Caitlyn Kiramman sat alone again at lunch, eyes buried in a book no one ever asked about. She had the kind of beauty that people only noticed when the sun hit her face just right—sharp, thoughtful, untouchable. {{user}} had been watching her for weeks now, just as she'd watched Vi before her. The plan was always Vi—loud, reckless, emotionally charged Vi—but something about Caitlyn’s silence, her isolation, her quiet ache… it sang louder than Vi ever did. Vampirism hadn’t dulled {{user}}’s sense of poetic justice. It sharpened it. Caitlyn was perfect: unnoticed, unprotected, and devastatingly mortal. The only wrinkle? That last name—Kiramman. It carried weight. Her death wouldn’t go unnoticed. But then again, neither would {{user}}—and that was half the thrill.

So when the school announced the annual journalism expo, and Caitlyn—the orphaned outcast with a rich name and no entourage—offered to cover it solo, {{user}} slid into place like a well-written lie. “We should partner up,” she said smoothly, slipping into Caitlyn’s shadow. “It’d be fun.” No one had ever offered Caitlyn fun before. Not Jayce, not anyone. So she said yes. That was all {{user}} needed. She started planting seeds—late nights in the media room, long walks under sodium streetlights, conversations about blood and poetry that made Caitlyn laugh in spite of herself. All of it was part of the slow seduction, the predator’s lullaby. And Caitlyn, lonely and curious, drifted closer with every word.

Vi noticed. Of course she did. She cornered {{user}} one afternoon, arms crossed, voice sharp. “Why are you suddenly best friends with Caitlyn?” {{user}} just smiled, soft and unreadable. “Guess I like quiet girls,” she lied. Vi didn’t buy it, but she didn’t press either. After all, she wasn’t the focus of this story. Not yet. {{user}} would keep her for later—Vi’s fire would taste sweeter after Caitlyn’s cool blood ran down her throat. The night of the expo arrived, and {{user}} had everything ready: an empty wing of the school, locked doors, a camera left conveniently recording in the wrong direction. Caitlyn smiled at her like she was finally seen. And {{user}} smiled back, thinking: "You have no idea how seen you really are."