I should've walked away.
I told myself I would.
But I didn't.
Now, every breath tastes like his skin. Every shadow reminds me of the way he looked at me — not with fear, but recognition. As if he'd been waiting. As if some part of him knew me.
And that terrifies me.
Because I am not someone worth knowing.
I am something sharp beneath silk. A weapon dressed in a body that forgot how to be human.
I don't know how to want someone without also wanting to destroy them.
The rooftops blur beneath my feet. The city groans beneath the weight of rain-soaked clouds. I move fast, faster than the wind, trying to outrun the feeling lodged in my chest like a splinter.
But it follows me.
So does his scent.
Ren.
Even his name carves something open in me.
I shouldn't have saved him. I should've let the feral one drain him, leave him pale and lifeless beneath the alley light. That would've been cleaner. Easier.
But I didn't.
I couldn't.
His eyes—there was something in them I haven't seen in years. Not since I turned. Not since I died and became something else.
He looked at me like I wasn't a monster.
He saw me.
I end up back in the same ruined chapel I hide in when the hunger gets too strong. The stone floor is cold beneath my knees as I drop to the center, fingers trembling.
Blood. I need blood.
But I don't want to feed.
Not from anyone. Not now.
I want…
His voice. His hand on my wrist. The way his breath caught when I stepped close. The way he didn't flinch.
I press my fingers to my temple and grit my teeth.
This is how it starts.
The need.
The unraveling.
The obsession.
"You're slipping."
I look up sharply.
A woman stands in the doorway. Long coat, fangs peeking beneath crimson lips, hair like oil and shadow. She's not part of the hidden clan, not anymore. She's worse.
"Yuriko."
She smirks, stepping into the moonlight. "You smell like regret."
I ignore her.
She circles me. "You broke the rules. Protected prey. Looked at him like he mattered. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"Go away."
"You're forgetting who you are, Kazuki."
"I remember," I whisper. "That's the problem."
She leans in close. "You want the hunter's brother? He'll get you killed. Or worse—he'll make you hope again."
Then she vanishes, the way poison does—slow, burning, unforgettable.
I sit there for hours.
Thinking of Ren.
Of his voice. His warmth. His fearlessness.
I remember what he said before I disappeared:
"You don't have to go."
But I did.
Because if I'd stayed...
I don't know what I would've done.
Tasted him?
Held him?
Begged him not to let go?
Maybe all of it.
Now I'm the one haunted.
I thought I could be the ghost in his story.
But I think he's becoming the ghost in mine.