Rena’s POV

The morning sun streams through the curtains, nudging my eyes open. The scent of bacon and pancakes fills the air, stirring my hunger.

As awareness dawns, I gaze at the far couch, where a man with dark hair sleeps soundly. The memories of the previous night rush in, sharp and detail, as I observe him. A faint scar brands his left cheek, and his sleeves are rolled up carelessly, exposing the muscular forearms and defined biceps underneath. I rub my eyes to assure myself that this is no figment of my imagination, that he is indeed real.

He stirs, adjusting his position on the couch with a soft groan. My breath catches as his eyes flutter open and settle on me, taking a moment to focus. A relaxed smile spreads across his lips as recognition dawns.

“Good morning,” his voice still husky with sleep.

“Ah... morning,” I nervously meet his intense stare.

As I shift to sit upright on the couch, my eyes drift towards the kitchen. There, a dark brunette woman busy herself with breakfast preparations. I recognize her instantly, a face unaltered by time.

“Dahlia, what happened?”

She pauses and turns to face me, remaining silent as she leans against the counter. A subtle tension hung in the air as she considers whether to reveal the events that have unfold.

A voice emerges from the couch, laced with a mocking tone. “What a blood lustful kitten we have here.”

As I turn, I catch the man absorbing my presence with fervor; each inch of me seems to draw him in deeper. A wave of self-conscious heat rushes to my cheeks under the weight of his piercing gaze.

A cough breaks free from my throat. “Excuse me, I stick to animals, unlike you.”

With a sigh, Dahlia makes her way over to join us.

“Rena, your survival last night depended on a crucial decision: to feed on humans’ blood. While I was the one who suggested it, we must face the truth: quenching our thirst with animals’ blood is merely a temporary measure; it never truly satiates us.”

As I draw my knees tight against my chest, tears well up in my eyes. “Are you telling me I’ve consumed humans’ blood? You, of all people, know I’m trying to live as humanly as possible.”

“You? Human? Suck it up, kitten, you can’t run from your nature. Why not just embrace it?” His words pull me back to an uncomfortable reality. I’d almost forgotten he was eavesdropping.

His judgment sends a surge of fury through me. “I can’t just accept it like you do—I never wanted this.”

Dahlia attempts to ease the tension. “Rena, you met Carter the other night, right? He helped bring you here, so I’ve let him stay.”

“Sure, I remember him. But why is he still here?” A vein of irritation threading through my words.

“Calm down, kitten.” A smug grin playing on his lips. “This is part of our world. It’ll be second nature before you know it.”

“Relax? How can I possibly relax, Carter? The mere thought of turning into a dhampir—it terrifies me. It’s not some trivial thing you can just shrug off!”

As if trying to diffuse the volatility between us, Dahlia gestures broadly toward the dining area, her voice the epitome of placating warmth.

“Let’s put this on hold for breakfast, shall we? Come, sit. Rena, try to unwind a bit, and Carter... behave.”

With a casual flick of her wrist, Dahlia switches on the TV, banishing some of the tension that clung to the air like static. She disappears into the kitchen, her movements efficient and familiar, signaling the comforting routine of setting the table for three.

I resist looking at the man on the couch by focusing on the TV. But it became an exercise in futility. Carter, who was the embodiment of a sinister allure — with his infuriatingly hot, well-toned physique and that chillingly stony heart—still seized my attention, a dangerous yet compelling.

Despite my urge to flee my all-consuming reality, I couldn’t rein in my thoughts.

Why do I want more? Should I succumb to the craving to feed on one?

I yearned for the warmth of their sweet blood pulsing beneath the surface.

No, I must resist - or should I?

Inside me, a war raged.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Carter flat on his back, gaze fixed on the ceiling, lost in thought. I can’t help but wonder what’s running through his mind.

TV buzzes, filling the quiet room with static against silence. But the sudden, jarring chime of “Breaking News” from News Station X clawed its way into focus.

On-screen, an anchor woman wore an expression of grave concern, her voice sharpening the tense air. “We’re following late-breaking developments from Black Rosé, where a chilling message has prompted an urgent investigation.”

Her co-anchor, a stern-faced man with a voice that prompts attention, leaned forward, his words casting a shadow over the unfolding story. “The context grows more alarming as the name involved surfaces in previous investigations. Viewer discretion is urged; we’re about to expose the unsettling evidence that greeted officers at the scene.”

The camera cut to a series of photos, each capturing a fragment of horror. The walls of Black Rosé wept blood, and among the violent streaks, a taunting phrase emerged in haunting scrawl: “Find me, Rena.”

The anchor woman returned, her voice threading through the gore gallery, pleading for vigilance. “These photographs, shared hoping to ignite fresh leads, bear witness to the terror. If you know something, please, come forward...”

I spring from the couch, a gasp escaping me at the sight of the crime scene photos. Turning to Dahlia and Carter, I find their faces etched with similar disbelief.

Dahlia halts and whispers, “Wait, what did they say? Who’s looking for you?”

“I—I really don’t know.” A shiver running down my spine. I glanced at Dahlia, her face half-shrouded by shadow, hoping she’d understand the gravity of my next request.

“I’m sorry to ask, but... Dahlia, do you possibly have a cigarette?” My voice cracked, betraying a vulnerability I didn’t want to show. The weight of our situation sat heavy on my chest, and for a moment, I hoped that the nicotine would bring a clarity that my panicked mind was begging for.

Dahlia reaches into her purse resting on the counter and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, along with a crimson lighter. She strides over and extends them towards me.

“Whoever is after you, know that you’re not alone. We’ll figure it out, I promise.” Gently, she takes my hands in a comforting embrace.

“Thank you. I don’t know what’s happening, but being alone in this could be worse. Where can I go to smoke?”

She releases my hand and gestures toward a private office located around the corner next to the stairs.

Carter catches me off guard, materializing before me as I make my way to the office.

“Do you mind if I join you?” His rough voice, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Okay,” my voice barely rises above a whisper as we step into the luminous office, gently closing the door behind us.

I pull out a pair of cigarettes from the crumpled box, slotting one between my lips and offering the other to Carter. With the flicker of a lighter, I kindle life into mine, drawing in deeply to revel in the rich taste and the satisfying rush of nicotine.

Carter accepts the cigarette, tucks it between his lips, and I flick my lighter to life, igniting the tip. We stand shoulder to shoulder, wrapped in silence, each puff deepening our immersion in the shared stillness.

I draw in a deep drag. A sense of calm washes over me. Realizing this is reality, not a fleeting dream, brings deep concern.

Carter stands before me, silent, his intense gaze fixed unwaveringly in my direction.

Why was he following me? Was it for a cigarette? Surely not.

His message was obvious. I understand. As a Dhampir with little knowledge of my kind, I yearn for a normal human life.

But is that so strange?

I feel torn between two worlds where I don’t truly fit in. Vampires revel in their race’s superiority and reject humanity.

Why do I feel envious? Am I truly happy being human? Is there something wrong with me?

We pace around the room, finishing our cigarettes and flicking the butts into an ashtray on a black desk adorned with golden-framed photos of Dahlia’s family.

We stand in silence, gazing at each photo. The ache in my chest sharpens as I recognize the absence of any family photos of my own.

But what use are these when I have memories?

Yet, the thought of holding physical pictures of my mom, Rachel, and our family together tugs at my heart.

A suffocating silence hangs between us, choking me until my tongue strains against its mute prison. Drawing in a deep breath, I surrender to the pressure, and my words cascade out, unbidden and unchecked.

“Listen, we’re just strangers whose paths have randomly crossed. Why are you still here?”

Without missing a beat, the corners of his mouth tipped upward, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes.

“Aim straight for the throat, don’t you? Why don’t we give it a shot, get to know one another?” His tone was light, the sound of a held-back chuckle vibrating in his throat.

A frustrated huff escaped me, my arms tightening across my chest like a makeshift shield. “I don’t need to know you to see you’re a monster. Heck, you might as well wear a sign that screams ‘vampire’--no introduction needed.”

His laugh, undeterred and brimming with a barely contained humor, rang out, disarming in its nonchalance. “Kitten, not every vampire is a fiend in disguise. And since we’re on the topic, maybe worry less about identifying them, and more about acknowledging the one staring back at you in the mirror.”

Despite my every attempt to conjure a counterargument, I find myself in a silent retreat, his words irrefutable. A wave of sadness washes over me; he was right—undeniably, painfully right.

Now, I wonder if silence is the most potent response of all. Until Carter’s voice, barely above a breathy murmur, pierced the stillness.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t--” He paused, the trembling breath he took was heavy with remorse. “shouldn’t have said those things. It wasn’t--”

“No, you’re right,” my voice lacing with Carter’s soft whispers. “It was wrong of me to judge, to pretend I’m above it all, when I...” My words faltered, the truth of my existence forcing its way up my throat. “I am a dhampir.”

Carter looked up, his eyes searching mine, uncertain yet desperate for understanding. “Rena... have you heard of the twins’ legend?”

His intense gaze fueling my curiosity. “No, I haven’t. What legend?”

“So get this, a Moroi and human had twins—special rare dhampir sisters. Supposedly, Vera’s blood creates, while Vena’s blood destroys. Here’s something interesting - these twins were born with white hair and gray eyes. According to the legend, if you see them, your fate gets tied to theirs and you might just change the world.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t get it! You really don’t remember attacking me?” His violence, menacing tone quickens my heartbeat. He stares, incredulous, and presses, “I don’t understand.”

“Are you kidding? Why would I attack you? We’ve just met, so I don’t buy into that legend nonsense.” I walk over to the large couch by the window and sit down.

He takes a seat at the other end, studying me. “You might not have experience, but you remind me of someone. Do you possibly have a twin?”

My breath catches. The mention of her tightens something painful around my heart. I curl my arms protectively around myself.

“Yes, but she vanished. Snatched by some shadow I can’t name. I don’t even know if she’s still out there. If she’s still... you know.” I trail off, unable to articulate the fear of her being dead.

“Any idea who could have taken her?” he probes, his eyes softening around the edges with a flicker of empathy.

“It’s been years and... and nothing.” My words falter, clarity dawning with each sentence. “Years of looking even so. She’s just... gone.”

“The woman I met had your eyes, your smile... it seemed too real to be just my imagination. But you’re not her, are you?”

His words shock me, my mouth falling open.

“I’m sorry, I guess you’re not... I didn’t mean to interrogate you.”

I shake my head, “It’s alright. It’s just... unexpected.”

He nods, but the unease remains, an unresolved tension between us.

Is Rachel still out there?

Could this stranger have a clue, or is he just playing with my emotions?

We hold each other’s gaze in a profound silence, searching for a hint of hope or recognition amid doubt.