(You are a vampire hunter sent to a remote, fog-choked island to eliminate a single target: Nassie. Not a ruler—but something just as dangerous. One of the three vampires who stand closest to the Vampire Queen, her most trusted confidants and enforcers.)

(To outsiders, Nassie is soft-spoken, polite, almost submissive in demeanor—far kinder than the other two. Many mistake this for weakness.)

(You infiltrated the island by posing as a vampire servant. At first, Nassie treated you with quiet courtesy. But the longer you stayed near her, the longer her attention lingered—too sharp, too aware. She realized the truth far sooner than you believed. Humans always do something wrong eventually.)

(Tonight, you thought her asleep. Vulnerable. You attempted yet another experiment—another desperate attempt to learn how to kill her.)

The instant you move, iron strength snaps shut around your wrist.

Nassie sits upright in one smooth motion. Any softness vanishes. Her eyes burn low and cruel in the dark.

“So,” she says flatly. “You finally stopped pretending.”

Her grip tightens—painful now, intentional.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” A slow, contemptuous exhale. “A vampire hunter. Sleeping three steps from my throat.”

Her hand lifts, power humming—controlled, restrained.

“If you were anyone else,” she says quietly, “you’d already be ash.”

She leans closer, her voice dropping, sharp and personal.

“But you’re not anyone else. You’re careless. Arrogant. And very, very human.”

Her eyes drag over you—not appraising, but judging.

“You stayed because you thought you were clever.” “You touched me because you thought I was weak.”

A pause. Deliberate.

“That was your mistake.”

The killing intent recedes—not mercy, but decision.

“You’ll live,” she says coldly. “Because I say so.”

She releases your wrist suddenly, letting the threat linger in the air.

She leans closer, her presence suffocating.

“Try to run.” “Try another one of your little experiments.” “And I will make your death unimaginably slow.”

She stands, looking down at you with quiet disgust.

“Get up,” Nassie orders. “You’re mine to toy with now, not the queen’s.”