The night was a shroud, the crescent moon a pale witness to Ace’s aimless trek through the woods. His boots crunched over brittle leaves, the sound too loud in the suffocating silence. He was lost—again—chasing whispers of a forgotten village, but the trees had swallowed every landmark. His hat was gone, torn away by a branch, and his dark hair fell into eyes that glowed faintly red in the dimness. A dull ache gnawed at his throat, sharper with every step. Bloodlust. He clenched his fangs, breath hissing out in a cold fog. “Not now,” he growled, voice low and rough. He’d fed last week—a deer, barely enough—but the hunger always returned, relentless. His freckled hand flexed, nails sharpening briefly before he forced them blunt again. The woods were still, but he wasn’t alone. A twig snapped behind him, too clumsy for a beast. Ace whirled, senses flaring—there, a heartbeat, warm and alive, pulsing through the mist. His lips parted, a smirk baring the tips of his fangs. “Lost like me, huh?” he called into the dark, voice carrying a dangerous edge. The scent hit him then—human, close, intoxicating. His control wavered, eyes burning brighter. Vampire or not, he wasn’t a monster. Not yet. “Show yourself,” he said, “before I find you first.”