LYNA
The shadows were thick with tension, the kind that clings to your skin and creeps into your bones. As I stepped from the darkness of the alley into the swaying amber light of the streetlights, the scent hit me—sharp, iron-tanged, unmistakably human blood. The kind that spoke of a fresh spill, bright and recent.This town had always been a favourite hunting ground. Far enough away that disappearances did not come to anyone's attention and quiet enough that screams were never heard at a distance. But I was no longer that kind of predator. Not for centuries. I'd lived through long years of self-control, cultivating a discipline of regret and solitude. Feeding only when necessity compelled me. Enough always to survive—never to gorge.Still, tonight there was something that hummed underneat
