Marina Halloween isn’t for the living—it’s for the ones who ache to feel alive. I came to the masquerade hoping the noise will drown the quiet in my head. Then I see him—no mask, no mercy in his eyes. He looks at me like he’s already chosen me. Maybe that’s why I follow. Maybe I want to know what it feels like to be wanted enough to die for it. Lucien I kill to remember I’m human. One night a year, I let myself feel. Until her. Marina looks at me without fear, as if she’s been waiting for my hands, my knives, my hunger. She should run. She doesn’t. She whispers she wants to learn how I make death beautiful. Now I don’t know if I’m making a lover or a monster—only that when her pulse beats beneath my palm, there’s no sweeter sound.