Ten thousand years later…
The world had changed, but Damon Florentino had not.
New York City's neon lights reflected in his cold blue eyes as he stood on the rooftop of an old building in Manhattan, staring down at the bustling streets below. Cars honked, music thumped through club doors, and people hurried through their lives completely unaware of the predator watching from above.
Damon inhaled deeply. The city carried a thousand scents — food, smoke, perfume — but beneath it all, he still sensed blood. Warm, pulsing, living. The hunger never left him. It was his oldest companion, his eternal curse.
The wind shifted, bringing with it a faint memory he hated:
Marcus' howl echoing through the ancient forests.
Lucas' laugh dripping with malice.
And Sarah's voice whispering the incantation that ruined everything.
Damon clenched his jaw.
"I should've died that night," he muttered.
Instead, he had survived — or continued, depending on how one viewed immortality.
He leapt effortlessly off the rooftop, landing silently in a narrow alley. His senses sharpened instantly. Someone was nearby. Not a threat — but… familiar.
A soft scraping sound. A gasp.
A human.
He turned the corner and found her.
A young woman sat on a wooden crate, sketchbook in her lap, completely lost in her drawing. The streetlamp flickered above her, casting warm light on her face. Her features were delicate yet strong, eyes focused with passion, lips slightly parted in concentration.
Aria.
Damon froze.
He didn't know her name yet — not truly — but something in him recognized her. As if the world had drawn them into the same place, the same moment, intentionally.
Aria felt a sudden chill and lifted her head.
Her eyes met his.
And Damon's dead heart — the heart that had not beaten for millennia — tightened painfully in his chest. An impossible sensation. A forgotten one.
Aria blinked in surprise, startled by the sight of the man emerging from darkness.
His presence was overwhelming — tall, composed, unnaturally beautiful. He looked like someone carved out of moonlight and danger.
But instead of fear… curiosity warmed her gaze.
"Um… hi," she said softly.
Damon didn't speak. He couldn't. The hunger surged, but so did something deeper — something he hadn't felt since he was human.
Aria shifted awkwardly. "Are you… okay?"
He finally exhaled. "You shouldn't be alone out here."
"And you should?" she shot back, lifting an eyebrow.
He almost smiled. Almost.
Aria closed her sketchbook and stood, brushing dust from her jeans. "Well, since you're here, maybe neither of us is alone anymore."
That simple sentence hit him harder than a silver blade.
Damon stepped closer, unable to stop himself. "You don't know what you're saying."
"And you don't know who I am," she replied calmly.
Her courage — or naivety — intrigued him.
But then, the air around them shifted abruptly.
A low growl echoed from the shadows of the alley. Damon's expression hardened instantly.
He knew that sound.
Marcus.
The werewolf had found him.
And he wasn't alone.
Damon instinctively stepped in front of Aria.
"Stay behind me."
For the first time in centuries, Damon Florentino wasn't thinking about hunger, or survival, or revenge.
He was thinking about protecting someone.
Someone human.
Someone who should have meant nothing to him — yet somehow meant everything.