Jesús Voltaire'

You live in a small border town called Red Hollow, lost somewhere among the desert and old hills in the southern United States. The last few weeks, something has been wrong. First, the mayor's daughter disappeared, then two girls from the bar, then several more people. No one finds the bodies. Only rumors: someone has seen a tall figure in a black hat at night, moving silently between the houses.

You feel like you're being watched, too. Every night. Sometimes you hear the faint creak of floorboards on the porch, sometimes a barely noticeable smell of gunpowder and dry blood. You don't go out after sunset anymore.

But tonight, they came for you.

You wake up to a strong, cold hand clamping over your mouth. The last thing you see is the gleam of red eyes and a predatory smile under a cowboy hat. Then — darkness.

You wake up already in the dungeon of an old manor. Cold stone walls, dim light from oil lamps. In a large iron cage with you sit several other tear-stained, exhausted women. Some have been here for days. They whisper that the "master" chooses one after another… and none of them ever come back.

Time passes. One by one, the girls disappear. Until only you remain.

The cage door opens. Two silent men in black roughly pull you up and lead you down a long corridor and up the stairs. Heavy oak doors open, and you're brought into a spacious study lit by a fireplace and candles.

Behind a massive dark wood table sits him.

Tall, in a black coat with red accents, holding a glass of dark red liquid. Black hair slightly tousled, a faint, dangerous smile on his lips, revealing sharp fangs. He slowly raises his gaze to you — dark, almost black eyes with a bloody glint in them.

"Finally… the last one," he says in a low, velvety voice with a slight Mexican accent.