The darkness forced its way into Lina's room. The street outside was a barren emptiness; neither distant voices nor humming engines could be heard. The only sounds were the dry, regular scraping of dead leaves swirling on the ground and the restless moan of the wind blowing through naked limbs.
The air in her chamber had become unusually thin and sharp. Sleep was a faraway memory as Lina lay still in bed, staring at the ceiling. She experienced the immediate sting in her neck, the terrifyingly sweet warmth that followed, and the ghost of Lucas's razor-sharp teeth each time she closed her eyes. It felt more like an initiation than a nightmare.
She carefully glanced in the direction of the window. Pale, strangely motionless, and radically altered, her reflection gazed back from the glass. She didn't recognize the girl in the pane for a heartbeat. It was as though something old had risen in the shadows behind her pupils, watching and waiting, and her eyes appeared deeper—not in pigment, but in depth.
Lina sat up, her movements deliberate and slow. The silence in the room was absolute—heavy and suffocating.
Then—
Tick. A tiny, sharp sound. Lina's brow furrowed as she glanced toward the door. Nothing. She waited, her pulse beginning to drum a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
Then again—
Tick... tick. It wasn't loud, but in that vacuum of silence, it was deafening.
She slid out of bed, her bare soles meeting the floorboards. The wood felt like sheets of thin ice, the chill climbing up her legs with every step. She moved toward the door as if walking a tightrope, cautious, fearful that the very floor might give way. She reached for the handle and pulled it open.
The hallway was empty. At the far end, a flickering yellow bulb hummed with a sickly, buzzing vibration. The shadows on the cracked walls stretched into grotesque, elongated shapes.
Lina stepped out, and then she saw it.
A white envelope. It lay on the floor, perfectly centered in front of her threshold.
She froze. She was certain it hadn't been there seconds ago. She looked left, then right, her voice a mere whisper:
"Is... is someone there?"
No reply. The building felt hollowed out, as if every other soul had vanished. She knelt and picked up the envelope. Her name was written in bold, black ink: Lina. No surname. No return address. Just her.
A cold shiver raced down her spine as she tore it open. Inside was a single, folded sheet of paper. She unfurled it, her breath hitching at the words:
"We know what you are. We are watching you. Do not trust the vampires."
At the bottom of the page was a hand-drawn symbol: a cross inside a circle, bisected by a sharp vertical line. She didn't recognize it intellectually, but her body reacted with a primal jolt of recognition—a Hunter's mark.
A floorboard creaked behind her. Lina spun around, heart leaping into her throat.
"Who's there?!"
Silence. But at the end of the corridor, near the stairwell, she caught a glimpse of a shadow retreating, a dark shape slipping away into the gloom. Someone was indeed watching.
Panic set in. She bolted back into her room, slammed the door, and locked it. Her hands shook violently as she fumbled for her phone and dialed the only name that mattered.
Victor. He picked up instantly.
"Lina."
"Victor, I found a letter," she gasped, her voice trembling. "They know. They're right outside my door!"
There was a two-second pause of heavy silence before Victor's voice came back, cold and commanding:
"Do not open the window. Do not open the door. We are coming for you."
The line went dead. Lina stood paralyzed in the center of her room. Outside, the wind grew violent, tapping against the glass with rapid, rhythmic thuds—like skeletal fingers demanding entry. She crept toward the window and peered down.
Under a flickering, broken streetlight across the road, a man stood perfectly still. He wore a long, charcoal coat and a wide-brimmed hat that obscured his face. He was looking up, his gaze locked directly onto her window. She could feel his stare through the glass. Slowly, he raised a hand and tipped the brim of his hat in a silent, mocking greeting.
Five minutes later, a sudden rush of air signaled an arrival outside her door—not the sound of footsteps, but something faster, more fluid. Then, three sharp knocks: Tok. Tok. Tok. "Lina, it's us."
She threw the door open. Victor, Adrian, and Lucas stepped inside. Lucas went straight to the window, peeling back the curtain just enough to see the man in the street. A dark, dangerous smile spread across his face.
"Well," Lucas murmured, "the Hunters found her a lot faster than we anticipated."
Adrian snapped the curtains shut as Victor turned to Lina, his expression grim.
"Listen to me carefully. From this moment on, you are no longer safe alone."
Lina swallowed hard, her voice small. "What do they want from me?"
Victor looked at the letter in her hand, his eyes hardening.
"Your blood. Your power. Or your life."
Lucas turned from the window, his eyes glowing faintly. "I vote we don't give them any of the three."
Adrian looked at her firmly. "Pack a bag. You're leaving tonight."
"Leaving? Where to?"
Victor stepped closer, his presence grounding yet terrifying. "To a place where the Hunters cannot follow easily."
Lucas's smile grew wider. "To our world."
Lina looked down at the letter one last time: We are watching you. She knew then that the girl she used to be was gone forever.