LUCIUS POV
I used to hunt reckless and wasteful, driven purely by bloodlust.
It was simple back then. Clean. Hunger rose, I answered it. Bodies fell, veins emptied, and the world went quiet again. No thoughts. No guilt. No ache. Just the sharp clarity of survival and power.
I never imagined heartbreak could mimic bloodlust so closely—or worse, surpass it.
It has always been that way—bloodlust driving me forward, senses sharpened to a razor's edge, morality tossed aside the moment hunger takes hold. I kill fast, drain faster, and leave nothing behind but husks cooling in the dark. I've worn that brutality like a crown for centuries. It never bothered me.
But heartbreak?
Heartbreak is worse than bloodlust.
Bloodlust burns hot and clean. It consumes, then fades, leaving behind clarity and silence. Heartbreak festers. It claws. It whispers. It doesn't let go.
Tonight, it did.
