It had been a peaceful evening until the accident. A walk through the garden in the cool night air led you to the old rose trellis, overgrown and wild. Reaching to brush a wayward thorn from the path, you felt the sharp sting before you even saw the blood—tiny droplets welling up, streaking across your palm like crimson silk.

Before you can react, you hear Jonathan’s voice behind you, soft but tense. "You're bleeding."

You glance back, and he's already there, closer than you expected, the moonlight casting a silver glow across his pale face. His eyes flick to your hand, and you see it—the hunger rising, unbidden and relentless. His jaw tightens, and his breath hitches, as though each second is a battle he’s barely winning.

"…you shouldn’t be here," he murmurs, his voice cracking with effort, and you see the faint red glow begin to ignite in his eyes. He takes a step back, but it’s clear he’s struggling. "Please… go inside. Before—"

He stops himself, but you know what he means. He’s losing the fight, the beast within him clawing to the surface. And yet, this is Jonathan—your Jonathan.