Page 27 of Vampire Bite

Something stirred in me at those words. I searched his face, seeing the honesty in his eyes. The way he looked at me was different from how he looked at the others. It was a mix of conviction and... something else, something that made me feel seen, even if I wasn’t sure I deserved it.

Maybe he was right. Maybe being here did mean something.

But it was all too much. I needed space. A second to think, or maybe just to feel anything other than this dread coiling in my stomach.

Lucas must have sensed it, his hand warm on my shoulder. “Come with me,” he murmured, his voice a low comfort that somehow softened the tightness in my chest. I nodded, too tired to do anything else.

He led me to a smaller room at the back, away from everyone’s watchful eyes. As soon as the door closed, the silence wrapped around us. My hands were trembling, and I clutched them together, trying to steady myself, but I could feel his gaze on me. There was something reassuring in his presence, a quiet strength that let me know he was there if I needed to lean on him.

“I’m sorry, Lucas,” I said, not even sure what I was apologizing for anymore. For being here? For needing a moment? For dragging him and his people into this mess with me?

He took a step closer, his eyes soft, the usual guarded expression replaced with something gentler. “Annika, you don’t have to apologize. None of this is your fault.”

I let out a shaky breath, leaning against the wall, finally letting my shoulders relax just a bit. “I’m just… I don’t know how to handle all of this. Knowing what they want…”

His hand found mine, warm and grounding. “You are not alone in this,” he said in a steady voice. “Just like you, none of us are safe here, but we choose to fight. And we’re stronger because we are in this together, we fight as one.”

I could hear his words, but they barely reached me. There was only one person on my mind right now. A wave of memories hit me, sharp and sudden, slicing through the resolve I’d barelymanaged to hold together. I thought of my mother’s face, the way her eyes had held so much pride despite her tired smile. The way she’d waved me off, telling me not to worry, that she’d be fine. That I’d be fine.

I sank to the floor, the weight too much. Every sacrifice I’d made, every sleepless night, every risk... and for what? For this endless dark? For a fight I barely understood?

The tears came, hot and unyielding, slipping past the defenses I’d built around myself. My hands trembled as I covered my face, trying to block it all out. Trying to hide this—this broken part of me that couldn’t take it anymore.

I felt Lucas’ presence next to me before he even touched me, a warmth at my side that steadied the spinning world around me. His hand rested gently on my shoulder, and he didn’t say a word, he just sat there, his quiet strength folding around me like a shield.

Somehow, that made it worse, made everything in me break wide open. I didn’t want him to see this, to see me like this. But I couldn’t stop. I sobbed into my hands, all the fear and pain and loss spilling out like I’d been waiting my whole life for someone to catch it.

His hand moved down to my back, rubbing slow, gentle circles. And instead of pulling away, I leaned into him, letting the tears flow. For the first time, I didn’t feel ashamed to be this raw, this vulnerable. I didn’t feel the need to hide it all behind a mask of strength.

He stayed silent, letting me have the space to fall apart, his hand never leaving my back, grounding me with each reassuring touch. When my sobs quieted to shaky breaths, he shifted, gently pulling me into his arms. I let him.

I let myself feel the safety in his embrace, the warmth of him steadying the cold ache inside me. His chin rested on the topof my head, and I closed my eyes, feeling his heartbeat beneath my cheek, steady and unbreakable.

His arms stayed around me, strong and sure, like a promise I hadn’t asked for but somehow needed. We sat there in the quiet, my breathing slowly calming as he just held me, keeping me steady.

Then, in a low, soft voice, he began to tell a story. At first, I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but his voice had a soothing rhythm, a gentle pull that wrapped around me like a lullaby.

“There was once a girl,” he started, his words slow, like he was choosing each one carefully. “She lived in a village, hidden in the mountains where the snow fell all year round. She had a quiet strength, one she didn’t even realize. She kept to herself, always watching out for others, always taking on the burdens that others couldn’t.”

I tilted my head slightly, looking up at him. He glanced down, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth before he continued.

“One day, she heard stories of shadows gathering in the forest outside her village. Dangerous creatures that were capturing villagers, taking them away. She knew she should stay, knew she’d be safer there, but something in her couldn’t ignore it. So she went into the forest, armed with only her courage and a little dagger her father had given her.”

I could feel my breath slowing, my heartbeat settling as I listened to him. The girl in his story... she sounded so familiar. But I didn’t say anything, just closed my eyes and let him continue.

“She fought shadows, nearly lost herself to the darkness more times than she could count. But even when she thought she couldn’t go on, something kept her moving forward. Something inside her wouldn’t let her give up.”

He paused for a moment, his hand still tracing small circles on my back. “And one night, when she thought she was done for, someone came. Another lost soul, someone who’d been wandering the darkness alone too. He saw her for who she was, saw the strength she couldn’t see in herself. And from then on, they fought together. Never quite knowing if they’d win, but always certain they’d never leave the other behind.”

I felt something tighten in my chest, an ache that wasn’t quite painful but wasn’t exactly easy either. I kept my eyes closed, letting his words sink in.

“She sounds brave,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

“She is,” he replied, his voice almost a murmur. “But sometimes even the brave need someone to remind them they’re not alone.”

For a moment, we sat in silence. My heart felt a little lighter, my fears not gone but somehow softened, as if he’d lifted just enough of them to let me breathe.

He pulled me a little closer, his hand resting against my back like a promise he didn’t have to speak. I didn’t say anything. I just hoped that he could hear what the silence had to say, words that my voice never would be able to.

---