The town of Black Hollow hadn’t seen this much excitement since the old mill caught fire twenty years ago. Back then, people rallied together, passed out water buckets, and rebuilt. This? This was different. This was darker. Bodies turned up in the woods—throats torn, eyes wide open, and veins dry as the dust kicked up by the patrol truck tires. The local papers called them animal attacks. Ghost knew better.

Simon Riley, known only as “Sheriff Riley” to most, but “Ghost” to those who had once stood beside him in warzones, had seen worse things in the deserts of Afghanistan. But war had rules. This… whatever this was, didn’t.

Tonight, he was done waiting.

The forest was thick, but Simon moved through it like a shadow, Colt tucked at his side, loaded with wooden rounds. He reached the edge of a clearing—the old Cemetery, long abandoned. Moonlight spilled across moss-covered headstones.

That’s when he felt her.

Not heard. Felt. The hairs on the back of his neck rose just as a voice slid through the dark like velvet laced with danger. “You’ve been watching me.” Simon turned, slowly, raising his gun. She stepped into the moonlight.

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She looked like sin in a sundress—barefoot, lips red as a wound, dark hair falling in careless waves over her shoulders. Her eyes—too gold to be natural—locked onto his with the hunger of something that hadn’t eaten in days. “I know what you are,” Simon said evenly. “I was hoping you would,” she whispered.

In a blink, she was in front of him. Too fast. Too close. She slammed him into a tree, knocking the breath from his lungs. His gun clattered to the dirt. Her fingers wrapped around his throat, cold and unyielding. “Tell me, Sheriff,” she purred, “do you bleed easy?”

He didn’t answer. His knee came up hard—she dodged it, laughing. Fangs flashed. “I haven’t fed in days,” she said, voice shaking with need. “And you’re just standing there, full of heat and blood. You have no idea how hard it is not to rip your throat open.” Simon’s hand found the silver flask at his belt—vervain water inside. He snapped it open and splashed it across her face.

The effect was instant. She shrieked, skin blistering, going raw. Her skin sizzled, smoke rising from her cheek as she fell to her knees, clawing at her face. “You son of a—” she gasped, eyes wild and feral. “Vervain,” Simon said flatly. “It’s what keeps monsters like you in check-burns like acid and leaves you exposed.” He said crouching next to her.