“Do you know anything about John Velika’s death?” My voice was hard, demanding yet eerily calm.
The vampire stilled, calculating his slim chances against the weapon I wielded with such confidence. Fear mingled with the faint aroma of tobacco, creating a scent unique to these creatures when faced with the end of their immortality.
His laughter caught me off guard, a low, mocking sound that rasped against the chill of the night. “Oh, you must be his daughter...”
The vampire's eyes, a pale imitation of life, scrutinized my face as he gasped for breath, each one laced with pain from the stake I held pressed into his chest.
“Definitely his daughter,” he wheezed, the corners of his mouth lifting into a cruel smile. “Your eyes give you away. I thought you were dead.”
Anger flared within me, hot and unyielding. “What do you know? Tell me.” My words were a snarl, teeth clenched as I shoved the stake in just a fraction more, threatening to pierce his heart.
He growled, the sound animalistic and filled with spite. “Sorry, can't.” His voice was strained, defiance lacing through the agony.
I felt the pulse of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears, a reminder of the living fury that drove me. I would pry answers from him, even if I had to pull apart his undead soul, one splintered fucking fragment at a time.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” a voice drawled from the dark, as slick and cold as ice on pavement.
I snapped my head to the side, my gaze locking onto the silhouettes of three Vampires who'd emerged from the dimly lit pub. My heart skipped a beat, not from fear but rather the kind of weary irritation that came from one too many encounters with the same old enemy.
I was so tired of not getting the answers I wanted.
I hadn't even heard them approach. All my senses had been so zeroed in on the vampire pinned against the wall, on his taunts and his knowing smirk, that I'd let my guard down. Rookie mistake.
“You know,” I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline that was now sparking through my veins, “I'm getting really tired of you guys.”
With those words hanging in the air, I shoved the stake the rest of the way through the Vampire's heart. His eyes widened, a brief flicker of surprise, and then dimmed forever.
I yanked my stake free with a wet squelch, the finality of it resonating deep within me. Yet there was no time to savor the victory or to mourn another creature's passing. I spun on the balls of my feet, slipping into a fighting stance as naturally as breathing.
“Let's dance, pretty boy,” I murmured, half to myself, half to the predators circling me. The first Vampire lunged, and I met him head-on.
My body was a blur of motion, of instinct and training as I parried and struck. The taste of victory was bitter on my tongue. The Vampire came at me, all fangs and fury, but he was nothing more than a stump I needed to step over.
I took him out with a swift, calculated move that left him crumpling to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. I spun for the next one, but I was too slow.
Without warning, the cruel grip of cold fingers curled around my ankle, yanking me back into reality with a force that sent a shockwave up my leg. The world spun, and suddenly, I was airborne, thrown like a ragdoll against the unforgiving brick wall.
My head connected with a sickening crack, stars exploding in my vision before darkness tried to claim me.
“Serina!” Nox's voice was a distant echo in the fog that filled my mind. Blood trailed down from my brow, warm and slick against my skin.
When I blinked away the blackness, I saw him. Nox moved like a storm personified as he dispatched another of my attackers without so much as a falter in his stride. He was a force not to be reckoned with.
The last Vampire, cornered and desperate, snarled at Nox.
“Nox, what the hell—” His words were cut short by the brutality of Nox's hand plunging into his chest. With a motion both elegant and horrific, he tore out the Vampire's heart, silencing him forever.
I tried to push myself upright, the alleyway spinning, and then Nox’s hands were on me. His breaths came in heavy bursts, panic lacing each inhale as he looked upon me with eyes that held nothing but concern.
“Are you okay?” His voice was rough with emotion, the tremble betraying the cool exterior he always projected.
I should've felt relief, should've leaned into his strength, but trust was a fragile thing. Instead, I found my own hand lifting the stake with a shaky resolve to press against the solid wall of his chest.
“How did he know you?” The question was but a whisper, a plea for an explanation. My heart hammered against my ribs.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Serina. If I could tell you, I would,” he said, and I dug the stake in a little, drawing blood. “Are you going to kill me?” he murmured, meeting my gaze.
Palpable energy hung between us, thick and charged.
