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“Cute,” muttered the she-devil beside me.

Snapping my head towards her, and I rolled my eyes. Valentina smiled sweetly at my mother like she hadn’t just insulted her. Then she glanced up at me with a mischievous glint before turning back to Martha. Whatever she was planning, that look made my pulse pick up. Playful. Defiant. And definitely dangerous.

My mom didn’t notice any of it. She pulled Valentina into a hug, and Valentina wrapped her arms around Martha’s waist with absolutely no hesitation. “It’s so nice to meet you. Alex has been hiding me away,” she squealed sweetly into her ear.

Words failed me as her lies flowed so effortlessly out of her mouth that mine dropped open. Before I could defend my own damn honor, my mother chimed in.

“Why would you hide such a pretty girl from me? Are you ashamed of your girlfriend?” She tapped my arm playfully, like this was all some cute secret romance.

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “That’s not my girlfriend,” I snapped immediately. I wanted to kill this rumor before it grew legs and walked. But Valentina’s emotions slammed into me, hot, prickling irritation that clouded my chest like smoke.

And she started crying.

Actual tears. Real ones. She mumbled about me not caring, about how I embarrassed her, painting herself as some wounded princess.

Lies. All of it.

My mother gasped softly and wrapped an arm around her without hesitation, of course taking the side of the strange crying girl who ran me off the road today.

“I just met this girl!” I protested, hands flying up. “She’s crazy, Mom, I did nothing wrong! She hit me with her car!” My mom gave me that look, the one that told me to disappear before she made me disappear. It wasn’t unusual for her to defend a crying stranger; her mothering instinct was undefeated. She was a sucker for tears. One sniffle and she’d adopt a whole adult.

There was no winning this argument. Not right now.

So I obeyed and slunk into the living room.

It was better to let her talk. She’d eventually see how delusional this girl was being. I even tried to rationalize it, maybe Valentina was having some kind of breakdown. And honestly? She proved me right with every breath she took. The manipulation was insane. If this had been her idea of flirting, she had another thing coming. I wasn’t that easy, and now she had pissed me off.

A few minutes passed before they reentered the room. Valentina’s chest still heaved with practiced sobs. Her face was red, eyes swollen, putting on a show so dramatic it deserved an award. She was really committing to the bit. My mom’s face, however, was etched with pure disappointment, eyebrows drawn tight, mouth pressed into a deep line. All of that emotion aimed directly at me. Clearly, Valentina had spun some story, because my mom looked fully convinced.

I tried to breathe through the irritation crawling under my skin.

“You’ve been hiding her for three months?” my mom demanded. “She says she’s been begging to meet me. And when you finally do, you make her cry? What’s wrong with you, Alexander? I raised you better than this.”

“Mom, what in the hell are you talking about?” I snapped. “I met this girl an hour ago. In the library. She’s mad. She followed me up the mountainside and totaled my car! She’s lying to you.”

I stood up, shaking with frustration. I was not taking this, not from my mom, and definitely not from the psychopath smirking at me like she’d won a prize. I had no idea what she was playing at. And if she was trying to convince me I was a vampire, how exactly did pushing me to the brink of a breakdown help that?

“You can put up with whatever this is. I won’t!” I snapped, storming toward the door. I didn’t need this. Not tonight. I had a test to study for, and the only reason I was even here was because my mom said she needed me. The moment I passed them, Valentina lunged, her arm snaking around my mother’s neck, locking her in place.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted, stunned. For a heartbeat, I couldn’t move. Everything slowed, like my brain refused to process what I was seeing. My mother didn’t struggle. Her face was… calm. Like she was welcoming whatever was coming.

When my mind finally caught up, I launched myself toward them. Without practice, without guidance, a hiss rolled from the base of my throat, a threatening melody, heavy with warning. Valentina pulled my mother closer and flashed her fangs at me, answering with a hiss of her own. Her eyes blazed over my mother’s shoulder, every inch a challenge, almost daring me to try.

The only reason I hadn’t ripped my mother from her grasp was because of my mom herself. She lifted a hand, stopping me cold. Not physically, but her eyes pleaded with me. She wasn’t expecting this, but she was accepting it. Everything in me wanted to defy her, to do what I felt was right. But the way her gaze bore into mine, a silent plea left me shaken, confused, wondering if she knew more than she let on. I hated it.

But I stepped back, teeth grinding.

“It’s okay, honey,” she whispered, her voice quivering with fear. “It’s okay…” she said again, softer, like she was convincing herself more than me. My mother’s eyes flicked to Valentina, still afraid… but familiar. Like she’d been waiting on a name to match a warning.

“I’m proving we’re vampires, you idiot. And sparing you the heartbreak if this woman dies.” Valentina’s tone was disturbingly calm, like she was doing me a favor. And maybe she was. I didn’t want to lose my mother the way I’d lost Mark… but seeing her held like that made something feral claw inside me. Valentina released her hold and hauled my mother forward by one arm, effortless, like she weighed nothing.

My mom closed her eyes, whispering a soft prayer under her breath.

Then Valentina bit her own finger, puncturing skin with razor-sharp fangs that slid past her lips, elegant and deadly. Blood welled up instantly. It smelled like perfume, sweet, warm, like chocolate and brownie batter pulled straight from the oven.

Before I could blink, she leaned in and sank her fangs into my mother’s neck.

Her skin popped, loud, grotesque, like the casing of a sausage tearing open. Blood streamed down Valentina’s mouth, spilling across my mother’s white blouse in dark rivers. Just as fast as she bit, she pulled back and pressed her still-bleeding finger to the wound.