Pain woke her before the thoughts did.
She didn't know where she was. She didn't know how much time had passed. She didn't know whether it was still night or if the sun had risen and died again without her ever seeing it.
But she knew the pain.
It pulsed through her back—deep and savage—as if someone had driven a knife between her shoulder blades and twisted it from time to time just for the pleasure of hearing her gasp. Her thigh burned. When she tried to move her right leg, a violent stab tore a silent groan from her throat. The wound there hadn't closed properly. She could feel the warm blood slowly slipping over her cold skin.
She made no sound, though the pain beating through her back and thigh could easily have torn a scream from her. She had already learned—though she could no longer remember exactly when or how—that in this place, sounds drew attention, and attention always brought pain.
She breathed slowly, as much as the metal collar tightened around her neck allowed. Its cold edge pressed into her tender skin, and every breath was short and incomplete, as if the air itself refused to enter her lungs and forced her to drag it in with effort.
Her head felt heavy, and her dark hair, stiff with dried blood and dirt, fell across her face in tangled strands. She didn't try to push it away. It was better this way. If they couldn't see her clearly, if she remained a small, silent shape in the corner, perhaps no one would notice her.
Tears had left dirty tracks on her cheeks, but now she had none left. All she felt was the fear—cold and heavy—settling in her stomach.
She lifted her gaze just a little, only enough to see what surrounded her.
Thick metal bars enclosed the space on all sides, blackened with rust and filth, and the moment her mind managed to piece together the image, she understood with a violent shiver that she was inside a cage.
Her heart began to beat faster.
Memories tried to return, but they came only in chaotic fragments, like shattered pieces of glass: chasing a deer through the forest to hunt it, the sound of footsteps running through leaves, shouts, a blinding light—and then the sudden pain in her back when someone struck her.
After that, there was nothing.
A muffled sigh was heard somewhere to the left, so faint that at first the girl thought she had imagined it. She froze immediately, her muscles tense and her breath cut short, listening carefully, and after a few moments she realized she was not alone.
Beyond the dark bars of the cage, other breaths could be heard—ragged and exhausted—barely restrained sobs and desperate whispers that died out quickly, as if people feared even their own voices.
There were other cages there.
Other people.
She couldn't see them clearly, because the hall was drowned in almost total darkness, lit only by a few filthy lamps hanging from the ceiling that flickered weakly, throwing trembling shadows across the rows of bars.
But she could hear them very well.
Somewhere to the right, a boy was crying softly, trying to smother his sobs, and a little farther away a girl was murmuring a prayer in a hurried string of words. Someone else dragged their chain across the dirty floor, and the sound of metal scraping against concrete echoed uneasily in the heavy silence of the room.
"Shut the hell up! "
The voice suddenly boomed through the hall, so loud it seemed to strike the walls like thunder.
All the sounds died instantly.
The girl's heart stopped for a moment, then began to beat faster when she heard heavy footsteps approaching through the rows of cages.
They were firm, heavy steps, and the floor creaked beneath each one.
Then the smell arrived as well.
A strong and revolting stench of rot, rancid fat, and old sweat that turned her stomach.
Cato, she glimpsed for a moment the badge pinned to the chest of the massive man, his name written clearly on it.
His enormous shadow passed between the rows of cages.
He was enormous. Fat hung over his belt, and his breathing came out heavy, like that of a tired animal. His thinning hair clung to his sweaty scalp, and a filthy beard hid half his face.
"If I hear one more whimper, I'll drag you out of those cages one by one and give you a reason to scream," he growled.
No one answered, and after a few moments Cato's heavy footsteps moved away through the rows of cages, leaving behind a suffocating silence. The girl exhaled slowly, carefully, as if even the sound of her breathing could draw attention to her again.
Time began to pass slowly—so slowly that each moment seemed to stretch painfully—and the pain in her body returned in stronger and stronger waves. She tried to move her fingers slightly, just to feel whether they still obeyed her. They had gone almost completely numb, a sign that she had probably been tied up or held still for a long time, though she didn't know how long had passed.
In truth, she knew nothing.
That thought pressed on her mind just as the shop door suddenly opened, and a cold current of night air swept inside, carrying with it the smell of the night and a shiver that ran through her entire body.
She knew what that meant.
Vampires.
The girl instinctively curled into the corner of the cage, trying to make herself as small as possible, and lowered her head so that her dirty hair, stiff with dried blood, covered her face. She didn't want to be seen, didn't want to draw glances, and above all she didn't want to seem interesting.
She didn't dare look toward them, nor did she dare breathe too deeply; she stayed motionless in the corner of the cage, trying to appear as small and insignificant as possible while focusing all her attention on the sounds around her.
The footsteps that entered the shop were surprisingly light, almost silent—far too light for creatures she knew were so powerful—and the contrast between the discreet way they moved and the fear they inspired made the silence in the room even heavier.
Cato's voice changed immediately, becoming suddenly fawning and full of respect.
"Welcome, master."
A short, careless laugh was heard.
"What do you have today?"
"Supplies. And a few new animals."
The sound of bars being shaken rang out somewhere nearby, and a boy began to cry, probably no longer able to contain his fear. Cato's reaction was immediate: the blow fell fast and brutal, and the sound of the impact cracked sharply through the shop, making the girl flinch.
The vampires began to wander among the cages, and she heard them stopping from time to time, asking questions or laughing quietly, as if everything were nothing more than entertainment to them. Even so, the girl did not raise her eyes even once.
Then the shop door opened again.
The change was immediate.
She wouldn't have known how to explain it, but she felt it instantly: a different presence, far stronger, far more dangerous.
The silence that fell over the room became different—heavier, more attentive—and calm, confident footsteps approached the counter.
"Cato."
The voice was low, cold, and perfectly controlled.
Cato laughed nervously.
"Master Azarie, what an honor."
"I heard you have new merchandise."
"Of course."
A short pause followed.
"I'm looking for a pet."
The girl's heart seemed to stop for a moment.
The footsteps moved closer slowly, passing from one cage to another while Cato spoke without pause, clearly trying to present his merchandise as well as possible.
"Young, healthy, docile…"
The bars sometimes rattled when the vampire approached, and the chains hanging from the prisoners' collars clinked faintly.
At last, the footsteps stopped.
Right in front of her cage.
The girl lifted her gaze without meaning to.
The vampire was tall—far too tall—and his black hair fell across his forehead in a way that sharpened his already angular features. His eyes were red—not a dark red, but a vivid red, almost glowing.
His gaze pierced straight through her.
She instinctively recoiled until her back struck the wall of the cage, and the sudden movement made the pain in her back explode.
A gasp slipped from her lips.
At the same moment, the wound on her thigh reopened, and the blood began to flow again.
The vampire froze.
His nostrils flared slightly, his fangs sliding over his lower lip, and the hunger was clearly written across his face.
Cato chuckled.
"Ah, this one's interesting."
The vampire did not take his eyes off her.
"Age?"
"Eighteen."
"Origin?"
"Rogue. Caught in the forest."
The vampire's eyes narrowed with pleasure.
"Has she been bitten?"
Cato grinned broadly.
"No."
He paused for a moment, savoring it.
"Pure."
The silence grew oppressive.
The girl felt her heart spiral out of control.
No. No. No.
The vampire reached out, and his fingers touched the bars of the cage.
"I'll take her."
The girl's breath broke.
She didn't want to.
Cato opened the cage without hesitation, and the chain attached to her collar jerked violently, dragging her out.
Her knees struck the cold floor, and the air refused to enter her chest.
Instinctively, she tried to pull at the collar.
Cato raised his hand toward her, but before he could strike, the vampire's voice cut through the air.
"Enough."
Cato stopped abruptly, almost comically.
The vampire looked at him coldly.
"I prefer my property to remain intact."
Cato swallowed and handed him the leash.
"Of course, master."
The vampire took it, and the girl felt the chain shift slightly.
"Stand up."
His voice remained calm, almost quiet, as if the situation held nothing unusual for him.
The girl's legs trembled from the pain and the weakness that had spread through her body, and for a few moments she believed she wouldn't manage to stand at all; yet with an effort that sent a painful shudder through her back and thigh, she finally managed to push herself upright.
Surprisingly, the vampire did not pull her after him or jerk the leash the way she expected. Instead, he remained still and simply watched her, waiting.
That felt immediately wrong—almost unsettling—because in her world vampires never waited for anyone.
They then walked toward the counter, and when they reached it Cato counted the money he had received, a sum large enough to make his greasy smile stretch even wider.
"Would you like equipment as well?" he asked, pulling from beneath the counter one by one collars, leashes, whips, and other instruments of control.
The vampire looked at the objects for a few moments without hurry, as if weighing their usefulness, then reached out and chose a single thing.
A leather whip.
He lifted it and balanced it lightly in his palm, testing its weight, before raising his gaze to the girl again.
His red eyes gleamed in the darkness of the shop.
"You'll have to learn quickly."