Eva barely slept that night. Her mind churned with questions, doubts, and the overwhelming sense that she was standing on the edge of a truth too big to comprehend. When she finally dragged herself out of bed, the sun had barely risen, casting a pale glow through her curtains.
She found Leonard exactly where she left him—in her living room, casually lounging on the couch as if he owned the place. The TV was on, but he wasn't watching. Instead, his crimson eyes flicked to her the moment she entered.
Eva crossed her arms, her frustration from last night still bubbling under the surface. "You're still here."
Leonard smirked. "You sound surprised."
She narrowed her eyes. "I was hoping you'd disappear before I woke up."
"Disappointed?"
She scoffed. "Annoyed."
Leonard shrugged, completely unbothered. "You'll get used to me."
Eva exhaled sharply and sank into the armchair across from him. She needed answers, and she wasn't going to let him dodge her questions again.
"Who am I?" she asked bluntly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.
Leonard cocked his head. "Eva Sinclair."
She gritted her teeth. "Don't play games with me, Leonard."
His expression remained unreadable. "I'm not."
Eva let out a humorless laugh. "Really? Because according to that witch, I might not be 'just Eva Sinclair.'"
Leonard sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if she were exhausting him. "It's complicated."
"Then simplify it," she shot back. "Was she lying?"
Silence.
Eva clenched her fists. "Why won't you just tell me the truth?"
Leonard leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Because the truth won't change anything. And once you know it, you can't un-know it."
Eva's stomach twisted at his words. The way he said them, like a warning, like knowing would somehow ruin her. But she wasn't a child who needed protecting.
"I deserve to know," she said, quieter this time.
Leonard's gaze softened, but only slightly. "Not yet."
Her jaw tightened. "So you admit there is something to know."
He didn't deny it. That was all the confirmation she needed.
Eva ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. "Is it about the fact that I woke you up? Because from what I understand, humans can't wake vampires."
Leonard's lips twitched, barely a flicker of emotion. "Correct."
Her chest tightened. "So what does that make me?"
He leaned back, studying her, as if deciding how much he should say. "A mystery."
Eva groaned. "You are the most infuriating person I've ever met."
Leonard only smirked. "You'll get used to me."
She scowled at him, but deep down, she felt a ripple of unease. If humans couldn't wake vampires, then what did that make her? The alternative explanations ran through her mind—none of them comforting.
Was she something… more?
Or worse, was she something else entirely?
Eva shook her head. No. That was ridiculous. She was just Eva Sinclair. A regular woman with a regular life. A life that, until Leonard crashed into it, made perfect sense.
But then there was the way Ambrosia had looked at her. The knowing in her eyes. And the way Leonard refused to give her a straight answer.
She wasn't sure she wanted to know the truth anymore. But at the same time, she was terrified of not knowing.
She met Leonard's gaze again. "Will you ever tell me?"
His expression was unreadable. "When you're ready."
Eva scoffed. "And how will you know when that is?"
Leonard's smirk returned. "I always know."
Frustrated, Eva pushed herself to her feet. She needed space, fresh air—something to clear her head. "I'm going out."
Leonard didn't stop her. He only watched, the ghost of something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
As Eva stepped outside, she felt the weight of something pressing down on her. A feeling she couldn't shake.
A feeling that she wasn't just Eva Sinclair anymore.
Maybe she never was.