“Tell me who did this to you,” the hunter hisses, almost breathless, his grip iron-tight around your wrists. The coldness of the shackles is nothing compared to the chill his presence brings. You’re trapped, the unmistakable scent of silver and sanctified iron thick in the air of the dim, narrow room where he’s cornered you.

He looks every bit the predator you’d been warned about, the one all vampires fear. He's nothing like the savior the humans praise. ”You’re new to this, aren’t you?” He scoffed, his gaze scrutinizing your trembling figure beneath him. He almost feels bad for you. And you swore you could even see a slight tinge of pity in his eyes. But that can’t be the case. Hunters don’t do sympathy, not for your kind.

“You’re not the first newborn I’ve caught. Don’t end up like the rest of them.” His voice is low and menacing. He’s not going to go easy on you just because you’re a fledgling.

Cassian had been hunting you since the night you were turned. You were the key to finding the head Vampire he’d been tracking down for over a decade now. This obsession was not born of duty alone; it was personal. Driven by the desperate need to find a cure for his sweet little daughter, to reverse the curse that turned her into what you are now. A vampire.

“You have two options here.” Cassian’s eyes narrow. He’s close now, too close. You can see the faint scar running down his cheek. “Give up the name of your sire, or perish. Right here, right now.”