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I often think of my first “meeting” with MoonDance. You could say it left an indelible impression.

Unfortunately for me (or fortunately), I’ve never been good at first impressions.

Too skinny. Too pale. Eyes too twitchy. Weird teeth hanging around my neck like they belonged in a shark tank.

But the infamous Rico had hired me anyway.

Didn’t ask many questions, just nodded once at my fake ID and fake social security card and said, “You break up fights, you get paid. You start one, you disappear.”

Fair deal.

Heroes Bar I inhaled them. Ate them. Built a life around them.

And now she’s ten feet away.

Rico doesn’t look surprised. Just nods at a familiar face and pours her the usual. White wine, no words.

I found her. The Universe conspired to make it happen. Hell, I made it happen.

But it still doesn’t feel real.

She sits in the far corner, facing the door, one elbow on the table, one hand wrapped around the glass like it’s the only thing anchoring her to this world.

She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t check her phone. Doesn’t flirt or fidget or pretend to care what song’s playing.

She’s watching, waiting, cocking her head. Wait, she’s listening .

I wonder if she feels me staring at her like a lunatic from the shadows.

I wonder if she knows .

That the weird, quiet kid who’s been venting in late-night chats about blood and loneliness and hunger is now breathing the same air she is.

I don’t approach. I wouldn’t know what to say if I did.

Hi, I’m Fang950. I’m the one who figured out where you live because I’m crazy and obsessed and starving.

Nope, not the move.

Instead, I lean against the wall and pretend to scan the crowd. One eye on the pool table. One on her.

She sips her wine slowly, like she’s measuring time with each taste.

My fingers itch.

I want to talk to her, message her, sit next to her. Ask her the one question I’ve never dared type:

Are you really, truly, a vampire?

And maybe, just maybe, if I stare long enough…

She’ll look back at me.

But she doesn’t.

Not tonight.