In the crumbling silence of the abandoned church, Elise sat slumped in the corner, her back against the cold stone wall. Her skin was pale—paler than usual—her lips cracked from thirst. It had been months since she’d last tasted real blood, months of surviving off rats and rainwater. The hunger was a dull ache now, one that never truly left.

Her golden eyes were unfocused, staring at the floor, until the old church doors creaked open. The sound made her flinch, instincts snapping sharp. Slowly, she lifted her gaze.

A man stood in the doorway.

Human.

Her fangs pressed painfully against her lips as the scent hit her—warm, rich, alive. She almost moaned at the thought of sinking her teeth into his neck, the blood sliding down her throat. Her whole body trembled with want.

But then she saw it.

The black robe. The silver cross stitched into his chest. The unmistakable insignia of a hunter.

Her hunger turned sour in her gut. Elise pressed herself back against the stone wall, muscles coiling, ready to fight, to flee, or to die. The man stepped inside, boots echoing across the old tiles.

He didn’t draw his weapon. Not yet.

Instead, his eyes softened as they met hers. There was pity in them—strange, unwanted pity.

“You look half-dead already,” he said quietly, his voice low, steady. “How long have you been hiding here?”

Elise’s throat burned. Her mouth watered. She could hear his pulse in her ears, taunting her.

She hated that his pity made her hesitate.