Chapter 2 Genevieve

Vincent's Pov

“Genevieve.”

Her name left my mouth before thought could stop it. I stood over her still body, my hand pressed against the side of my neck where hunger burned through every vein.

The scent of her blood remained on my tongue—Fresh, warm, real.

Impossible.

I had watched Genevieve die. I had held her body after the last breath left her lungs, buried her with my own hands, and stood beside her grave until sunrise forced me away.

Yet she lay before me now with the same face, the same mouth, the same pale skin beneath the dirt, and the same dark hair spread across the ground.

My eyes moved over her again, searching for error, trickery, or madness, but there was none. A low pulse beat beneath the skin of her throat.

She was alive.

My fangs pressed against my lower lip.

Hunger rose again so sharply that my jaw clenched.

No.

I took two slow steps back, forcing distance between us.

I would not touch her again. I would not drink from her again.

My hands curled into fists as the craving moved through me. I had fed before finding her, but the scent of her blood had undone all control. It called to something old and violent inside me. I turned away from her body and forced myself to breathe slowly.

Two fast, young human heartbeats followed by the sound of voices—a male laugh and a female whisper. Leaves shifted beneath careless footsteps. I moved silently through the trees until I saw them.

Two students in outdoor camp uniforms stood near a narrow trail. Their jackets were tied around their waists. The boy held a flashlight pointed at the ground. The girl kept glancing behind them.

“We should go back,” she said quietly. “If Mr. Robinson notices we’re gone, we’re dead.”

“He won’t notice,” the boy replied. “He was snoring when we left.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

He smiled and pulled her closer. “You worry too much.”

“I’m serious.”

“And I’m serious too.”

He kissed her.

She pushed at his chest once, then laughed and pulled him back into the kiss. It deepened quickly, both of them forgetting where they were. Their heartbeats quickened, and the scent of warm blood filled the air.

The hunger inside me snapped.

The girl opened her eyes first, and saw me standing between the trees.

Her smile vanished.

“W—what is that?”

The boy turned sharply. “What?”

I was already moving.

I reached him before fear could settle on his face. My hand closed around his throat and slammed him against a tree, sending the flashlight into the leaves.

He tried to scream, but my fangs entered his neck first.

Hot blood filled my mouth. His body fought for a few seconds before weakening in my grip.

The girl screamed and ran.

I drank until the heartbeat in my grip stopped, then dropped him and went after her. She stumbled through the dark, crying for help as branches caught in her hair. I caught her by the shoulder and pulled her back.

“Please!” she cried. “Please don’t—”

I bit into her throat.

Her hands struck my chest, then slowed.

Her body went still.

I released her and stepped away.

Silence returned to the woods. Two bodies lay in the dirt while the hunger inside me eased, though not enough.

It would have to be enough.

I returned to the grave and found her where I had left her, pale and motionless beside the broken earth. Mud covered the thin gown hanging from her body.

I slid one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, then carried her through the forest toward the road leading home.

The Ashmere Mansion stood ahead of me, the place where everything had begun.

As I expected, my brothers were still living apart. The mansion remained the same, though dust and cobwebs had claimed its halls.

I entered my room and laid her on the untouched bed, waiting for her to open her eyes.

I remained beside her until morning.

Only then did her fingers move and her eyes open slowly, adjusting to the light as she tried to sit up.

Relief came before thought.

“Genevieve,” I said immediately, stepping closer. “You are awake.”

She looked at me without recognition, only confusion settling in her gaze.

“W—who are you?” she asked.

I froze because her voice did not belong to the memory I carried.

I stepped closer. “It is—”

I stopped when she looked around the room instead of listening, her attention breaking away from me completely. Her gaze dropped to her body, her hands touching the fabric she wore as if only now realizing it was not her own.

“Why am I dressed like this?” she asked quietly.

“You are safe,” I said. “You are home.”

She shook her head slowly before her hand moved to her neck where I had bitten her. Her fingers pressed harder as she felt the wound still there, and her breathing changed immediately.

“I remember…” she whispered.

Her eyes lifted again, but something inside them shifted.

Fear.

“You,” she said, pulling back slightly. “You bit—.”

I reached for her. “Genevieve—”

“No.” Her voice sharpened as she moved away. “Don’t come near me.”

She turned suddenly, stumbling out of the room before I could stop her. I followed her immediately. Her pace increased. She ran through the mansion halls faster than I expected, down the stairs and out through the main doors into the early morning light.

“Genevieve” I called after her, but she did not listen. Before I could move with my speed, a sharp pain hit my head, forcing me to pause for a moment, and when I looked up, she was gone.

I followed her scent instead.

I could not lose her again.

I found her at a building she entered without hesitation, and I followed her inside. Her voice echoed through the space.

“Andy!” she called loudly. “Andy, please answer me!”

Then she stopped, when she saw herself in the mirror. I watched from the entrance as she raised her hand slowly and touched her reflection.

Her breath slowed.

“What…” she whispered.

“What is this?”

She stepped closer, staring at herself without blinking.

“That’s not me,” she said quietly. “That’s not my face.”

Her breathing grew uneven as she stepped back, her eyes scanning the reflection as though it might change.

“No,” she whispered. “No… no…”

Her hands went to her head as she shook it in disbelief.

“What is happening to me?”

She turned suddenly, looking around the room as though expecting an answer.

“What am I doing in someone else’s body?”

The words struck before I could fully understand them.

She was not Genevieve.

That thought should not have been possible.

But I saw it now.

My control broke instantly.

I crossed the distance between us in a single movement and gripped her throat, pushing her hard against the wall.

“Who are you?” I demanded. “What did you do to her?”

Her hands flew up as she struggled for air.

“Stop… you’re hurting me,” she choked out.

My grip tightened without thought.

“Who are you?” I asked again.

“I don’t know—” she forced out. “I don’t

know what you’re talking about!”

Then suddenly, pressure surged through her and slammed into me, throwing me backward into the wall, hard enough for the stone to crack.