The rain hammered against the cobblestone streets as I pulled the collar of my coat higher around my neck. The storm had swallowed the city whole, turning the world into a blur of silver rain and flickering lantern light. Most sensible people were indoors. Unfortunately for me, I wasn’t most people. I stared at the crooked little building across the street. A faded wooden sign swung violently above the entrance, squealing every time the wind caught it. The Pet Emporium. Ridiculous. For one thousand three hundred and seventy-nine years, I’d managed perfectly fine without a pet. I’d survived wars, betrayals, bloodshed, and my father’s endless disappointment. Yet somehow, according to him, what I truly needed was a human. “Every Original should have one,” he’d said. As if humans were accessories. Thunder cracked overhead. I sighed and stepped forward. The moment I opened the door, the smell hit me. Damp wood. Dust. Fear. Human. My nose wrinkled. Rows of cages lined the walls. Some empty. Some occupied. Pale faces peered through iron bars, their eyes dull with hopelessness. Others avoided looking at me entirely. I felt nothing. Or at least, I usually didn’t. Then my gaze landed on a cage tucked near the back of the shop. A girl sat curled against the wall, thinner than she should have been, her clothes hanging loosely from her frame. Unlike the others, she wasn’t begging for attention. Wasn’t crying. Wasn’t trying to make herself look appealing. She simply stared out the small window beside her cage, watching the storm. For some reason, I couldn’t look away. And for the first time since walking inside, I found myself wondering why.

The storm always made the humans quieter. Maybe it reminded them how trapped they were. I leaned against the counter and watched the rain slide down the front windows. Business had been slow lately. Too many vampires preferred hunting for themselves rather than buying a pet. Idiots. Hunting took effort. A pet stayed where you put it. Usually. My gaze drifted toward the back corner of the shop. Toward her. Eight years. Eight damn years she’d been sitting in my store. Most humans didn’t last half that long. The weak ones died. The troublesome ones disappeared. The ugly ones never sold. But that girl? There was something about her. Customers always stopped to look. Some lingered. Some even asked questions. Yet nobody ever bought her. I clicked my tongue. End of the week. That was the deal I’d made. If nobody adopted her by then, she’d finally be put down like the rest. A waste, really. The bell above the door suddenly jingled. I glanced up. The moment I saw who stepped inside, I straightened immediately. Tall. Dark hair. Cold eyes. One of the Originals. Not just any Original. Rowan Nyx-Cypress. Well. Looks like business might finally be improving.