Leave

Bryce grabs Cortney's arm and pulls her back toward the house. "Come on. Let's go." "But—" "She said she's fine. Let's go." Cortney resists for a moment, her eyes locked on Tara's blissful expression, then she turns and follows. They stumble through the dark woods, branches whipping at their faces, until they burst out into the field. The bonfire is still dead, but the frat house blazes with light and music ahead. They don't speak until they're back at the back door. Bryce holds it open for Cortney, and they step inside. The party continues, oblivious. "Want a drink?" Bryce asks, his voice hollow. "Yeah," Cortney says. "I think I need one." They make their way to the punch bowl. Mark is still there, now talking to a different girl. He waves at Cortney, unconcerned. She waves back mechanically. They fill their cups and stand in a corner, watching the crowd. The music pounds. People laugh and shout. No one seems to notice that they were gone. "Did that really happen?" Cortney asks. "I don't know," Bryce says. He drinks deeply. "I don't know anymore." They stand there, nursing their cups, the party swirling around them. The lights flicker once more, briefly, then steady. No one seems to care. The night presses on.

A few minutes later, the crowd parts and Tara emerges from the back door. She's disheveled—hair mussed, shirt untucked, a flush on her cheeks. The leather-jacket man is nowhere in sight. But there's something different in the way she moves. Slower, more deliberate. Like she's savoring every step. She spots Bryce and Cortney in the corner and glides toward them, weaving through the dancers with an unearthly grace. When she reaches them, she smiles—the same knowing smile from the woods. "Hey guys," she says, her voice a purr. "I told you I'd catch up." Cortney stares at her. "Tara... are you okay?" "Never better." Tara laughs, soft and intimate. She steps closer to Bryce, her body brushing against his. "You know, Bryce, you should have stayed. He's got... interesting talents." Bryce's mouth goes dry. "I'm good." "Are you sure?" Tara's hand drifts to his chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns. "He could teach you things. Both of you...mmm..i could teach you." Cortney grabs Tara's wrist. "Tara, snap out of it. What happened in those woods?" Tara turns her gaze to Cortney, and her eyes are different—darker, hungrier. "What happened is exactly what I needed. You should try it sometime." She pulls her wrist free gently, then reaches up and cups Cortney's cheek. "You feel so tense, Cort. Let me help you relax." The air around them thickens. The music seems to fade. Cortney stands frozen, her breath hitching as Tara's thumb traces her jawline. "I said I'm fine," Tara whispers, her lips close to Cortney's ear. "But you're not. I can feel it. Come with me. I'll show you what I found." The lights flicker. Once. Twice. They hold steady. When Bryce looks down, Tara's hand is on Cortney's waist, pulling her gently toward the back door. Cortney isn't resisting. "Cortney," Bryce says The back door looms open, darkness beyond. "Join us," Tara says, not turning around. "Or don't. But I'm not leaving her alone out there." She leads Cortney into the night. Bryce stands alone, cup in hand, the party roaring around him. The lights flicker again. Longer this time. When they come back, the door is closed. And Bryce is alone.

Bryce stands there a long time, the cup growing warm in his hand. He watches the door. It doesn't open. He finishes his drink. Sets the cup down. Moves toward the door. Then stops. She said she was fine. But Cortney—Cortney didn't say anything. She just followed, like a sleepwalker, like something had her by the throat and was pulling her gently into the dark. He pushes through the crowd. The music is too loud. The bodies are too close. By the time he reaches the back door, his hand is on the handle. He doesn't open it. He stands there, feeling the cold radiating through the wood, listening for any sound from beyond. There's nothing. Just the thrum of the party, the distant chatter, the bass vibrating through the floorboards. He lets his hand fall. I'm not going out there...why should I, Cortney wasnt in danger or anything, she just went to hang with Tara fir awhile. He turns around and walks back into the crowd, finds a corner, watches the door. Minutes pass. Half an hour. The party begins to thin as people drift toward other rooms or the front lawn. The lights flicker every so often, but no one comments on it anymore

--- meanwhile---

Cortney follows Tara into the dark without a word. The night air hits her face, cool and damp, carrying the scent of earth and something else—something sweet and heavy, like overripe fruit. Tara leads her through the trees. Her hand is warm. Cortney's mind is quiet, the usual chatter of what should I do and what is this and this is dangerous all muffled, like hearing someone shout from underwater. They reach the clearing. The man in the leather jacket is still there, leaning against the tree, arms crossed. In the moonlight, Cortney can see his face—sharp cheekbones, dark eyes that seem to absorb light rather than reflect it. He looks at her, and she feels it in her chest, a pull, a warmth spreading through her limbs. "Good," he says. "You brought a friend." Tara releases Cortney's hand and steps toward him. She moves differently now, her hips swaying, her body language open and inviting. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him, slow and deep. Cortney watches. Her body feels like it's humming. "Come here," the man says, his voice soft but carrying an edge of command. Cortney's feet move before she decides. She crosses the clearing and stops in front of them. Tara pulls back, her face flushed, her eyes dark and hungry. "Trust me," Tara whispers. And Cortney does. She doesn't know why, but she does. The man steps forward. He doesn't touch her, not yet. He just looks at her, and she feels like he's seeing every part of her, every secret she's ever kept. "Close your eyes," he says. She does. And the night wraps around her like a lover. Back at the party, Bryce checks his phone. No messages. No calls. He's been standing by the back door for two hours. The party is winding down. People are leaving. Mark stumbled out an hour ago with the girl he was talking to, not even looking for Cortney. Bryce stares at the door. I should have gone after her. But he didn't. And now it's too late. Or maybe it's just beginning. He feels it in the air—a shift, a charge, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks. The lights flicker and hold. The music drops for a second, then comes back. Then the back door opens. Cortney walks in. She's alone. Her clothes are rumpled, her hair is wild, her lips are parted and red. She looks around the room, her eyes finding Bryce immediately. And she smiles—the same smile Tara gave him earlier. Knowing. Hungry. Satisfied. She glides toward him, weaving through the few remaining people with that same unearthly grace. "Hey," she says, stopping in front of him. Her voice is lower, huskier than before. "I'm back." Bryce stares at her. "Cortney... what happened out there?" She steps closer, her body pressing against his. Her hand cups his cheek, warm and possessive. "Something incredible," she breathes. "And I want to share it with you." She leans in, and her lips are an inch from his. "Come with me," she whispers. "I'll show you what I found." The lights flicker. Bryce looks past her, toward the back door, where darkness waits. He looks at Cortney—changed, hungry, alive in a way he's never seen her before. And he makes his choice.

A few minutes earlier.

... Cortney is in the clearing. The man stands before her, Tara at his side. Cortney's eyes are closed, her breath shallow. She feels the night air on her skin, hears the rustle of leaves, the distant thrum of the party. "Open your eyes," he says. She does. He's closer now, his face inches from hers. His dark eyes seem to pull her in, to drink her. Tara is behind him, , naked now, watching, her lips parted, her hand sliding down her own body. "Undress," he says. Cortney doesn't think. She pulls off her shirt, her shorts, her underwear. The cool air kisses her skin, but she doesn't shiver. She feels heat radiating from him. Tara steps forward and takes Cortney's hand, leading her to a patch of soft grass. The man follows, his footsteps silent. Tara lays Cortney down, her touch gentle but firm. She kisses Cortney's neck, her collarbone, her breasts, while the man watches. "Please," Cortney whispers, not knowing what she's asking for. The man kneels behind Tara, his hands on her hips. He enters her from behind, and Tara moans, her mouth still on Cortney's skin. The rhythm starts slow, building. Cortney feels Tara's pleasure through the air, through the touch. Then the man pulls out of Tara and moves over Cortney. He positions himself between her legs, his body cool against her heat. He looks into her eyes. "Trust me," he says. And she does. He enters her in one smooth motion, and Cortney gasps. It's not like anything she's felt before. It's deeper, fuller, as if he's filling every empty part of her. He moves slowly, deliberately, and each thrust sends waves of pleasure through her body. She arches into him, her hands gripping his shoulders. Tara is beside her, kissing her, whispering in her ear. "Yes, let him in. Let him change you." The man's pace quickens. Cortney feels herself climbing, her mind blurring, her body no longer her own. She's floating, she's burning, she's being remade. She cries out, her climax crashing through her like a storm, and she feels him pulse inside her. She collapses, gasping, her body trembling. He pulls out and stands, looking down at her. Tara strokes her hair.

He kneels beside her, his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight. "You've done well," he says to Tara, his voice smooth as silk. "She's perfect." Tara smiles, two fangs lengthening in her mouth, becoming sharp points. She leans down and kisses Cortney's forehead. "Welcome," Tara whispers. The man lifts Cortney's chin, tilting her head to the side, exposing her neck. "Now," he says, "you'll be one of us." He bites down. Cortney feels a sharp sting, then a rush of heat and pleasure that makes her gasp. She feels her blood leaving her, feels him drinking, and she doesn't want it to stop. When he pulls back, she feels empty, cold. Her heart is slowing. Her vision is blurring. feeling her body change, her senses sharpen, her heart stop. When venom finishes its job, the world is different. She can hear the party from miles away, can smell the sweat and perfume and cheap beer. She can see in the dark. She can feel the pulse of every living thing in the forest. She looks at her hands. Her skin is pale, flawless. She looks at Tara, at the man, and she sees them clearly now—their true faces, their hunger, their power. "You're one of us," Tara says, taking her hand. "Forever." Cortney smiles, her own teeth sharp against her lips. "Forever," she repeats. The man stands, pulling Tara and Cortney to their feet. "Go back to the party," he says to Cortney. "Bring your friend into fold " Cortney nods. She dresses quickly, her movements fluid, graceful. She walks back through the forest, the world alive with sound and scent. She reaches the party, opens the door, and sees Bryce waiting. She feels his heart beating, his blood calling to her. She glides toward him, hungry in a new way. And she knows he will follow. He always follows. Back to present "Let me show you, she purrs to Bryce,

Let me show you, she purrs to Bryce, her voice a velvet promise laced with something darker. Her eyes catch the light, and for a moment, Bryce sees something flicker in them—a hunger, a coldness that wasn't there before. She steps closer, her movements fluid, almost too graceful. The air around her seems to hum. Bryce takes a step back, his hand gripping the doorframe. His heart hammers in his chest. He remembers the way she left, the way Tara looked at him earlier, the way Cortney walked back into the party like a stranger wearing her face. "No," he says, his voice firmer than he feels. "I don't know what happened out there, but you're not yourself." Cortney's smile falters. She tilts her head, her pupils dilating. "I'm more myself than I've ever been, Bryce. I feel everything now. I see everything. You can feel it too. You just have to trust me." He shakes his head, backing into the party. The music thuds, the lights flicker. A few people glance their way, but no one intervenes. "I saw you leave. I saw the way Tara looked. You're not the same person who walked into those woods." Her eyes narrow, a flash of something ancient and predatory. "No, I'm not. I'm better. And you can be too. But only if you come with me. Now." Bryce feels a pull—a strange, magnetic tug in his chest, as if her words are hooks sinking into his will. He shakes his head, forcing himself to look away. "I'm not going." Cortney's expression hardens. Her lips part, and he catches a glimpse of something sharp behind her lips "You will," she says, her voice dropping to a whisper that seems to cut through the noise of the party. "Sooner or later, you'll come to me. You'll beg for it." She turns, her hair swirling around her, and walks back into the darkness of the forest. The door swings shut behind her. The air in the room feels lighter, warmer. Bryce exhales, realizing he'd been holding his breath. He looks at the door, his skin crawling. He knows, with a certainty that chills him to the bone, that something is hunting him now. And it knows exactly where he is.