The chill of the late Manhattan night clung to me like a second skin, each step of my heels echoing too loudly on the deserted pavement. "This is a really bad idea, Ella," I muttered to myself, clutching my handbag tighter. The street, usually bustling with life, was now eerily quiet, shops shuttered and dark. My instincts screamed at me to run, but a shrill, piercing scream shattered the silence, pulling me towards a dark alley, a place that felt ripped from a horror movie.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence that followed. "Hello?" A man's voice, deep and resonant, cut through the darkness. A silhouette emerged, tall and imposing, and then he was there, right in front of me, a dangerous smile gracing his lips. "Tsk. Sweet miss, I'm a little sorry to hurt you." His fangs, sharp and undeniable, glinted in the faint streetlight. The last thing I remembered was a searing pain in my neck, and the horrible sound of gulping.