A cold dread turned his features ashen. I was his death, and he knew it.
Time slowed, distilled into a single moment as I surged forward. Faster than thought, my fist plunged into his chest, shattering bone and muscle, seeking the corrupt heart that had caused so much suffering.
“That's for my father,” I managed through gritted teeth.
His eyes betrayed a flicker of fear before my hand closed around the pulsing core of his existence.
With one final yank, I tore his heart free, the organ still defiantly beating in my grasp. Victor's body crumpled, and Bastian let him fall to the floor in a lifeless heap.
Blood dripped from my clenched fist, the thick, coppery scent filling the air as Victor's heart shuddered its last defiant beats against my palm.
It was over. I let out a breath and opened my hand. The heart fell with a grotesque wet thud echoing through the silence of the room as it hit the ground.
“It’s over,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.
It was like waking from a nightmare for the Vampires standing around us. They shook their heads, rubbing temples, blinking rapidly as if daylight had suddenly flooded a dark room.
Their previous demeanors melted away, leaving behind nothing but bewildered faces and dawning horror at what they'd become under his wicked command.
“Serina,” Nox murmured, relief and awe lacing his voice.
Bastian stood motionless, his eyes tracking the Vampires as they looked at one another, recognition and understanding passing between them without words.
“They're free,” Bastian said, not quite believing it himself.
Thorne kept his guard up, though his stance relaxed as the minutes passed and no new threats emerged. “We’re free,” he added, his gaze softening when it landed on me.
We spent hours in that warehouse, helping the confused Vampires clean up the remnants of Victor's tyranny. It felt surreal, watching enemies turn into allies with a simple flick of fate.
They were eager to help, to make amends, to live the lives that were stolen from them. A choice that was stolen from them.
“None of this should've happened,” a former goon—a man named Marcus—said, his eyes haunted yet hopeful. “We just want peace. A chance to be who we were before all this.”
I could see it then, their true selves shining through.
“I think we all deserve a do-over,” I suggested, my voice stronger than I felt.
A chance.
And as we worked side by side, clearing debris and tending to those who had been under his spell for so long, a peculiar sense of unity took root among all of us.
I had once thirsted for vengeance, but now I was finding solace in forgiveness and the promise of a future I never would have had.
I couldn't help but feel a twinge of gratitude.
Bastian, Thorne, and Nox—they had given me strength, love, and a reason to keep going when darkness threatened to swallow me whole.
“Thank you,” I told them, each word thick with emotion. “For everything.”
“No, love, thank you,” Bastian said, grabbing my hand as we began to clear out of the warehouse.
I was speechless. I was in awe of them, of us.
As we stepped out of the warehouse, I realized that in saving these lost souls, I too had been freed. The weight of the past, the chains of revenge, had been lifted.
And maybe, just maybe, this was what salvation felt like. Not just for me, but for all of us.
41
