In a dimly lit room, illuminated by a flickering ceiling light bulb that seemed on the brink of failure, a man with a bag over his head endured the merciless hold of two menacing individuals. They relentlessly submerged his head in a large bathtub filled with water, only to yank him out moments later for further interrogation.
The room bore the evidence of their struggle—water pooled on the floor, a result of both his resistance and the dampness of the bag. The man, shirtless and kneeling, bore numerous wounds adorning his chest. As they removed the bag from his head, he gasped for air, coughing in response.
The attention of both the captive and his tormentors was captured by the creaking sound of the metal door, announcing the arrival of their superior.
A figure dressed in a black overall entered the room, his coal-black eyes piercing the atmosphere. His dark, silky hair and pale complexion added to his striking, yet sinister appearance. His slightly pink lips gave him an air of both beauty and malevolence that could strike fear into anyone.
He was the one who wielded authority within those walls. The enigmatic figure known as Lord Damien commanded unwavering obedience, with his every word carrying the weight of law. None dared to defy him, and even his adversaries found themselves powerless before him.
With purpose, he approached the sole chair in the room and took a seat. His intense gaze fixed upon the solitary figure before him, the only person capable of granting him what he sought.
"You possess what I desire, do you not?" Lord Damien addressed the young man who knelt helplessly before him.
"Please, Lord Damien, I have no knowledge of what you seek. I am innocent," the young man pleaded, tears welling in his eyes as he looked to the one individual who held the power to set him free.
"Ignorant fool! I am the last person you should have turned to, for you will not leave here until you provide me with what I want... I can delve into your thoughts," Damien responded, shattering every shred of hope the young man had clung to. "Let us attempt this once more: where is the Blood Ring?"
"I possess no such ring," the young man cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks. Water continued to drip from his hair, adding to the tension in the room as he struggled to catch his breath.
The young man's response seemed to enrage his interrogator further, and the once impassive Lord Damien's lips curled into a mask of fury.
A gust of wind swept through the room, and before anyone could react, Damien stood before his prisoner, his hand clenched tightly around the young man's neck, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.
"Do not tempt me to snap your neck like a twig!" Damien roared, his eyes darkening further with unbridled hatred. The intensity of his gaze struck fear into the hearts of even his loyal henchmen.
The young man fought against the tightening grip, desperate for air. But the more he struggled, the more constricting Damien's hold became. As he began to lose consciousness, Damien abruptly released him, allowing him to collapse to the floor.
"Give me a reason to trust you," the young man implored, his gaze fixed on Damien's back as the boss turned away.
"You should trust me, for I have slaughtered countless individuals who failed to provide what I sought, drinking from their skulls," Damien replied, his eyes closed.
The young man gulped, his heart racing as he watched Damien turn back to face him. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he realized the imminent danger of Damien's crimson eyes.
"I will speak," he relented, breathing a sigh of relief as Damien's pupils returned to their obsidian hue. "I gave the blood ring to a human girl."
"You gave it to whom?" Despair washed over Damien, though he concealed it beneath a veneer of anger. "Who is she?" he asked, crouching to the young man's level, his intense gaze fixed upon him.
"Please, spare me if I reveal her identity," the young man pleaded, his sweat now streaming profusely.
"I won't kill you," Damien assured him.
"I do not know her, but her image remains vivid in my memory. I can describe her appearance to you," the young man offered, sensing a glimmer of hope. Damien grinned and snapped his fingers, prompting one of his henchmen to quickly retrieve a pencil and a piece of paper.
"Please, describe her," Damien instructed, holding the paper ready as he focused on the young man.
"She possesses brown eyes and long brown hair. Her face is oval-shaped, with a pointed nose adorned by freckles at its base," the man shared, pausing as Damien nodded in acknowledgment.
"Boss," the henchman interjected, approaching with the drawing in hand. Damien accepted it, his gaze fixed on the image.
He studied the picture before him—a depiction of a beautiful young woman. Even he, in that moment, felt something stir within him as he gazed upon her likeness.
"Hmm," Damien murmured, rising to his feet with the drawing still in his grasp. "Dear prisoner, do you believe in royalty?" he inquired, his eyes fixated on the image.
"Yes! I would never betray them," the prisoner cried out, his fear of Damien's potential connection to the royal bloodline fueling his response.
"Dispose of my prisoner; he no longer serves a purpose," Damien commanded without turning to look at the young man.
"What?! But you promised!" the prisoner pleaded in despair, desperately scanning the room for a savior who would never appear.
"Indeed, I promised not to kill you myself, but I never said they couldn't," Damien replied, his fist clenched tightly.
Without warning, the sound of gunshots reverberated through the room, followed by an eerie silence.
"Now, it is time to hunt our next quarry," Damien declared, a malevolent smile curling upon his lips as he stared at Avery's picture.
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It had been a week since the previous incident, and this time, Avery made a point to rush straight home to avoid any repeat encounters with rogue vampires. She was determined not to fall into another dangerous situation like before, where she had barely managed to survive.Avery was well aware that not all vampires could resist the overwhelming urge to satisfy their thirst for blood. The experience with the mercenaries had left her questioning her initial assumption that they were novices. Their controlled demeanor and restraint in the face of her bleeding had made her doubt their level of experience. They hadn't attempted to pierce her skin with their canines or quench their dried throats with fresh, warm blood.Having apologized to Jeffery for her behavior during their previous encounter, Avery was relieved that he understood the difficult situation she had faced. He graciously accepted her apology, and their relationship had regained a sense of understanding.That particular day, Av
Avery slowly raised her head, delicately moving the strands of hair away from her face. Her gaze locked directly onto the lady, who responded with a warm, friendly smile."Good, there's nothing to be scared of," the lady assured her, squinting her eyes before waving her away.Relieved, Avery sighed as she walked past the other customers and returned to the counter. She was grateful that they hadn't caused any trouble, although she doubted they had simply come to eat."What's happening over there?" Jeffrey asked suspiciously, giving her a questioning look. His gaze shifted back to the guests, but he quickly averted his eyes when he noticed the lady smirking at him."Nothing is going on," Avery reassured him with a forced smile, walking past him and into the kitchen after informing him about the drinks ordered by the guests.Carrying the new orders on a tray in her left hand, she made her way to the guests' table, attempting to maintain a smile. Her legs moved steadily as she approached
In a room, large and spacious with high ceilings that are adorned with intricate carvings and frescoes. The walls are lined with gold and silver accents, and large windows let in plenty of natural light, casting a warm glow throughout the space. One would be struck by its grandeur and opulence, as soon as they stepped in. Along the walls are elegant tapestries, depicting scenes of battles and triumphs, and tall candelabras that cast flickering shadows across the room. The floors are made of polished marble, gleaming in the light and reflecting the grandeur of the surroundings. This was the prince's room and only the royals in the palace had rooms, this big to themselves. In the center of the room sits a massive, King sized bed, adorned with a velvet cover. Prince Rohan sat on the bed, bare-chested. His eyes surveyed the room, as he had just woken up. Soon, a light knock came on the door and after he had granted access, it was pushed open and a servant walked in with a tray of food.
"What is it, Father?" he asked, turning to face his father, who gave him a displeased look.Lord Ericson entered the room and scanned it with his eyes. "Son of a bitch! Instead of finding the blood ring as we hoped, you choose to consort with the servants?!" he yelled."I will find it, Father.""You better, or else I'll throw you into the dungeon for wasting my time. I'm doing everything within my power to ensure you become king, and you should be doing the same," Lord Ericson said with a disapproving look, squinting at his son."I will, Father," the prince replied nonchalantly, averting his gaze from his father.Before he could react, his father forcefully grabbed his face and turned it towards him, staring directly into his eyes."Do. Not. Test. Me!" his father seethed, tightening his grip on his son's cheeks, causing grunts and bone cracks to fill the room.He released his hold, coldly watching as his son worked his jaw and sighed in relief.Rohan gave his father a cold, disdainful
Ding!The sound of a bell chimed as Avery pushed open the store's door and stepped inside. Her car was being refueled while she took the opportunity to grab some groceries from the adjacent store. She entered cautiously, scanning the surroundings for any potential threats. The sight of people bustling around with shopping carts brought her a momentary sense of relief, although her recent encounter at the coffee shop had left her perpetually on edge.Four days had passed since the incident, and although she should have felt relieved that her pursuers were no longer after her, it only heightened her need for constant vigilance. As she made her way to the dairy section, she picked up cartons of milk and loaves of bread, acutely aware that they were running low at home. The spoiled milk in the fridge was a ticking time bomb, as her father's day would be ruined without his beloved beverage.Avery nodded politely to the passersby, greeting some of them while receiving acknowledgments from a
It was pitch black, so dark that the body lying on the ground in the cramped room was barely visible. The figure, a female, stirred awake and was seized by panic as she struggled to see her surroundings in the darkness. With her hands groping the walls, she attempted to stand up, but the sharp pain shooting through her legs caused her to collapse. Avery winced as her legs gave way, realizing she had sprained her ankle. Just then, she heard the metallic sounds of gears and locks. For a fleeting moment, silence engulfed the room, followed by creaking noises, and suddenly, a bright light flooded the space. It was so intense that she had to shield her eyes until they adjusted. "The Boss wants you," a deep, husky voice declared, drawing her gaze in its direction. "F*** you!" Avery cursed, glaring defiantly at the stranger. "I won't budge from here unless you tell me where I am." The man entered the room, towering over her, and stared down. "I forgot to mention one thing—it's not a reque
It was a bright morning, with the sun just rising over the horizon. The palace courtyard was bustling with activity as gardeners tended to their plants and maids went about their duties. Guards stood in various positions around the palace, their stoic expressions resembling gargoyles frozen in place. A convoy of five cars drove in, stopping in front of the castle building in a line. The arrival of the cars hinted at the presence of someone of high status or power, possibly someone related to the royal family. Several men dressed in blue overalls emerged from the cars. While they appeared to be guards, their attire differed from that of the royal guards who wore black. Two of the guards approached the fourth car and opened the door. A girl with blonde hair stepped out, glaring at the guards. "What took you so long to open the door, you fools?!" she exclaimed, casting a disdainful gaze at each of them. "Sorry, Princess," one of the guards apologized, and they all bowed their heads, a
"Work!" A military guard bellowed, cracking his whip at a vampire who was bound in garlic-dipped chains, laboring to carry stones. The vampire grunted and stumbled, dropping the stone from his blood-soaked hands. His back bore fresh wounds and scars, a testament to the brutal treatment endured not only by him, but by the other imprisoned vampires who languished in this hellish place. Confined within a massive cage, spacious enough to accommodate the ninety vampires held captive, they were kept isolated from the rest of the world. Outside the cage, armed military guards patrolled diligently, with a watchtower standing just a mile away. These vampires had been captured and enslaved, subjected to backbreaking labor and some even forced into involuntary experimentation against their will. "Get up and pick that up," the guard ordered, delivering a brutal kick to the vampire's abdomen, causing him to cough up blood. Despite the bloodlust in the vampire's eyes, he was too weak and malnou