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T he hunger is instant. Ruthless. Overwhelming.

It crashes through me, a force of pure, primal need, obliterating all other thoughts, all other sensations. My throat is raw, aching, as if I’ve been screaming for hours. My stomach is a void, a black hole demanding to be filled.

My eyelids snap open.

The world is crystal clear, every detail so sharp it almost hurts. The air hums, vibrating against my skin, and I can hear someone breathing. No, two people. Both heartbeats are fast, scared.

I push up and?—

It’s like my body isn’t mine because everything feels… different.

My balance is perfect, my limbs strong, precise, but there’s something foreign about them—like I haven’t quite settled into my own skin.

What the hell? Why do I feel like this?

My eyes shift when I notice something red on the floor.

That’s blood.

There’s a smear of it leading up to this table. There are droplets of it leading back to the door. There’s tons of it coating the table I’m lying on.

Fuck, it’s everywhere.

The metallic scent coats the back of my throat. It’s on my hands, drying in deep, crusted layers, seeping into my fingernails.

I glance down.

A handful of scattered, bloody teeth lie in the mess. My teeth, I realize, and a sick shudder rakes through me. My fingers brush over my lips before my tongue cautiously slides over the teeth currently inhabiting my mouth.

Fangs.

Holy shit, those are fangs pressing against my tongue.

The hunger tightens in my gut.

“Lana.”

I forgot I wasn’t alone. My eyes rip across the room, and there, I find Florence and Clementine.

Florence takes a step back, away from me, and that move alone sends the warning bells in my brain crazy. Clementine immediately places herself between me and her wife.

“Here, Lana,” Florence says, her voice shaking, and I realize what that is in her eyes: fear.

And it’s directed at me. I realize why when she holds something out.

The moment I see the familiar sight of a blood bag, my nostrils flare, and lava coats my throat.

I lunge forward, only it’s more like I teleported across the space.

One second, I was standing beside a metal table in the center of the room, and the next, I’m across the space, ripping the blood bag from Florence’s fingers.

Before I register anything that’s happened, I bite into the plastic casing. Sharpened, elongated teeth sink into it, and a cool, thick liquid gushes into my mouth, staining my lips.

A moan works its way up my throat as I suck. I squeeze too hard, and the bag pops, most of the dark red liquid spilling over my chin and my hands, splashing on the floor.

An annoyed huff comes out of me, sounding feral.

“Lana,” Florence says. My eyes rip up to her, and she’s extending another bag to me, Clementine still placed strategically between us.

I snatch it in the blink of an eye and bite down on the plastic once more. I’m more careful this time, measuring my grip on it, pacing my strength.

I draw from the bag. I suck the cold, metallic liquid down my throat, and I feel every inch of my stomach when the liquid hits.

And the moment it does, something in my body…

quivers. I feel this surge. It’s like adrenaline and peace and purpose course through my veins, pounding through my heart, filling every bit of my brain.

Another moan leaves my lips as I tilt my head backward, letting the incredible sensation wash over every inch of me.

I feel amazing.

I feel capable.

I feel fucking divine.

The emptied blood bag drops from my hand to the floor.

I take in a deep breath, sorting through all the different smells.

Fuck, it’s like I’m on massive sensory overload.

I can’t take everything in fast enough, yet I know it’s only been…

fifty-one seconds since I opened my eyes.

But the smell… It’s sterile, like medicine and bleach.

There’s also the scent of animals—rats. I smell skin, and shampoo, and perfume.

I smell exhaust pumping through the ventilation system, though it’s faint.

I smell… New York City. I smell… everything.

My eyes slide open, and it’s like I’ve needed glasses my entire life but never knew it. Now I’ve suddenly got them, and I can see everything . Every speck of dust floating in the air, every fingerprint on the glass, every single scuff on the floor.

My vision is crystal clear, the entire world around me in incredible detail.

“How do you feel, Lana?”

My eyes rip over to the two women staring at me with wary anticipation. And where adrenaline was raging through my body just moments ago, now I feel equilibrium settling in my veins.

“What the hell happened to me?” The words come out a little raspy but with a profound clarity, with a new kind of… authority.

Clementine glances at Florence, her expression worried and a little doubtful.

“I’ll explain it all,” Florence says, and there’s a mix of fear and excited curiosity filling her eyes. “But first, I need to know. How are you feeling? Thirsty? Stable?”

I want to scoff at that last question, but considering everything that’s happened in the last few moments since I woke up, I guess it’s reasonable.

“I’m not thirsty,” I say, going with her very literal questions, taking things one at a time. “Which doesn’t seem right. I’ve seen Ares drink four of these things at a time. One and a half, and I’m good?”

A little smirk starts pulling at the corner of Florence’s mouth. “You’re not a Born, Lana.”

And it all starts hitting me like tidal waves.

“You turned me,” I say. Despite the rising torrent of emotion inside me, my voice is smooth, strong.

Florence doesn’t blink. “You were going to die. I couldn’t let that happen. The damage… what Giovanni did… the hospital wouldn’t have been able to fix that. But regeneration is the basis of what I created.”

The breath exhales out of me.

Fuck. I almost forgot. It almost seems like a distant memory, yet it’s right there, playing out in my mind. Giovanni gutted me in retaliation for what Ares did to his son. He split me open like an animal. And Florence—Florence made a choice.

She saved me.

“So, what am I?” I ask, needing some kind of clarity. I need her to say it.

I can feel the evidence in every inch of this new body. But I need her to say it.

Florence’s expression settles into something calm and confident, just like she always is. “You’re the first of your kind, Lana. A Made vampire.”

Maybe I should feel anger. Fear. Doubt.

I didn’t make this choice. I never said yes. And now I’m something entirely different.

Instead, I feel… invincible.

I look down at my hands, flexing my fingers. I swear, there’s power humming through my veins. My entire body feels as if it’s buzzing with energy, like something coiled and ready to release.

A Made vampire.

Holy shit.

“How do you feel?” Florence asks again.

I glance around the lab like it holds the answer to her question. The damage is horrific. The metal table I was lying on is bent; there are blood-streaked surfaces, the remnants of my shattered body still littering the floor. I realize then that the lab smells like death. My own death.

But my eyes slide closed, and I focus my attention inward.

This feeling. Oh, this feeling…

“I feel…” I run my tongue over my teeth again. It’s so strange that even my teeth are different. My canines are sharper, more elongated. Not as dramatic as Ares’, but certainly not what they were before. And they aren’t retracting—yet another thing that is different from the Born.

A slow, wicked smile pulls at my lips. “Amazing.”

Clementine relaxes, just slightly, as if a little convinced that I’m not going to attack the love of her life. Her eyes still blaze brilliant yellow, though.

Florence lets out a breath. It isn’t quite relief, but not exactly fear, either.

Movement across the space catches my eye, and I note the massive mirror across from me. Neither Clementine nor Florence stops me as I cross to it.

The reflection that stares back is mine—but not.

I tilt my head, studying myself. My hair is the same. My skin has the same golden undertone—but it’s flawless, smooth. The little scar that used to be above my left eyebrow is gone. I glance down at my hands and realize every single scar that used to be there is gone as well.

Regeneration. The basis for Florence’s madwoman concoction.

I look back up at my reflection. My lips are still full, but when I part them, sharper, more pointed canines greet me. My teeth generally look different, and I realize they literally are. I lost all of them in the transformation process. These new teeth are all sharper, more deadly.

But as I look over myself, I can’t see any other new physical differences. I imagine tearing through evil flesh, picture drinking blood, anything. But my eyes don’t flare red or yellow like the Born or the Bitten. They’re still my own natural shade of mahogany.

“You’re still you, Lana,” Clementine says. There’s such compassion in her voice. “Just… upgraded.”

It almost feels ludicrous for her to say that when I feel like this. When I feel so raw and primal and perfect. But as I look into my eyes in the mirror, I search for her. Lana Kincade. Vengeance.

And there, I see her.

I am still in there.

I drag my gaze back to Florence. “Where is everyone? This place wasn’t so dead when you gave me the tour.”

“Thankfully, everyone had already gone home for the day,” she answers, her gaze darkening slightly. “I’ve given everyone a mandatory day off tomorrow, just to be safe.”

“Wait, it’s still Monday?” I gape, shaking my head as I blink hard. “How… how long was I out?”

Florence folds her arms and steps out from behind Clementine, apparently assured I’m not going to attack her and try to drain her of blood. “Two hours.”

I blink again. My body has completely rebuilt, like every inch of me has been burned away and reformed into something wildly superior. I was human. I died. And in two hours , I became something else entirely.

Two hours to rewrite my future.

Two hours to become… this.

“That sounds fucking impossible,” I say honestly.

That familiar smirk forms on Florence’s lips. “Told you I was making a better vampire. No more lifetime to grow a Born and a four damn day long Resurrection process. Two hours, Lana.”

The woman standing before me has always amazed me. That doesn’t change now. But I realize the power she holds, the wild things she’s capable of.

All she needed was two hours to make me into the first of my kind, a Made vampire.

“How in control do you feel?” Florence asks as she takes just one step toward me. There isn’t a trace of fear left in her eyes.

I straighten, standing a little taller. I scan myself internally, searching for any feral urges, any desire to grab her and drain her blood. There is no rage, no cloud of confusion. I feel grounded. Aware. Ready.

I lift my chin. “Completely.”

That smirk pulls on her mouth again. “Good.” She steps closer. “Now, we have to figure out how to save Ares from himself.”

My stomach knots as it all comes rushing back to me. Ares’ odd behavior. His losing periods of time. And the revelation that he’s been killing New York City’s vampires without even realizing what he’s doing.

Fuck.

That is the man I love. The man I love killed Felix. Beth. Mike. Tom. And Giovanni’s son—the man who has lost himself to some monster within his own mind.

I let out a slow breath.

My mind is clearer than it’s ever been. My body is a weapon now, far beyond what it’s ever been capable of. And if Ares needs saving…

I will tear the world apart to bring him back.