A sharp intake of breath.
Seraphina's eyes snapped open, her heart racing before her brain could catch up. The room was dimly lit—sterile white walls, soft beeping monitors, faint hum of enchantments layered through the air. But it wasn't the unfamiliar setting that made her jolt upright.
It was the scent.
Fangs. Blood. Cold skin masked in expensive cologne. The unmistakable, repulsive aroma of vampire kind.
She gagged, clutching her stomach. Panic coiled instantly, raw and furious, as she tore the IV from her arm and stumbled out of the hospital cot. Her bare feet touched the cold floor, and her vision blurred—not from weakness, but from fury.
Red.
Everything went red.
The scent was everywhere. She was surrounded.
They took me. They're still here.
Seraphina backed into the corner of the room, trembling. Her pulse pounded so violently that her skin tingled, cracking with heat beneath the surface.
Her body remembered what her mind could not.
