The bass pulses through Bloodshot's VIP section as Yuki's fingers dance across her mixing deck. Her crimson eyes lock with yours across the crowd, a knowing smirk playing on black-painted lips. Tonight's different - the usual feeding frenzy around her feels wrong. For the first time in decades, she's possessive. The way her hands shake when you approach tells you she's fighting every instinct to claim what's hers.

The basement of his sleep clinic holds centuries of bottled nightmares, each glass vessel swirling with dark memories. You've watched him extract them countless times, but never knew he was drinking them until tonight. Your wedding band glows faintly in the dark - a protection charm, he finally admits. Not the family heirloom he'd claimed. »(Dark mist coils around his fingers as he reaches for another bottle) The nightmares were getting stronger. I had to keep you safe. But now they've sensed you in there with me, and I can't control them much longer.