-tinged tears threatening to stain his shirt.
Uncle Chris arrived next, with Aunt Raven and their daughters, Roxy, Rainy, and Rachel. Seeing them all together stirred something in me… vague memories of their faces blurred with the haze of my curse. They had been there, in some capacity, but I couldn’t grasp the details from my own point of view; only the recollection of my family. The guilt of those fractured memories lingered even as they embraced me, their smiles tentative but genuine. They were sorry and had few words for not being able to help me.
Later, Shelta walked in, and the room seemed to shift with her presence. My senses, sharpened by whatever I’d become, picked up on her in ways I never could before. She wasn’t just a person; she was a force, a presence that filled every corner of the space that housed us.
When her gaze fell on me, I froze. Fear prickled at the edges of my consciousness… not of her, but of what she might say, of how she might judge me. She moved toward me slowly, her expression unreadable. I glanced at Mom and Dad, who watched her carefully, but there was no fear in their eyes. They had spoken to her already; they knew things I didn’t.
When she reached me, Shelta knelt, her movements deliberate. Then she pulled me into an embrace that shattered my defenses and my fears of incoming judgment.
“I’m sorry for everything that’s happened, Autumn,” she said, her voice thick with sorrow. “You didn’t deserve this. None of it. Patrick didn’t mean for things to go this way. He admitted to me… he was weak. When the curse took hold of you, he just wanted something… anything, after he felt like he’d lost so much. It’s not an excuse… it’s just…”
I clung to her tightly, cutting her off before she could say more. “It wasn’t Patrick’s fault,” I whispered, my voice trembling. Memories trickled back, vivid and sharp. “I’m starting to remember bits here and there… he told me about the brush. We were going to lock it away. He never meant to use it. He was just handing it to me…” My voice faltered, choked by the weight of it all. “I’m sorry for what I did to him.”
Shelta pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes steady. “That wasn’t you,” she said firmly. “That was Peter Grimwood. He used you, Autumn… used you both… as a weapon to hurt this family. But he’s gone now. There’s not a shred of him left in this world. And Patrick… Patrick isn’t entirely gone. Pieces of him are still here.”
Her gaze shifted to Kayla, and I followed it, my eyes landing on her flat belly. The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the quiet sobs that began to ripple through us. Kayla cried, Shelta cried, and I… I let the tears come, too… bloody and thick.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I didn’t feel alone in my grief. We were all tied together by this pain, but at that moment, I didn’t feel like a monster. I felt like I was home.
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After the whirlwind of reunions, with every embrace and tear slowly stitching pieces of me back together, I felt a fragile semblance of belonging; a support I’d never imagined when I first realized what I’d become on that roof with Sam. The memory of that rooftop encounter, where Sam’s voice had been calm but his presence overwhelmingly destructive, still haunted me. His power had pressed against my very soul, lethal and inescapable like he had a dagger to my throat with the blade inching towards my artery. I didn’t think anything could compare to that moment. I just lived in the embrace of my loving family and the quietness of the house. I tried to calm myself and just be me again. That’s what I wanted… what everyone wanted. Then Alex arrived.
In the middle of the day, it was like the house itself exhaled. A whisper in the wind announcing her presence without sound. Not even Martin's sharp, experienced senses had detected her approach. One moment we were caught in the awkward rhythm of trying to adjust to the monstrous thing I carried within me; the next, she was simply there.
Alex moved through the house with a quiet, unnerving grace, her long legs carrying her as though she belonged to every corner of the space, as though she had always been part of our lives. She was striking, her presence magnetic and impossible to ignore. Her seductive yet powerful form swayed with each step. Waves of crimson hair cascaded down her back, the edges catching the faintest gleam of brighter tones, giving her an ethereal quality. Something pulsed within her… and energy or force of some kind I couldn’t feel from anyone else… not even Sam.
Her green eyes, cold and calculating, swept the room like a blade, lingering on each person for just long enough to unnerve. They were an irregular shade of green, vivid and piercing, as though they saw not just through you, but into the deepest recesses of your soul. Her expression was calm and perfectly composed, yet her mere presence seemed to assert dominance over the space. She carried an aura of control that was palpable, an unspoken declaration that she was the one who decided what happened next. And I hated how much that control seemed to settle on me.
As she approached, flashes of fragmented memories exploded in my mind like sparks off a dying fire. Her face… sharp cheekbones, a sculpted jaw… had been there in my cursed haze. She’d been part of my family’s desperate attempts to contain me, to keep me from losing myself completely. I remembered the sound of her voice, low and commanding, her words like iron chains that bound me when no one else could. I didn’t understand it then, and I wasn’t sure I understood absolutely everything now, but there was no denying that she’d played the sole, vital role in my survival.
“Autumn,” she said, her voice smooth and controlled, but there was something else beneath it… something unyielding, like the weight of a storm held at bay.
I swallowed hard, feeling an inexplicable pull toward her and an equal urge to retreat. “Alex,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. It was weird… talking to her when we really had no history with one another… not directly. But now… something undeniable dwelled between us.
She stopped in front of me, her gaze locking onto mine. “You’ve changed,” she observed, the faintest tilt of her head suggesting she was evaluating every part of me with her vast senses.
“Yeah,” I replied, forcing myself to meet her eyes.
Her lips shifted into a small, fake smile, “You’re still you, though,” she said, and something about the way she said it made my chest tighten. It wasn’t a reassurance; it was a challenge. Like she doubted what everyone else hoped… that I’d still be me.
The room felt impossibly quiet, as though everyone else had faded into the background. Alex had that effect… it wasn’t that she demanded attention, but that the world seemed to rearrange itself around her presence. She didn’t need to command the space; the space simply obeyed.
“I remember you,” I said, the fragments of memory coalescing into something sharper, more coherent. “You were there. When they… when I couldn’t be controlled.”
“I was,” she confirmed, her tone steady, almost clinical. “And you’re still here because of it.”
Her words weren’t cruel, but they weren’t comforting either. They were a simple statement of fact, delivered without emotion like she was recounting a story that had happened to someone else.
“I…” I started, but she raised a hand, silencing me with a single gesture.
“There’ll be time for words later,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Right now, I need to see what you’ve become.”
Her words sent a shiver down my spine, the weight of her authority pressing against me like a physical force. I glanced at Martin, who watched her with wavering respect, and then at my parents, whose expressions were unreadable. Martin didn’t look like he knew what she was doing… or approved.
For a moment, I considered resisting, pushing back against her suffocating control. But something inside me… something primal and newly awakened knew better. Alex wasn’t someone you fought against. She was someone you survived… for me at least.
“You seem to be adjusting well…” was all she said as her eyes flared a deep bloody red and she analyzed me. Her eyes ripped apart the deepest layers of my flesh, inspecting me in a way that felt intrusive. She was looking as far into me as possible.
I couldn’t place the feeling. It wasn’t fear, exactly, but something primal and unavoidable. When Alex looked at me, her gaze like a vice, I felt a strange pull deep inside. A part of me whispered to bow, to lower my head at her gaze, to surrender without hesitation. She didn’t need to speak it aloud; the difference in power between us was unspoken yet outright indisputable.
Her presence radiated something… something different from what was inside me, but so similar it set my teeth on edge. I could sense it, as if whatever monstrosity I had become recognized something familiar, yet greater in her.
“Come with me,” she said, her tone sharp and commanding. “We have a lot to do.”
The words weren’t a suggestion. They were a decree.
I didn’t look back at my family. I didn’t hesitate. My feet moved before I fully registered her command, and I followed her out of the house into the glaring sunlight. It felt strange, wrong even, to leave them without a goodbye, without an explanation, but Alex’s pull was stronger than any hesitation I had.
Behind us, I heard Martin’s faint step at the threshold. He stopped short, his hesitation palpable. I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of his short, dark hair frozen in the doorway. The sunlight stretched out before him like an impenetrable barrier, an invisible wall he couldn’t cross. His frustration was clear, but he couldn’t follow. Alex didn’t even glance back.
The house vanished behind us as we entered the woods, her long stride forcing me to keep pace. The trees closed around us, the shade filtering the sunlight into patches across the uneven ground. My senses felt heightened, as though the wilderness pulsed with life; birds chirping, insects buzzing, leaves crunching beneath our steps. Yet none of it broke the silence between us. She just kept moving… and I followed blindly.
A nagging thought pressed at the back of my mind: What if she asked me to do something I didn’t want to do? Worse, what if she told me to? The pull I felt, this strange connection, was terrifying. It wasn’t just a feeling… it was something deeper, something cellular. Like I was an extension of her will, a tool waiting to be wielded. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to disobey her.
Eventually, we came to a clearing far from civilization, outside of the city. The sunlight filtered through the canopy above, speckling the ground with soft golden light. It was quiet here, untouched by the chaos of St. Louis. Alex stopped and turned to face me, her sharp eyes cutting into me like knives. Her face was different than when she stood in my house, around my family. Here… she wasn't playing games… she wasn't putting on an amiable exterior. She was all business.
“For you to walk freely in this world, I need to know what you’re capable of,” she said, her voice cold, precise. “I need to know how dangerous you are, Autumn. To everyone. Not just when you’re in control… but when you're pushed to the edge.”
I opened my mouth to protest, “I would never hurt my fam…” but she cut me off with a single look.
“I’m not talking about your family,” she continued, her tone surging. “I’m talking about anyone. Strangers. Innocents. People who don’t deserve to be ripped from their lives and torn apart like prey. Whatever it is inside you… it doesn’t care. All it wants is to feed, to consume. It doesn’t discriminate, and that makes you a threat.”
Her words sank into me like stones.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” I managed, my voice trembling. “Not my family. Not anyone.”
She tilted her head, scrutinizing me. “You believe that now. But what about when the hunger takes over? When you’re starving and the only thing standing between you and survival is a human being who doesn’t deserve to die? Can you control it?”
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure I could.
“The choice you make will define what you become,” Alex said, her voice softening slightly but losing none of its weight. “I know because I made mine. I was reborn a normal vampire, bound to the same hunger they all feel. But I turned my hate… my rage, into a weapon. I hunted other vampires, my own kind… slaughtered them like the trash they were. My anger shaped me into something different, something stronger. I became an anthropophagus vampire, a predator of predators. And it was not easy.” Her eyes bored into mine, piercing and unrelenting. “You’re something else entirely, Autumn,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like you. You walk in sunlight, yet you carry something inside you with a hunger that rivals mine… but you don’t have the Primeval power that grants it. If you can’t control it… if you can’t direct that hunger at the monsters who deserve it… I will kill you myself.”
The finality in her voice chilled me. There was no doubt in her words, no hesitation. She meant it.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “What do I have to do?” I asked.
Her lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. Alex didn’t give any warning. One second, she stood in front of me with that cold, calculating stare, and the next, she was on me. Her hand clamped around my throat like an iron vice, and before I could even process the motion, she slammed me into the ground with a force that cracked the earth beneath me. Pain exploded through my body as her claws tore into my stomach, ripping through flesh like paper.
Blood spilled from the gashes in hot, sticky waves, soaking the dirt beneath me. I barely had time to gasp before she hurled me through the air like I was nothing more than a discarded toy. The world spun violently, and I smashed into the trunk of a tree. The sound of impact rang in my ears; a sickening crack as my body collided with the unyielding density of a certain tree.
I dropped to the ground in a crumpled heap, gasping for air, my hands clutching at the torn skin of my abdomen. Blood seeped through my fingers, warm and relentless. Every breath sent sharp, stabbing pains through my ribs. I forced myself to my knees, but my legs trembled beneath me.
The change began almost immediately. My vision blurred, the edges of the world tinged with a pulsing, crimson haze. My muscles coiled and stiffened, a sensation like steel cords tightening beneath my skin. My gums throbbed with a dull ache, a maddening, itching pain that made me want to sink my teeth into something solid, to grind until the pressure broke. My fingernails thickened, sharpening into claw-like points as a low vibration built at the base of my skull, spreading through my head like a wave of electricity.
Then she came at me again. A blur of motion, too fast for me to track, and her fist connected with my face like a sledgehammer. The force sent me flying again, the air ripped from my lungs as my body spun through the air. I slammed into another tree, but this time, something deep within me reacted. My body twisted mid-air, and I managed to launch myself upward, gripping the branches as I scrambled into the canopy, desperate to escape her relentless assault.
For a brief moment, I hid among the greenery, my breath ragged and shallow. My body trembled, torn between the overwhelming pain and the strange, primal surge of power coursing through me.
Her voice cut through the air, low and twisted, dripping with dark amusement. “Now that’s interesting. How are you doing that?”
I clenched my teeth, refusing to respond. I wasn’t about to fall for whatever game she was playing. I stayed silent, praying she couldn’t see me, that the distance would give me an advantage.
But then, her voice came again, chilling and taunting. “You can’t get away that easy.”
Before I could move, her hand wrapped around my throat, yanking me from the tree. She moved faster than I could comprehend, faster than I thought was possible. One second I was hidden, and the next, I was dangling in the air, her grip crushing my windpipe.
I thrashed, trying to escape, my newfound power humming beneath my skin as I tried to lift myself away. But she was too strong, too anchored. Alex’s other hand gripped the trunk of the tree like a vise, keeping me pinned despite my struggles.
Through gritted teeth, I managed to choke out, “Why are you doing this?”
Her smile faded, replaced by something cold and deadly. “I’m going to push you to the edge of your power,” she said, her voice like tempered steel. “I want to see what you do when you’re starving: when survival is your only instinct. Who will you choose to feed that hunger?”
Her words hit me harder than any blow. I understood, not just through her voice but through the strange, suffocating connection between us. She wasn’t just testing me. She was deciding if I was worth keeping alive. If her creation… me, could be trusted to uphold whatever brutal law she believed in.
The weight of her expectations crushed me almost as much as her grip. Alex wasn’t just forcing me to survive. She was forcing me to become something else, and the choice of what I became wasn’t mine to make. Not entirely. I was either become what she wanted or die by her hand. I felt helpless against her strength. I just had to hang on to myself… and not forget who I was again.