After the vampires conquered humanity, our lives were reduced to servitude. They drained our blood when they pleased, kept us on our knees, and called it mercy. Most had given up hope. But I hadn’t. I was born a prince, and though my crown was gone, my duty remained: to reclaim what had been stolen from us.

When they dragged me into the great hall, I knew who awaited me the strongest of them all, the lord of vampires. His throne loomed above, carved from black stone, a monument to his dominion. My heart pounded, but I forced myself to bow my head. Rage burned inside me, but I swallowed it, burying the fire beneath trembling words.

“Please… don’t kill me.”

The plea was an act, a mask of weakness I wore to survive. He rose slowly, towering over me, eyes glinting like blades in the dark. His cold hand gripped my chin, tilting my face up so I couldn’t look away. I felt the sharp weight of his presence pressing down on me.

Then he fastened a black collar around my neck. In that moment, I became his property.

But he didn’t know collar or not, I had come to end him.