I opened my eyes, groaning like the undead as I struggled to rise. Halfway up, I caught sight of my reflection in a cracked mirror. The bullet wound—a clean entry and exit at the front of my head—stared back at me. Blood dripped from my mouth, pooling below. Using a nearby chair for support, I tried to stand, only to slip and crash back to the ground.

  Then, a strange scent hit me—faint, but unmistakable. Miri plant.

  The same scent I had detected on Jacob’s hand—or rather, Jamey’s hand. It was also on the key we found at Mire’s apartment. According to Leo, the fake Mire didn’t have any Miri plant. But this one did.

  "Ugh…" A sticky note was stuck to the mirror. It read, I'll end where everything ended.

  We’d been wrong.

  The woman we believed was fake Mire… she was the real one. The blonde was the imposter. The RV picture had always seemed a little off—now I knew why. It was photoshopped. And the video on the laptop? I’d noticed a glitch just before Jacob showed the photo. That video wasn’t original; it had been edited and replayed. She also had scratch marks on her neck, which we initially mistook for signs of torture. But they weren’t. The attacker had deliberately ripped off the victim’s nails to erase any traces of DNA—her DNA.

  I reached into my coat pocket and retrieved a small metallic flask. Popping the cork, I gulped its contents—blood. The surge of vitality hit instantly, my strength returning and my mind sharpening with a clarity I hadn’t felt in days.

  “Agh…”

  I finally stood, shaking off the haze, and rushed outside.

  There he was. Jacob. He was trying to open the door of my car, but he needed my fingerprint. His eyes widened as he saw me. Panicking, he attempted to open the door one more time, only to fail again. Then, he grabbed his pistol from his side.

  But I was faster.

  In a blur of motion, I was there, gripping his throat before he could react. I tried to calm down—but it was too late. I had tasted the blood, and control was slipping away, as it often did for a royal vampire.

  “You…” he gasped, his voice choked. “How—”

  “Have…” I snarled, my voice strained as I fought to calm myself. “Have a drink, Melissa.”

  “What the fuck are you saying!”

  “I always… liked. You.” I muttered. “I wish it was me… they branded.”

  “Fuck you and fuck Meliss—”

  I squeezed harder, and his throat collapsed with a sickening crunch. His lifeless body slumped against the car before hitting the ground.

  The red in my eyes began to fade as I stood over him, breathing heavily. There would be no tears for him. Not now. Not ever. Bastard deserved everything coming to him. He was going to get shanked in the prison, either way. I’d just cut the middle-man.

  I crouched, retrieved my phone from his pocket, and got into the car. As I started the engine, I called Jane, putting the phone on speaker.

  “C—”

  “Jane!” I shouted, slamming the gas. “The blonde one is fake! The real Mire was the one we thought was fake. Don’t let the blonde escape!”

  “What?”

  “I talked to Jacob,” I said, my voice frantic. “I… I killed him. He had me at gunpoint, I—”

  “What? How?” Jane asked, her voice sharp.

  “I’ll explain later,” I snapped. “Call the station. Tell them the blonde is the real murderer!”

  “O-okay,” she said quickly. “I’ll let Helion know.”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Good,” I said. “I’ll search the city for her. You and the others do the same.”

  “Got it. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “See you.”

  I narrowed my eyes as I wiped the blood from my face. Where could she have gone? The gears in my brain weren’t exactly working right—I'd just been shot, after all. But as the cold air from the open windows hit me, I slammed on the brakes and came to a screeching halt. The motorcycle behind me shot me the finger as it roared past.

  I remembered the sticky note I’d seen on the mirror: I’ll end where everything ended. I knew where her next move was... I knew exactly where she was headed.

  —

  Just as I thought, I found her. It was the only place she could be.

  The rain drizzled steadily as I parked and stepped out. West Antapolis was a neon blur of chaos and decay. The city mocked us with its twisted rules and endless cruelty. We were all playing a rigged game, and the house always won.

  She stood at the edge of a dark alley, staring at the spot where Jacob—or Robert’s son—had hung. Her blonde hair clung to her tear-streaked face, glistening in the rain. For a moment, she looked human. Broken.

  “You’re under arrest,” I said, walking toward her with my gun in hand. “Turn around. Hands up.”

  “I saw you kill him,” she said, her back still turned. “On the cameras.”

  “You should be happy,” I replied, my voice steady.

  “I am,” she said. “Content... alive.”

  "Were you the one who attacked us?" I said. "Near that roundabout?"

  "No," she replied. "He was a wraith, drawn by the scent of blood. He wasn’t part of my plan."

  “Okay… so, why did you kill Jacob?” I asked. “They were stealing organs from kids. Were you one of them?”

  She tilted her head upward, letting the rain run down her face. “No. But my brother was.”

  “I’m… sorry for your loss.”

  “They didn’t take his organs,” she said. “But he was still a victim. My brother had heart issues.”

  “Then... what happened?”

  She finally turned to face me. Her eyes were red, her lips trembling. “They did far worse than stealing his organs.”

  “You can tell me,” I said softly, lowering my gun.

  “They...” she began, biting her lip to hold back tears. “They were going to operate on my brother. But the tests showed he wasn’t good for the table. That didn’t stop them. They had to take something from him. They were monsters.”

  “What did they take?”

  She took a step closer, her voice cracking. “One day, those three barged into our room.” Her voice wavered, her tears mixing with the rain. “One of them pinned me down while the others beat him. I told them he was weak, that he was sick, but they didn’t listen.”

  Her pain felt familiar. Too familiar. She had been forced to watch the only good person in her life get torn away.

  “They went further. They cut him up for… fun.” she said, trembling. Her hands gripped my shoulders as she demonstrated, pulling me back and forth continuously. “The blade went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth,” She gripped my shoulders harder as she pushed me back and forth. “Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth back forth, back forth… until he died. Looking into my eyes. I swear... I saw the light in his eyes go out.”

  She stepped back, walking toward the dark alley where her victim had hung. Her blonde hair, soaked and wild, obscured her face. Her voice cracked as she spoke.

  “West Antapolis,” she said with a bitter smile, her eyes meeting mine. “The city of lost souls and losers... and I think I fit the description, don’t I?”

  Before I could respond, she drew a gun from her side and pressed it against her temple. It had a silver bullet in it. I could smell it.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I said, stepping forward cautiously.

  “This city is a nightmare,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain. “I just want to wake up. I just want to see my brother again.”

  “You don’t—”

  The gunshot echoed through the alley.

  Her body collapsed to the pavement, blood pooling and mixing with the rain. My knees buckled, and I dropped to the ground. I sat there, staring at the lifeless body of a woman whose real name I would never know. Despite everything, I understood her. I understood her pain.

  For two long minutes, I stood frozen, the rain pouring down relentlessly. She was already dead before she ever pulled the trigger, her tale sealed in silence. There was no more hiding, no more pretending. She had no masks to wear, no lies to tell. All that was left was the raw, unfiltered truth, and it spoke louder than anything the living could ever say. It wasn’t the best tale, but it was the most honest. The kind of tale that was easy to understand because it came without the clutter of deceit or illusions.

  This city’s evil would never end. West Antapolis wasn’t just a nightmare. It was far worse. It was reality.

  Nothing was going forward. Loop. The city was looping. And so was I.

  With a sigh, I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and placed it between my lips.

  Then,

  I lit my cigarette. Again, another victim. Another lost soul.