Vincent pov

As I walk down the long hallway and near the cell of the woman we both feared and despised for years, I can't help but hate the gift of heightened senses.

The stench of rotting blood and flesh assaults my nostrils like a wave of bad memories. I notice the metal bar of her cell doors and pause to take a deep breath. She's there, probably waiting for me to come. Or begging her own Gods to keep my kind away from her. I wouldn't be surprised, especially after all those things I did to her.

My legs carry me to her. My instincts beg me to run...