Luna's Wrath: Reborn for Vengeance

The bass was a physical weight. It throbbed in the floorboards of the off-campus apartment, vibrating through the soles of my sneakers and settling in my ribs. I hated it.

"Elara, stop looking at your phone! Your parents aren't going to call fire and brimstone down on you before midnight," Emma shouted over the music, her laughter bright and infectious. She looked beautiful—full of life, her braids swinging as she danced.

I tried to smile, but my hand instinctively went to my phone in my pocket. "You know how my father is, Emma. If I’m not back by eleven, the 'Godly' lectures start at five a.m."

"Relax, babe," a new voice joined us. Dyna stepped out of the shadows of the hallway. She wasn't dancing. She was holding two plastic cups, the red liquid inside sloshing against the rim. "It’s the end of the semester. Even a minister’s daughter deserves one night of freedom."

Dyna handed me one of the cups. Her eyes were fixed on mine, steady and unblinking.

"I don't know, Dyna..." I hesitated.

"It's just punch, Elara. Non-alcoholic, just for you," Dyna insisted, her voice smooth. "Mark is already at the VIP section. He’s waiting for you to 'loosen up' so he can introduce you to the senior department heads. You want to be a good girlfriend, don't you?"

I looked across the room. Mark, my "perfect" boyfriend, was surrounded by people, laughing and looking every bit the golden boy. He didn't look my way.

"Fine," I sighed, taking the cup. "One drink."

"That's my girl," Dyna whispered.

As I raised the cup to my lips, I felt a strange prickle on the back of my neck. It was that feeling of being watched. I looked toward the darkened kitchen archway.

A man stood there. He was tall, his frame nearly filling the doorway, shrouded in a dark hoodie. I couldn't see his face, but the light from the disco ball caught a heavy, silver watch on his wrist. Even from five feet away, a scent cut through the smell of sweat and cheap cologne in the room: expensive cedarwood and something sharp, like hospital-grade antiseptic.

It was a cold scent. A clean scent.

I took a sip of the drink. It tasted sweet—too sweet, with a bitter metallic aftertaste that clung to the back of my throat.

"Go on, finish it," Dyna encouraged, her hand resting on my shoulder.

I drained the cup. Within minutes, the music changed. The thumping bass didn't feel like a heartbeat anymore; it felt like a hammer. The lights began to bleed into one another, turning the room into a kaleidoscope of terrifying colors.

"Emma?" I reached out, but my arm felt like it was made of lead.

Emma was spinning, her face blurring into a smear of brown and white. I looked for Dyna, but she was gone. I looked for Mark, and for a split second, I saw him. He was standing with Dyna, his back turned to me, his head leaning in close to hers.

"Mark..." I tried to scream, but my voice was a whisper.

The floor tilted. The world rushed up to meet me. As I began to fall, the scent of cedarwood grew stronger, wrapping around me like a shroud. A pair of strong, gloved hands caught me before I hit the ground, and the last thing I felt was the cold wind as I was carried out of the noise and into the silent, predatory night.