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"Going?" Sofia's voice was a blend of sarcasm and venom, her crimson lips twisting into a smirk that could cut glass. She stood there, all sinewy grace and lethal edges, the kind of beauty that didn't just slice through your defenses—it laughed while doing it.
"Sorry," I grumbled, not sorry at all. "Was in a hurry to crash before the big show."
"Resting up for Nash's sake? How sweet." Her tone dripped with disdain, her pale eyes flickering over me like I was some abstract painting she couldn't quite figure out—the kind she'd never hang on her wall.
"Something like that," I shot back, bracing myself against her frosty aura. It was hard enough dealing with my own shit without having to navigate through hers.
"Must be novel for him," she continued, stepping closer, her voice a low purr. "A human. After me... Well, let's just say you're quite the downgrade, Celeste."
"Ouch," I deadpanned, forcing a chuckle, but the sting of her words wormed its way under my skin. "Guess I should be flattered to follow such an illustrious act?"
"Flattered?" The word came out as if she'd tasted something foul. "He'll tire of you. They always do," she said, her eyes smoldering with the kind of bitterness that could only come from being burnt and left in the ashes. "Once he's done playing hero, he'll toss you aside," she hissed, her eyes narrowing into slits. "Like a broken toy."
"Is that what happened to you?" I shot back, fire crackling in my belly. I could feel my face flush with anger, my hands itching to wipe that smug look off her face.
"Careful, human," Sofia sneered, stepping into my personal space. Her scent—like a mix of roses and something darker—invaded my senses. "You don't want to end up like me."
"Trust me, becoming a bitter ex is not on my to-do list." I tried to shove past her, but she was a damn immovable object, her presence commanding despite her slender frame.
Sofia laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "Oh, Celeste. You really think you mean something to him? That you're different?"
"Fuck off, Sofia." The words were out before I could stop them, a gut reaction to the poison she fed me.
But instead of retorting, she simply cocked her head, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "You'll see. And when you come crashing down from that little cloud he's put you on, remember I warned you."
That did it. The fight drained out of me, replaced by a hollow feeling in my chest. I didn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. I whirled around and marched out of Vanguard's headquarters, my heart pounding a relentless rhythm against my ribcage.
Prove her wrong. I pushed through the revolving doors and out into the biting Chicago wind. The city loomed around me, indifferent to the turmoil inside my head. Steel and glass reached for the heavens, as if to escape the filth below.
I wasn't just some plaything for Nash to discard when he got bored. I wasn’t. My steps quickened as I made my way down the street, away from the fortress of secrets and lies. I was going to show them—I was going to show all of them—that I wasn't someone to be underestimated.
"Vampires," I scoffed under my breath, rolling my eyes at the absurdity of my life. Who the hell falls for a vampire anyway? A vigilante one, no less. Apparently, this idiot, I thought, jabbing a thumb at myself.
But as the cafe came into sight, my resolve tightened. Screw Nash. Screw Sofia. I was here for the mission, for revenge. And I’d be damned if I let some undead diva shake my confidence.
I tucked my hair beneath a baseball hat and scanned the area. It was game time, and I was ready to play. I darted between the shadows, my heart a drumline in my ears. The cafe was just ahead, its warm glow a beacon in the encroaching dusk of Chicago's relentless skyline. The hat was pulled low over my eyes, casting my face in obscurity—a perfect cover for the shitstorm I was about to walk into. Sofia’s venomous words still echoed in my mind, but I shoved them down deep. I wasn’t going to let her or anyone else at Vanguard see me crack.
I forced a casual stride as I approached the cafe. It was one of those trendy spots with exposed brick walls and indie music playing just loud enough to drown out the city's hum. Perfect cover for a bunch of bloodsuckers and their twisted games.
Slipping through the door, I scanned the room with a painter's eye—every shadow, every patron etched into my memory like brushstrokes on canvas. My fingers itched for charcoal or paint to capture the scene, but that would have to wait. Art was my haven, not my battlefield.
"Can I get you anything?" The barista’s voice snapped me back to the moment. She was all smiles and piercings, oblivious to the dark undercurrents flowing just beneath the surface of her hipster haven.
"Uh, yeah, just a coffee. Black," I replied, keeping my tone nonchalant. I slapped some cash on the counter, not bothering with change. Every second counted, and my gut told me I needed to be ready.
Coffee in hand, I slunk into a corner booth, angling for an unobstructed view of the entrance. The baseball cap felt like both a shield and a target on my head—like I was daring the fates to take a swing at me. Bring it on, you undead bastards.
I sipped the scalding liquid, letting it sear away the lingering chill from Sofia's words.
"Come on," I muttered under my breath, tapping my fingers impatiently against the ceramic mug. "Show your faces before I lose my goddamn mind."
Every time the door swung open, my body tensed, preparing for... Hell, I didn't even know anymore. But whatever it was, I'd face it head-on. No vampire, no matter how ancient or powerful, was going to make Celeste Holloway run scared.
I clutched my coffee, the warmth barely registering against the cold determination that had settled in my bones. Every murmur, every laugh from the other patrons was white noise — I was tuned to a frequency of danger, every sense sharpened to a fine point.
"Fuck me," I muttered, scanning the faces again. Each one a potential threat, each one a possible victim. It was like staring into a twisted mirror, reflecting a world where I didn't belong. A world I refused to be cast out of, not without leaving my mark etched in their memories. Each minute dragged by. My leg bounced under the table, betraying the adrenaline coursing through me. I was a caged animal, itching for a fight, desperate to prove that the fire inside me burned brighter than any fear they could throw my way.
I took another swig of coffee, now lukewarm, and forced my body to relax into the booth. My eyes stayed glued to the door, vigilant, unblinking.
And then, as if the universe decided to fuck with me one more time, I froze. The door swung open, revealing a figure that made my blood run cold. Not because of the threat it posed, but because it was me — or someone wearing my face, my body, my defiant stance. A doppelgänger of flesh and bone, striding into the cafe with an air of purpose I knew all too well.
This had to be some sick joke, a mind game meant to throw me off balance. My double's eyes scanned the crowd, a haunting echo of myself, and I shrank back into the shadows. Because for the first time, the girl who faced monsters head-on felt a trickle of doubt, an inkling of fear that maybe, just maybe, I was up against something even I couldn't outmaneuver.
