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In this world,

the choice is yours:

became the hunter,

or hope you outrun the hunted.

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*****

The cityscape of Metamorphosis, a canvas splashed with neon, pulsed with a frenetic energy. Yet, Lukas felt utterly detached, a ghost amidst the pulsing bodies and pounding music. Across the table, his date tapped a restless rhythm against her phone case with her perfectly manicured nails. Her gaze, glued to the screen, flickered with each swipe, oblivious to the deepening frown lines etching his face.

Lukas scanned the throbbing dance floor, the flashing lights strobing across a sea of writhing bodies and plastered smiles. Yet, none of it sparked the thrill he craved. He stretched, the metal stool groaning in protest. And then, a flicker of stillness amidst the chaos caught his eye.

A lone figure radiating an aura of quietude, an island of serenity in the churning sea.

Intriguing.

Their gazes met, a spark igniting in his chest. Before he could blink, she glided away from the dance floor, her movements an anomaly in the sea of flailing limbs and forced sensuality. An invisible thread drew him after her.

Lukas navigated through the crowd, ignoring the stench of sweat and spilled drinks, his gaze fixed on her. This one, barely a woman yet radiating an undeniable allure, seemed exactly his type.

He emerged into the alley, expecting a cool escape. Instead, icy rain lashed against his face, and the putrid stench of overflowing bins assaulted his senses. He grimaced, the crisp fabric of his suit feeling out of place amidst the grimy reality of the alleyway.

Yet, a new scent cut through the foulness: a wisp of cigarette smoke mingled with something rich and exotic. It drew him in, an irresistible lure despite the unsettling darkness that pulsed beneath the neon's distorted glow.

Incredibly alluring.

"Enjoying the night air?" Lukas's smooth voice dripped with amusement, his gaze lingering a beat too long on her. “Though, these alleys can get a bit rough, especially for a beautiful lady like yourself."

Her reply was a husky murmur, barely a flicker of interest in her eyes. "Perhaps," she breathed, smoke curling from her lips like secrets escaping the past. "But the club isn't exactly my scene."

Lukas’s smile, practised and charming, flashed across his face. "Then might I offer a distraction of a different kind?" He took a step closer, his shadow looming over her lithe form. "Somewhere less… crowded."

"Not interested," she said, her voice firm, her back turning on him. This wasn't the usual script. An unwelcome instinct surged through him. He trapped her against the rough brick, a frown creasing his brow. Not his smoothest move.

Her voice, a fragile whisper swallowed by the rain, "Let me go."

He ignored her, his hunger a ravenous beast. He craved the hunt, the dance, the ecstasy of a willing surrender. Consent was the rarest vintage. But tonight, he was a starved predator, reduced to desperate clumsiness.

His gaze raked across her, feasting on every detail. Rosy lips, the curve of her throat, a sliver of pale skin exposed by the lace choker - each detail fueled the primal hunger surging through his undead veins. Reason drowned in the roar of his desire.

Lukas lunged for a kiss. But with a barely perceptible tilt of her head, she evaded him effortlessly, leaving him momentarily off balance. "Playing games, are we?"

"No," she countered, her voice a low growl, "ending them."

A feral smile stretched across his face, revealing a glint of pointed canines. "Feisty," he rasped, his voice a seductive growl. "I like that in a challenge." With a predatory grace, he lunged once more, fangs bared and eyes burning with a hungry glint.

Steel met flesh, not as he anticipated. A searing pain erupted in his chest, an inferno consuming everything in its path. Shame, hotter than the molten metal searing his insides, washed over him. His eyes met hers, drawn to the crimson depths colder than frozen flames. A flicker of amusement, laced with a hint of icy indifference, sparked in her eyes. A smile, devoid of warmth, played on her lips, sending a primal fear deeper than death itself. 

He wasn't the hunter. This was the hunter. His final vision fractured, mirroring the shattering of his immortal form.

Bathed in the ethereal glow of moonlight, Callista stood, a vision of serenity belying the power thrumming beneath her skin. The blade, vibrant moments ago, now dissolved into a swirling vortex of stardust with a flick of her wrist. Strands of hair, the colour of twilight, drifted down, a final, chilling caress against the form dissolving into the night.

Adjusting her jacket, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving only the echo of footsteps and the eerie stillness of the starless night. A faint whisper, carried on the wind, echoed:

"Indeed, hunter. The darkness holds many shadows. Beware them all."