Ryan's POV
As Frank and I finished our planning, night had draped itself over the streets of Bellingham, the town's lights casting a faint glow against the starless sky. We set out for our first target—a teenager just starting high school, a kid who faded into the background of his peers' lives. He was weak, relentlessly bullied by his classmates, and aching for power and popularity. An easy mark. His name was Tyler, and we'd drag his friend into this too, weaving the same enticing promises.
We pulled up to Tyler's house, a modest two-story structure with chipped paint and an overgrown lawn that spoke of neglect. The street lay hushed, the distant hum of traffic a soft undercurrent to the stillness. I knocked on the door, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet night. Tyler's mother opened it, her eyes widening slightly as she registered our unexpected presence. She was a weary woman, her face lined with exhaustion, her hair pulled into a haphazard bun.
"Take us to your son's room," I said, my voice steady and commanding as I met her gaze. Her expression slackened, compulsion taking hold, and she nodded blankly, leading us up the creaky stairs without protest.
Tyler was in his room, hunched over a desk littered with textbooks, crumpled papers, and scattered pencils. Posters of superheroes and rock bands plastered the walls, a silent cry for escape and strength. He jolted upright as we entered, his eyes flicking between us in alarm. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice quivering but edged with defiance.
"I'm Ryan. This is Frank," I said, stepping closer, my tone smooth and reassuring. "We're here to offer you power—strength, popularity, a way to stop being shoved around. All we need is a small favor in return."
His eyes sparked with hope, then narrowed with doubt. "What favor?"
"Nothing you can't handle," I replied, my words gliding effortlessly. "You just need to fight someone for us. Trust me, you'll see the payoff."
Tyler crossed his arms, skepticism carving lines into his young face. "Yeah, right. Prove it. Show me this 'power' you're talking about."
Frank, who'd been silent, stepped forward. With a casual flick of his wrist, he gripped the edge of Tyler's heavy oak dresser—a hulking piece of furniture that should've taken two men to budge—and lifted it off the ground with one hand. The wood creaked in protest, but Frank's face stayed impassive, almost bored, as he held it aloft like it weighed no more than a sheet of paper.
Tyler's jaw dropped, his breath snagging in his throat. "H-how…?" he stammered, his voice a faint whisper. His wide eyes locked on the dresser, awe and disbelief battling across his features.
I smiled, letting the predatory edge show. "Convinced yet?"
Tyler's defiance melted away, replaced by a slow, mesmerized nod. He was hooked.
"Good," I said. "Now, call your friend. Tell him to come over—it's important."
Tyler fumbled for his phone, his hands trembling slightly as he dialed. "Hey, Alex, can you come over? It's important." He hung up, glancing at me for approval. I nodded and closed the distance between us, looming over him.
"Your hand," I demanded. He extended it, his pulse throbbing visibly beneath his skin. I bit his wrist swiftly, the warm rush of blood hitting my tongue, a fleeting euphoria surging through me. I pulled myself from the trance, focusing instead on the venom deep within me. I willed it through my fangs, injecting it into Tyler's bloodstream. He gasped, his eyes rolling back as he crumpled to the floor, his body wracked with violent convulsions.
I turned to Frank, giving him a sharp nod. He slipped out of the room and returned minutes later, cradling two blood bags in his arms. We sat in silence, the only sound Tyler's ragged breathing as his body battled the transformation. After several tense minutes, the spasms stopped. Tyler stirred, his eyes fluttering open—blood-red and ravenous. His face was pale, his features sharper, almost feral.
I handed him a blood bag. "Drink this to complete the transition, or you'll die of hunger."
He eyed it cautiously, his newly heightened senses catching the scent. I tore the top open, and the rich, coppery aroma flooded the room. Tyler's nostrils flared, and he moved with inhuman speed, snatching the bag from my hand and gulping it down greedily, like he hadn't eaten in days. When he finished, a shadow of guilt flickered in his eyes, though it faded fast beneath the pull of his hunger.
"So, where's the strength you promised?" he rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He hadn't clocked the speed he'd just used.
I smirked. "It's already there. You moved faster than any human to grab that bag. After a night's rest, your body will adjust—evolve. You'll have strength and senses beyond anything normal."
A knock echoed from downstairs. Alex had arrived. Frank slipped out again, returning with the taller, more guarded teenager in tow. Alex's eyes swept the room, lingering on Frank's towering frame and Tyler's pale, altered face. "What's this about?" he asked, his voice thick with suspicion.
"An offer," I said, extending a hand. "Power, like we gave Tyler. There's a favor involved, but it's worth it."
Alex frowned, arms crossing tightly. "Sounds sketchy. What's the catch?"
"No catch you can't handle—just fighting someone," I said, my tone smooth and coaxing. "Imagine never being weak again. Tyler's in—join him."
Alex glanced at Tyler, who nodded eagerly, though a trace of caution lingered in his gaze. "If you have this so-called power, why do you need us to fight someone?"
Smart kid, I thought, irritation prickling. Unlike Tyler, Alex wasn't dazzled by promises—he was dissecting them. I stepped closer, my eyes flaring crimson as I locked his gaze. "You want power, right? This is your chance. Agree, and you'll have strength beyond a normal human."
His resistance dissolved, compulsion taking root. "Fine," he said flatly. "I'll accept the power."
I took his hand and bit, venom flowing as it had with Tyler. Alex collapsed, convulsing, and we waited. When he awoke, his eyes glowed red, and I handed him the second blood bag. He drank without hesitation, no guilt in his expression—just cold acceptance.
With Tyler willing and Alex under my control, I turned to Tyler and pressed a slip of paper into his hand—the warehouse address. "Come here tomorrow with Alex. Skip school—this favor can't wait."
Tyler nodded, studying the paper, while Alex stood motionless, bound by my will. Frank and I left them there, the night swallowing us as we headed back into the shadows, the warehouse looming in our future