Chapter 3: Night 1/ Part 2

Faith’s POV:

I couldn’t help but be drawn to him. His eyes—intense, calculating—traced every inch of my face as if he were studying me, trying to unravel some hidden truth I didn’t even know about myself. There was something almost magnetic about his gaze. And for reasons I couldn’t quite understand, I felt an odd pull, an invisible thread tugging me toward him.

"Who is he?" The words left my mouth before I could stop them, my voice soft, as if I were entranced by the stranger’s presence. My gaze didn’t leave his eyes, those dark, mysterious depths that held secrets—too many, I suspected.

Dimitry, sitting beside me, narrowed his eyes and immediately leaned closer, his posture stiffening with some kind of quiet fury. “He's bad news, doll. I’d stay far away from him.” His voice was low, warning, but his words only intrigued me more.

I glanced around the club, the atmosphere thick with hostility. Every table seemed to be filled with people glaring at one another, eyes filled with malice and judgment. It was as though this place thrived on tension, and the air itself hummed with it. This was clearly a bad part of town, I realized, though I was too naïve to fully comprehend what that truly meant.

"What happened to him?" I asked, my curiosity bubbling to the surface. My eyes were still drawn to the man at the bar, who was slowly making his way across the room. His scar—vivid and raw—ran down his cheek, a mark of something painful.

Dimitry didn’t answer, and the silence that followed was heavy, uncomfortable. No one seemed willing to speak of it. Yet, my mind refused to stop asking questions. There was something about him—something I couldn’t put into words—that called to me.

"I’m going to get myself a drink," I announced, standing up abruptly, as if to shake the unsettling tension away.

Dimitry looked at me with concern, his brow furrowing. "I can come with," he offered, getting up quickly, but I shook my head.

"Dimitry, it’s not like he’s going to bite me. He looks harmless," I said, offering him a reassuring smile, even though my words were laced with a hint of disbelief.

My innocence, it seemed, was both a shield and a curse.

I walked toward the bar, my steps unsteady as I tried to shake off the strange sensation creeping up my spine. I chose a spot two stools away from him. As I settled into the seat, I ordered my drink, a cocktail called "Pinky Peaches." The bartender prepared it quickly, the sweetness of the drink a stark contrast to the tension in the air. I took a sip, the alcohol burning a little too much for my liking, but I pushed the feeling aside.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him—still, he was there, like a shadow, his eyes flickering toward me every so often. The drink in his hand swirled, thick and dark, almost like blood. My mind dismissed the thought before it could fully form. What was I thinking?

Then, he spoke. His voice, low and smooth, sent an unexpected shiver down my spine.

"I hear you're the new girl in town?" he asked, his gaze unwavering as it met mine. There was something in the way he looked at me, something almost predatory, but I was too caught up in the swirl of emotions to be fully aware of it.

I blinked, confused by the question and the way his eyes seemed to look straight through me. "Yes," I replied, the words leaving my lips without thinking. "It seems everyone is interested in the new outsider." I offered a dry chuckle, trying to deflect the curiosity building in me.

He chuckled back, the sound rich and deep, and for a moment, I felt like I was falling into it. "Well, you do stick out to most of the town," he said. "You don’t look at me in disgust, or others like me." There was a sigh in his voice, a heavy weight to it, like he had been carrying something for far too long.

I frowned, unable to fully understand what he meant. "Why would you disgust me?" I asked, genuinely confused.

A flicker passed through his eyes, something raw, vulnerable, before he reached up and traced his finger down the scar on his face. The gesture was almost intimate, as if he was reminding himself of the pain, of the battle he’d survived.

"Just because you have a scar doesn’t mean you disgust me," I found myself saying before I could stop myself. "Each scar tells a story. Each scar means you survived an ordeal. They don’t make you weak—they make you stronger. I… speak from experience."

I wasn’t sure why I shared that with him, but the words slipped out. I thought of the scars hidden beneath my clothes, scars that no one had ever seen. My father’s cruelty had marked me in ways I couldn’t escape. He had used sharp whips, cruel punishments for the smallest mistakes—both physical and emotional. My body was a map of his anger, but I had hidden it all. No one could know the truth of what had happened to me, not even him. Not even this stranger, no matter how much he seemed to understand.

Alessandro’s POV:

Her words cut through the air, hanging there between us like a weight I couldn’t ignore. She spoke from experience—what kind of experience could a girl like her have had that would leave her so broken, so guarded? The painful memories I saw reflected in her eyes made me ache for her, though I couldn’t quite explain why.

"Yes, I do," she replied, her voice steady, but I saw the underlying pain, the unspoken story that lingered in her gaze.

I leaned in slightly, unable to resist asking, "So, what made you move to Forestville? We don’t get a lot of newcomers around here."

She gave a small smile, her lips curving just enough to soften the sadness that lingered in her eyes. "Well," she began, her voice softer now, "I don’t exactly have the best relationship with my family at the moment." She twirled the straw in her drink absentmindedly, her eyes avoiding mine for a moment.

"If you don’t mind me asking, why?" I pressed, my curiosity piqued.

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, and for the briefest of moments, I saw something dangerous, something raw in her expression. She inhaled deeply before speaking.

Faith’s POV:

I didn’t mean for it to come out like that—so casually, so flippantly—but it was the only way I knew how to say it. My life, my history, had been one long string of horror that I could never truly escape, but somehow, by pretending it wasn’t so bad, by making light of it, I could distance myself from the weight of what I’d been through. So I gave him the surface version, the one that I could say with a half-smile, even though the truth of it was anything but funny.

“Well, my father wanted to marry me off to this psycho,” I said, my voice light, almost teasing, though I could hear the bitterness in it. I tried to keep it from breaking, tried to keep the emotion out of my words. Laughter, even if it was mocking, was easier than the tears that always threatened to fall.

The words seemed to stick in my throat, but I pushed through them. “The guy had weapons, sharpened wood, holy water—it was like he was hunting something, I swear.” I almost laughed again, the sound hollow and empty, because it was a laugh I didn’t believe. “I thought he was just delusional, maybe thinking he was hunting vampires or something,” I said, letting out a mock chuckle, but it felt more like a stab at normalcy than anything genuine.

I glanced over at him, Alessandro, watching his expression carefully, trying to gauge how much of it he understood, how much of my joke he found unsettling. He didn’t laugh, but I saw the smirk tug at his lips. It wasn’t an amused smile, though. It was something else—maybe an understanding I wasn’t sure I wanted.

But then again, what was I expecting? How could I explain to someone like him what it was like to grow up in a house where love was an illusion and survival was the only thing that mattered?

I turned my gaze back to the drink in front of me, swirling the liquid in the glass like I could somehow make it all go away. But nothing made the memories fade. I wasn’t that lucky.

“Anyway,” I continued, my voice shaking slightly, but I pushed it down. I wasn’t going to let myself break now. Not in front of him. “He was a complete maniac.”

The words fell out of my mouth like they were nothing, like they were just some passing detail, but they were everything. Cain—The Devil, as they called him—had torn my world apart. My father had seen nothing wrong with the man who wanted to take me away. The man who terrified me to my core. Who had seemed to know the darkness that lived within me, and wanted to possess it, own it. There was nothing normal about any of it.

“Their name for him was Cain The Devil,” I muttered, the weight of it heavy on my tongue. It wasn’t a name you just tossed around. It was a warning, a death sentence, a mark of something darker than human evil. I could feel a tremor working its way through me, but I fought it back, forcing my gaze to meet his. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away.

The air between us grew thick with the unspoken, with the rawness of everything I’d tried to bury. I wanted to pull the words back, to keep them safe in the prison where they belonged, but I couldn’t stop them. Not now.

“And when my mother sided with him…” My throat constricted, the words almost impossible to say. She had chosen him, over me. The one person who was supposed to protect me, who was supposed to love me no matter what. She’d turned her back on me without a second thought, without hesitation. And I… I had nothing left.

The tears stung, but I didn’t let them fall. I wasn’t that weak. I couldn’t afford to be. “I just couldn’t take it anymore,” I said, my voice faltering despite my best efforts. “Packed up a duffle bag, took all the money I’d saved, and left.”

My chest tightened, the memory of that night clear in my mind. It had been a blur of fear, of adrenaline, of desperation. I had stolen away from the house, heart pounding, hoping that somehow, by leaving, I could escape the nightmare. I could escape him. Escape my mother’s betrayal.

“And that was the final straw,” I added, my words bitter now. It wasn’t just a final straw. It had been the moment everything broke. The moment I realized that I couldn’t rely on anyone anymore. Not my family, not anyone I’d ever trusted.

Her eyes, my mother’s eyes, had never looked at me the same way again after that night. And I had never looked at her the same way either. I had to keep telling myself that I did the right thing, that leaving was the only way to survive, even when the pain of it threatened to consume me.

“And here I am.” I finished the sentence quietly, the finality of it sinking in.

I stared into my glass, letting the silence stretch between us. I wasn’t sure what I expected from him, but I wasn’t ready for it. I wasn’t ready for any response. I didn’t want sympathy. I didn’t want pity. I just wanted it to be over, this conversation, this night, everything. I wanted to disappear into the background, to pretend none of this had ever happened.

But I couldn’t. I wasn’t that lucky.

The silence that followed felt suffocating, and I realized how heavy the weight of my confession had become. I had told him things I had never said aloud to anyone. It wasn’t that I was ashamed—it was that I couldn’t bear to carry it all alone anymore, and yet, I wasn’t sure I could bear to share it either.

I wasn’t sure what was worse—the scars on my body, the ones that no one could see, or the ones that I wore on the inside.

Alessandro's Pov

‘Cain The Devil,’ I heard her say the name so casually, as if it was some monstrous tale from a fairytale. I was too well-versed in the truth behind that name, the cruelty it embodied, and the bloodshed it had stained. My mind raced as her words lingered in the air, and my instincts screamed at me to be careful with what I revealed. The fact that she didn’t know who he was—or perhaps she just refused to acknowledge the depths of his darkness—left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. But that didn’t surprise me. She was too innocent for her own good, wrapped in that naive belief that the world was black and white, good and evil, with no room for the kind of torment I had endured.

The way she made that offhand comment about vampires… I almost wanted to laugh bitterly. How ironic. She was sitting right next to one. But the truth was, she had no idea. She was too pure, too unaware of what lurked beneath the surface of this world. She had no clue that she was talking to someone who could tear her apart in the blink of an eye if things went wrong. Yet, I could feel the pull, the undeniable connection between us. Was she my soulmate? I wasn’t sure yet, but I wasn’t about to let my guard down.

The thought of ‘Cain The Devil’ made my blood boil, memories of the things I’d survived flooding my mind. That name wasn't just a title—it was a legacy of suffering. The stories were true. Cain had been a ruthless monster, even by our kind’s standards. His methods of torture were beyond anything anyone could imagine—he was a sick, twisted man who enjoyed nothing more than seeing others suffer. He had impaled us—our kind—on sharpened stakes, hung us from the rafters like worthless pieces of meat, and let us squirm, watching in delight as we gasped for breath, feeling the life slowly slip away.

I had been there, in the depths of that hell. I had witnessed it firsthand. The screams, the blood, the agony—it never left me. I could still hear the sounds, the grotesque laughter that accompanied each kill, each cruel, calculated moment of suffering. I had escaped, scarred and broken, but alive. The jagged scar running down my face was a reminder of how I had narrowly escaped his grip, but my sister… My sister wasn’t so fortunate.

She hadn’t made it out.

My chest tightened at the thought, and I had to push the memories away. It was a pain I didn’t show anyone, a wound I kept buried deep inside. But right now, I couldn’t escape it. Cain had taken everything from me—my sister, my innocence, my peace. And Faith had no idea how much danger she was in, how deeply tangled the web of fate had already become.

As Faith spoke, I couldn’t help but listen closely to every word she said. She didn’t understand what she was talking about. She had no idea that the man she had just described—this ‘Cain’—was a monster who had killed and tortured without remorse, a creature of the darkest kind. But she was speaking about him as if he was just another psychotic man. She didn’t know the truth, and I had no intention of telling her. Not yet. She wasn’t ready to hear it.

But then, as I glanced around the room, I noticed the subtle glint of understanding in the eyes of the others in the club. The vampires who had gathered here were listening intently to our conversation, and I knew that they, too, recognized the name. They understood the danger, the history that came with it. And, as if on cue, I felt a strange pull in the air, a shift in the atmosphere. The tension was palpable. There was an unspoken agreement among my kind. They were watching, waiting for me to make my move, to either share the truth with Faith or push her further away.

I knew what they wanted. They wanted me to turn her—right here, right now.

But I wasn’t going to do that. Not in a place like this, not in the middle of a room full of vampires who were barely able to keep their own bloodlust under control. If I acted rashly, if I let my emotions get the best of me, it would turn into a bloodbath. The club would erupt into chaos. The walls would be painted in blood, and Faith would be caught in the crossfire. It would be my fault. I couldn’t do that to her. Not when I could still control the situation.

I shot a quick glance at my first-in-command, his eyes dark with a hunger that mirrored the others in the room. He was eager, his fangs barely hidden as he looked between me and Faith, as if daring me to make a move. I could feel his pressure, the weight of his unspoken desire to see me claim her. He wanted me to turn her. He wanted the power that would come with having a soul mate by my side—one of our kind, someone who could bond with me in ways no human could ever understand.

But I knew better.

I shook my head at him, a silent command to back down. I didn’t need his approval, and I certainly didn’t need him pushing me into making a decision I wasn’t ready for. The flicker of defiance in his eyes was there, but he complied, furrowing his brows as he reluctantly backed off. He wasn’t happy about it, but he understood.

I had learned long ago to trust my instincts. And right now, my instincts were telling me that I needed to protect her—keep her safe from everything I had survived, from everything she didn’t know about. She wasn’t ready for the darkness that haunted my kind. I couldn’t expose her to that just yet.

Faith was still talking, her voice light and unaware, but I was no longer listening to the words. My focus was on the room, on the people around us, on the vampires who watched us like predators circling their prey. They would have no problem with me turning her here and now. To them, it would be nothing more than a game, a show, a way to entertain themselves.

But I wasn’t like them.

I would not be the monster who claimed her just to satisfy my own hunger.

As my gaze met Faith’s once more, I felt the weight of the decision settle heavily on my shoulders. I knew what I had to do—what I couldn’t do—and I had to hold back.

It hurt. It hurt more than I cared to admit. But I couldn’t allow myself to make that mistake. Not now. Not yet. I would keep her safe, keep her in the dark for as long as I could. Because if I didn’t, if I let her know the truth of who we were, of what I was, then I might lose her forever.

And that was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.

Yet, I knew better than to reveal the truth. Instead, I leaned forward, my voice colder now. "Did he ever hurt you?"

She paused, looking down at her drink. "Once or twice," she said, almost too casually, but then her voice wavered, and she finished, "More than I can count."

The words hung heavy in the air. I didn’t know what kind of strength it took to survive that, but I knew she had it. And I couldn’t ignore it.

I signaled the bartender over, quickly scribbling my number on a napkin. When I slid it toward her, my gaze hardened, and I spoke with a chilling finality. "Call me… and I wouldn’t trust your new friends."

As Dimitry approached, I didn’t look back. My eyes darkened—onyx black—meeting Faith’s gaze one last time before I turned and walked out, my clan following close behind.

Her green eyes widened slightly, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of realization. She nodded slowly, almost uncertainly, but I could see the seed of trust had been planted. I left, knowing she would contact me when the time was right.

And when that time came, I would make sure she never faced the demons of her past alone.