The world suddenly spun around Zoé as something dark flashed across her vision, causing her to lose her balance and stumble. Then, everything turned upside down.

The back of her head cracked against the hard asphalt, sending a wave of searing pain through her skull and down her neck, showering her vision with strobing white stars like television static. The cold, biting air filled her lungs as she tried to gasp, the taste of sweet iron heavy on her tongue. Everything went hazy; dazed and disoriented, she didn't register the Colt slipping from her clawing grasp and sliding through the snow and ending up being partially buried beside a construction truck's tire.

Her senses struggled to catch up, and each erratic thump of her dead heart pumping vitae sent yet another wave of agony through her.

Something roughly seized her ankles and unceremoniously lifted her into the air, swinging her around before throwing her face-first onto the ground with a sickening thud. She let out a guttural grunt as searing pain tore through her body, radiating outward from her chest where most of her ribs had once again shattered. Something must have also pierced her lungs, as she coughed out a mouthful of bright red blood. The metallic taste again filled her mouth as she choked on the fluid, reflexively struggling for a breath she didn't need.

The bindings around her ankles tightened as she was dragged through the snow, the rough surface of the road scraping against her clothing and holsters. Each bump and scrape sent jolts of agony through her, making any coherent thought an absolute struggle. It felt as if she'd just sustained the mother of all concussions, one that even her innate regeneration couldn't keep up with. Her vision blurred, and black spots danced before her eyes, threatening to pull her into unconsciousness.

Zoé had severely underestimated Shadow's recovery time. She realized that even Runner, who was probably in worse shape than Shadow, could already be up and moving.

She needed to focus. She needed to move. She needed to—'Move!' She gritted her teeth.

Zoé slammed a fist against the icy ground to shake off the lingering disorientation, the pain helping her concentrate on circulating her vitae. The cold bit into her skin, sharp and unforgiving, as she fought to regain control over her body.

Thump!

She violently coughed, expelling blood and ruined organ tissue from her mangled throat. The pain was excruciating, and she could feel herself weakening with each passing moment despite her bloodline fighting back. Every nerve ending in her upper body was ablaze with pain as she was dragged across the uneven, bumpy asphalt. Her ribs continued to regenerate, grinding, shifting, and contorting against one another and the rough surface, painfully repositioning themselves. The agony was so intense that Zoé could only hold her mouth open in a silent scream, unable to utter a sound that could express the level of pain she was enduring. Her vision swam with a kaleidoscope of dark spots and bright flashes, each one intensifying the throbbing in her head.

Her once pristine face was now caked with a mixture of snow and blood, and some of her auburn hair was matted with roadside grime. Her vision was blurred and tinted red, her mouth filled with the taste of her own blood, and her nose was overwhelmed by the pungent, metallic smell of coppery vitae. Zoé's thoughts were just as disoriented as her physical state, if not more so. The pain was so great that all she could do was remain on her stomach, face down in the snow, incoherently moaning as her body was turned into an impromptu snowplow. Each inhale was a struggle, her chest heaving as if it were bound by the strongest of iron bands.

Somewhere deep within her being, the primal instinct of the Beast stirred.

It was a distant rumble at first, like a storm gathering on the horizon. Then it quieted...

The thick haze clouding her thoughts finally dissipated as her skull mended itself, and her mental clarity returned. The excruciating agony at the base of her head and the pounding headache disappeared completely. Sometimes, it paid off to be a supernatural parasite. With each passing second, her senses sharpened, focusing like a predator's on its prey.

Zoé's hands clenched into fists, her fingers digging into the snow as her mind cleared, and every muscle in her body went taut as a steel cable as she regained control over the disorganized flow of vitae coursing through her veins. Her resolve hardened, and a feral determination lit her eyes.

The tendrils of shadow restraining her ankles strained for a brief moment before bursting apart in an inverse flash of darkness and a faint, otherworldly screech.

She felt the oppressive weight lift from her legs, her muscles throbbing in both protest and relief. Scrambling to her feet, she wiped away blood, snow, and grit from her face with a forearm, smudging what little remained of her lipstick and eyeliner in the process.

She was fucking pissed. Her eyes burned with fury as she scanned her surroundings, angrily reassessing.

She couldn't recall the last time she had been humiliated to such a degree. Even that night three years ago, when a small gang of ten Brujah and Lasombra chased her through the Virginian countryside, had gone better. Though she hadn't survived that night unscathed, she had managed to send three Brujah to their Final Deaths before receiving a single wound.

But this? This was an affront to her very existence, a challenge to her dominance that she could not, and would not, ignore.

Here she was: soiled designer clothes, ruined makeup, and broken bones. Every inch of her screamed in aches and pain, but her resolve only grew stronger, fueled by burning rage and humiliation. And both of the fuckers were still alive! Her vision firmly tunneled on the two figures, a fierce determination forming in the forefront of her thoughts to end them both.

Somewhere deep within Zoé's psyche, the Beast stirred as if sensing the danger and indignity she was suffering. It snarled in agreement, eager to unleash its fury upon those who dared to harm her.

That was all it took.

Thump!

A deep, baritone growl rumbled from deep within Zoé's chest, causing her peripheral vision to turn red and her fangs to elongate. The glowing, golden flecks of her emerald irises were now outlined with red as she flicked a predatory gaze back and forth between Shadow and Runner, daring them to make a move.

Shadow knelt on the ground, both knees pressed into the snowy roadside. He clutched his left shoulder, and the liquid darkness that had once wreathed his limbs now flickered in and out of existence. His breath came in ragged gasps.

With dark blood smearing her face, Zoé's lips contorted into a predatorial grin that seemed almost devilish. She could feel the power surging through her veins, amplifying her innate strengths and ferocity.

She was going to rip Shadow's throat out; She was going to taste his blood; He was weak! So, fucking, weak!

The thought of his vitae sliding down her throat only intensified her hunger, driving her forward her dark urges.

Although she had been caught off guard a few times, Zoé realized that Shadow was a talented yet weak-willed Oblivion user who relied on others to handle most of the fighting while he focused on large-scale environmental summoning. But now, he was in no condition to summon anything from the depths of Oblivion, and judging by his appearance, he already had one foot in the grave.

Her instincts screamed at her to finish him quickly, to end this pathetic excuse for a fight.

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A smaller voice in the back of her head, however, acknowledged that while her sharpshooting skills played a significant role, she'd also had tremendous luck on her side. And that her victory here tonight would be as hollow as it was meaningless in the grand scheme of things. If Emissary Whitaker had arrived at the exchange with the order he'd received over the phone, then Shadow would've had the chance to perform a ceremony, and the situation would have been much more difficult to handle. If not impossible.

The mere thought of facing such overwhelming power sent a shiver down her spine, momentarily cutting through her rage.

Ceremonies were incredibly powerful but also overtly dangerous and highly taxing to the user. Oblivion practitioners could draw upon the unholy darkness from the Abyss to perform a wide variety of tasks, such as raising corpses, summoning spirits, or spreading suffocating darkness to mute sounds or dull senses. These rituals demanded a sacrifice, one that could easily consume the practitioner if they weren't cautious. But the utility of manipulating raw entropy was incalculable, and every time a practitioner reached into the Abyss with their souls, they risked their willpower, sanity, purpose, and desires against something far fouler and twice as hungry as death itself.

As such, while Oblivion users were extremely dangerous opponents against any Clan in a direct confrontation, they were even more so absolutely lethal assassins. Had Shadow known there would be a fight to the death, he would have scoured the city to locate the nearest local Shroud, a point of convergence for ghosts to easily traverse between worlds, and set up the exchange there instead. Once an experienced practitioner found a Shroud, summoning or binding a vengeful wraith from beyond the veil to their will would have required considerably less vitae, time, and concentration—all crucial for a Kindred to survive in their world.

Shadow’s failure to do so revealed either his own, or the Emissary's, arrogance, and underestimation of her capabilities.

All these factors contributed to her having the upper hand, and it also seemed that breaking Shadow's grip on the Oblivion energies that had bound her legs had severely drained him. So even if there was a passive ceremony surrounding them that amplified any ambient necromantic energies, Zoé doubted he could safely manipulate the Abyss or the Underworld in his current condition. Unless, of course, he was eager to unleash a new strain of bubonic plague or invite possession by a Greater Wraith.

Regardless, she wasn't going to give Shadow the chance to think. Her instincts screamed at her to act now, to strike while he was vulnerable!

Thump!

Zoé disappeared in a flurry of powdery snow, her blurred figure heading directly for Shadow. Her movements were indistinct and difficult to track, her final speed being something she'd honed over centuries.

But, as Zoé hurtled toward Shadow, Runner's figure too blurred as he attempted to intercept her. However, her sudden change of direction to attack Shadow caused her to slip past Runner, leaving him behind her with his arm fully extended as he tried to grab the back of her ponytail. She felt the rush of air as his hand missed her by mere inches, and her face lit up with a Cheshire cat grin as the euphoria of outwitting her prey coursed through her veins like a drug. Her heart rhythmically pounded now as she tirelessly exerted herself and her supply of Vitae as the thrill of the hunt sharpened her senses.

Somewhere deep within her being, the Beast stirred, as if something had grazed its restless consciousness. Its presence loomed larger, merging with her own instincts in an incestuous symbiotic embrace of survival and bloodlust.

Zoé raised her left arm, twisting her body slightly, and grabbed the still-holstered Glock 19 beneath her left arm with her other hand. Flicking off the thumb break with one smooth motion, she angled the barrel inward and immediately squeezed the trigger. The holster's frame was no longer covering the barrel.

The thunderous crack of a 9mm round echoed through the air, the sound briefly piercing through the raging snowstorm.

Zoé's ears caught the sound of a fleshy impact, followed by the sound of a body collapsing to the ground shortly after. If anyone had witnessed the events, they would have seen two indistinct human-like forms closely following each other. Then, suddenly, the trailing figure materialized into a person holding their throat with both hands, collapsing to the ground. Blood sprayed into the air, misting the white snow with crimson.

Zoé let go of the Glock's grip and closed in on Shadow, who was standing, but was hunching forward, favoring his still-injured shoulder.

Suddenly, Zoé's rational mind flared in warning, but it was too late—her primal side was already roused and demanding satisfaction. The intense fighting, blood loss, constant use of vitae, and hunger clawing at her throat had all awakened the deepest aspects of her beastly instincts. Her canines itched with a thirst for blood that couldn't be denied any longer. As she approached, Zoé's eyes fixated on Shadow's pale neck peeking out from his hoodie. The urge to sink her teeth into his flesh and taste his blood overwhelmed her senses. She could practically feel the warmth of it flowing down her parched and aching throat. The scent of his blood filled her nostrils, and the thirst grew stronger, almost unbearable. It was as if her primal instincts had taken over, leaving her with a burning desire to taste his blood and sate her hunger.

Zoé was just two meters away when she locked eyes with Shadow's icy blue gaze from within his hoodie. Snarling, she lunged forward, extending the razor-sharp claws sprouting from her right hand. Victory gleamed in her bloodshot eyes as she gleefully watched her fingers sink deeply into the meat of his pectoral and then... seamlessly pass through as Shadow's form dissolved in a scattering burst of darkness.

Zoé's instincts roared, and she completed her swing with a ferocious growl, spinning around with its momentum to swipe at the air behind her. But there was no one there. Instead, there was only Runner, shakily climbing to his feet, blood pouring from his wounds and staining the snow around him.

A flicker of movement!

Zoé tried to move away, but a heavy boot slammed into her upper right arm from an impossible angle. Her humerus shattered like glass. The force of the strike dislocated her shoulder, fractured her ribs, cracked her sternum, and sent her sprawling into the snow. She could feel the oily, Oblivion-stained vitae invading and corrupting her own blood. This was beyond pain—one her rational mind couldn't comprehend.

Somewhere, within the depths of her being, the Beast stirred and awakened, its eyes snapping open. It sensed a foreign presence invading its territory. Rising from its slumber, it let out a deafening roar filled with unbridled fury.

Zoé writhed and convulsed, letting out an ear-piercing shriek that lasted until her vocal cords gave out and her natural regeneration took over. But even then, all she could feel was the excruciating pain, the overwhelming fear, the insatiable hunger, and the tantalizing scent of blood. There was only pain.

Zoé's convulsions and screams subsided, leaving her shallowly panting and twitching on all fours. A thin strand of blood and saliva dangled from the corners of her mouth.

Shadow and Runner silently glanced at one another.

Runner rose to his feet and took a step forward, then hesitated and turned his gaze back to Shadow.

With a nod, Shadow carefully removed his hoodie with a hiss and threw it onto the snow, revealing a plain black T-shirt riddled with bullet holes and soaked with blood. His drawn and pale face was haggard, and he struggled to remain standing, wobbling on his feet after taking off the hoodie. Despite the pain, he carefully reached behind his right shoulder and unsheathed a steel stiletto dagger, which he then tossed to Runner before taking a step back.

Runner deftly caught the dagger by the hilt and approached Zoé. Standing over her, he tilted his head and examined her in silence. Suddenly, he flipped the dagger into a reverse grip with its point facing the ground and positioned it directly above Zoé's heart. With a swift motion, he plunged the dagger down.

The tip of the dagger scraped against the asphalt beneath the snow.

A crescent-shaped spray of black blood stained Runner's hands and the dagger's hilt.

Runner caught a glimpse of his bloodied hands and the length of the dagger before the world turned sideways. As he fell, he realized with horror that he was witnessing his own decapitation. The last thing he saw before darkness consumed him was the dagger clattering to the ground out of view.

Shadow recoiled in horror, falling onto his backside as he experienced an intense, primal fear coursing through his body for the first time in memory. He could only watch in abject terror as the once-beautiful Zoé stood silently over his brother's bubbling and melting corpse.

The terrifyingly long, sharp claws on her right hand dripped dark blood. The air was pierced by a terrifying scream that blended with the howling of the snowstorm.

Shadow desperately reached out to the Abyss, calling upon its power to envelop him in darkness. All he wanted was to escape now—the mission had been a total failure.

The Beast didn't care. The Beast could hear, feel, and smell vitae. It didn't need sight. It only needed direction.

And Shadow had just rung the dinner bell.

The Beast let out a deafening howl and charged toward the source of vitae with reckless abandon, paying no heed to the harm it was causing to its host's body.

Shadow understood at that moment that he was doomed. But with this realization came a sudden sense of liberation, of freedom, allowing him to do something unthinkable. He closed his eyes, fully immersing his consciousness in the Abyss and letting raw, uncontrolled entropy flood into his body through the connection.

What little was left of his soul shattered.

His body visibly decomposed into a withered, skeletal husk in the time it took for the Beast to arrive over the corpse's crumbling remains.

The Beast's howl was now tinged with a frantic rage as the storm hindered its excellent senses, preventing it from detecting any further food source. Wobbling in place, its body swayed on unsteady legs as it harshly sniffed the frigid air, searching for any trace of blood.

It needed blood! Where was it?! Where was IT?! WHERE WAS IT?!

And then, suddenly, as though it had been there all along.

A heartbeat.