The wind bit at her cheeks, stinging against the leather of her jacket as her motorcycle thundered down the lonely stretch of highway. The hum of the engine beneath her was the only sound she trusted anymore. It drowned out the ghosts in her head, the shadows of a world she'd abandoned.
A world that still wanted her back.
Raven. That was the name she'd claimed for herself when she ran. She wasn't the girl they remembered—wasn't the daughter of the president of the Iron Serpents Motorcycle Club. She wasn't the princess of blood and chrome, expected to inherit a throne built on violence and loyalty.
No, Raven was free. Or at least she tried to believe she was.
The highway stretched endlessly before her, but the farther she rode, the heavier the memories clung to her. Her father's voice barking orders, the stares of men who saw her as untouchable property, the whispered promise of a future she never wanted.
So she left. She left without a word, without a goodbye, with nothing but her bike, her bruised pride, and the clothes on her back.
Freedom was supposed to feel lighter. Instead, it was just quieter.
As dusk settled, Raven's stomach twisted with hunger, pulling her toward the faint neon glow of a roadside bar. A place with enough noise, booze, and smoke to blur the sharp edges of her thoughts. She parked her bike, the weight of it grounding her, and stepped inside.
The bar smelled like spilled whiskey and sweat. She liked it instantly. People here didn't look twice at her leather jacket or the way she carried herself. She was just another body looking to drink, to disappear.
But as she slid onto a stool, she felt it.
The shift.
The air around her grew thicker, heavier, as though the shadows themselves turned to watch. A man sat two stools away, his eyes too sharp, his smile too hungry. He raised his glass, his gaze lingering on her throat.
Raven frowned.
Predator. Every instinct in her screamed it, the same way she could always tell danger before it struck.
When the man stood, moving toward her with a grace that didn't belong to mortals, she understood why. His teeth flashed—not human teeth. Fangs.
Her blood went cold.
She'd stumbled into something far worse than her past.
Before she could react, another figure intercepted. A man with eyes that glowed faintly like molten gold, movements quick as lightning. He shoved the vampire back, his voice a low growl Raven couldn't place in any language she knew.
The two clashed, fast and violent, until steel and shadow met flesh. The vampire collapsed, lifeless on the bar's sticky floor.
Raven stared, wide-eyed, as the golden-eyed stranger turned toward her.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, voice rough but calm, like he wasn't standing over a corpse.
Her chest tightened. Something in his presence pulled at her—not fear, not yet, but something far more dangerous.
And for the first time since she ran, Raven realized her past wasn't the only thing chasing her.
The world she'd stumbled into was hungry. And it had already noticed her.