Gilbert paced inside the grand hall of the Mondec Empire's headquarters, his mind clouded with thoughts. The recent killings had thrown the city into chaos, and now, his own son was being accused. He clenched his fists. Toff couldn't be responsible. He knew it in his bones.
A heavy silence filled the hall as the council gathered. Lord Vlad sat at the head of the long, dark table, his fingers lazily tapping against the wood. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in the air was suffocating.
"Gilbert," Lord Vlad finally spoke, his voice smooth yet commanding. "Your judgment has been clouded. This is your last chance to prove your loyalty."
Gilbert's jaw tightened. "What are you suggesting?"
Lord Vlad leaned forward slightly, his crimson eyes glinting. "You have failed us. You kept secrets from this council. And now, because of your negligence, we have a traitor in our midst."
Gilbert's breath hitched. His mind raced. They were accusing him—of letting Toff escape. Of betraying the empire.
Murmurs filled the room. Other high-ranking members of the Mondec Empire nodded in agreement. Then, one of them stood. "I second the motion to remove Gilbert from his position."
Gilbert felt a weight settle in his chest. They were turning against him. But before he could protest, a guard entered the chamber, bowing deeply.
"My Lord, we have captured the boy."
Gilbert's heart stopped.
Outside the grand hall, officers of the Mondec Empire gathered in the corridor, their voices rising in heated debate.
"Gilbert has always been loyal," one officer argued. "He has led countless battles for the empire. He wouldn't betray us now."
"Then why did he let his son escape the first time?" another officer countered. "He hesitated when he had the chance to capture him. Hesitation is as good as treason."
"What if he's being set up?" a third voice interjected. "Lord Vlad has never liked Gilbert. This could be a way to remove him from power."
The group fell silent at the statement. They all knew Vlad was ruthless—his ambition knew no bounds. But accusing the council leader of orchestrating a scheme against one of their own was dangerous.
"Regardless," another officer said in a low voice, "Gilbert's fate will be decided soon. If he sides with the boy, then he has made his choice."
Toff stirred awake, groggy and disoriented. The air was thick with the scent of blood and damp stone. Chains clinked as he tried to move. His wrists and ankles were bound with iron cuffs, the metal burning against his skin. He gritted his teeth.
"Where… am I?" he rasped.
A familiar voice cut through the darkness. "You're in the dungeons of the Mondec Empire."
Toff turned his head, his breath catching. Bret stood behind the iron bars, his expression grim.
"They think you did it," Bret said. "They think you killed those people."
Toff swallowed hard. "I didn't. You know I didn't."
Bret's eyes flickered with emotion. "I know, but they don't care about the truth. They only care about keeping their power."
Heavy footsteps echoed through the stone corridors. A tall figure approached the cell, his long coat sweeping against the floor. Toff's breath hitched when he saw his father step into the dim light.
"Dad?"
Gilbert's face was unreadable, his eyes dark with something indecipherable. "You shouldn't have been born like this, Toff."
Toff's body tensed. "Like what?"
Gilbert sighed. "You're a threat to both sides."
The door behind Gilbert creaked open. Lord Vlad entered the room, his presence suffocating. He walked leisurely, his piercing gaze locked onto Toff.
"You have a choice, Gilbert," Vlad said, smirking. "Prove your loyalty to us. Eliminate the boy yourself."
Toff's stomach dropped. "What?"
Gilbert's fists clenched, his fangs slightly visible beneath his lips. His son—his own flesh and blood—was being handed to him as a test.
Vlad stepped closer to Gilbert and whispered, "Show us where your loyalty lies."
The room went deathly silent.
Gilbert took a slow step forward, his eyes never leaving his son's. Toff's heart pounded as his father raised a hand—
And then, in a flash, Gilbert turned. His fangs sank into the leg of one of the guards, tearing through flesh. The man screamed in agony as blood gushed onto the cold stone floor.
Chaos erupted.
Vlad didn't move, watching calmly as the room turned into a battlefield. Guards rushed forward, trying to restrain Gilbert, but he moved with deadly precision, snapping bones and ripping throats.
Toff struggled against his chains, desperation clawing at his chest. He couldn't just watch. He couldn't let this happen.
Then, through the chaos, he locked eyes with Vlad. The vampire lord was still watching—silent, amused. As if he had planned all of this.
Toff's blood turned cold.
A loud howl echoed from the corridor. The scent of damp fur and blood filled the air. The werewolves had arrived. Snarling beasts burst into the dungeon, their claws raking through vampires like paper. The battle intensified, fangs clashing against claws, bodies crashing against the stone walls.
Bret was suddenly at Toff's side, gripping the iron bars, his breath uneven. "We have to get you out," he said, voice low, intense. His fingers lingered just a second too long against Toff's wrist as he examined the bindings.
Toff swallowed. "You're—uh—really close."
Bret smirked, his lips just inches from Toff's ear. "Oh? Am I distracting you?"
Before Toff could respond, Alexa appeared, her silver eyes glowing with both urgency and amusement. "Not now, boys," she said, tossing a dagger to Bret. "Unless you'd rather die tied up—which, knowing you, Toff, might not be the worst way to go."
Toff gaped at her. "This is hardly the time for—"
Alexa leaned in, tracing a cold finger down his cheek. "We make time."
Toff's brain short-circuited. Was it the blood loss? The adrenaline? Or was Alexa's breath deliberately warm against his skin?
Bret sighed, rolling his eyes as he slashed through the last bits of iron. "Don't mind her. She flirts with anything that breathes."
Alexa arched a brow. "Oh, darling, you're hardly an exception."
Toff had no idea what to do with that information, especially when Alexa shot him a sly wink before turning toward the hallway, muttering an incantation. A shimmering barrier flared to life, sealing off any reinforcements.
Before Toff could recover, a powerful force slammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs. He hit the wall with a grunt, and when he looked up, Lord Vlad was looming over him, lips curled in something close to amusement.
"This is getting tiresome," Vlad murmured, his fangs grazing just above Toff's throat. "But I must admit, watching you struggle is quite… entertaining."
Toff groaned. "Why is everyone in this room either trying to kill me or seduce me?"
Alexa and Bret answered in unison. "Why not both?"
Toff was about to protest when a deafening roar shook the dungeon. The walls cracked, the ceiling split open, and an ominous glow poured through.
Glowing eyes, ancient and vast, bore down on them. A monstrous, shadowy figure loomed above, its voice a rumbling blend of stone grinding and whispered nightmares.
"The boy belongs to me."
Vlad's eyes widened, something flickering across his face—fear. "No… it can't be."
Another earth-shaking roar erupted, sending waves of dark energy through the chamber.
Toff barely had time to think before darkness swallowed everything.
Steam curled into the air, thick and scented with rare oils. The grand bathtub, carved from obsidian and filled with crimson-tinged water, sat in the center of Vlad's private chamber. He leaned against the edge, his arms resting along the sides, eyes closed in thought.
Toff had slipped through his fingers. Again.
His jaw tightened, irritation flickering in his crimson eyes. He hated unfinished games, and this one was far from over. He would have Toff. It was only a matter of time.
A soft ripple in the water pulled him from his thoughts.
Vlad's gaze flicked open as a figure entered the tub—uninvited. A man, his skin bronzed and glistening from the heat, his long, dark hair slicked back. The candlelight cast shadows along the ridges of his lean, muscled frame as he lowered himself into the water, his movements slow, deliberate.
The intruder smirked, settling across from Vlad, their knees nearly touching. "You looked troubled, my Lord."
Vlad's lips curled slightly, his fingers tapping idly against the stone rim. "And you look far too comfortable for someone who was not summoned."
The man let out a soft chuckle, tilting his head. "Perhaps because I bring something more valuable than permission."
Vlad didn't react immediately. He merely watched, amused yet cautious, as the man trailed a hand through the water, his fingers brushing dangerously close to Vlad's thigh. A game, then. A dangerous one.
"What exactly do you bring me?" Vlad mused.
The man leaned in slightly, voice low and laced with something unreadable. "The truth."
Vlad arched a brow. "Elaborate."
A pause. Then, the man exhaled slowly, his smirk fading just enough for his next words to land with weight.
"I'm a spy." He met Vlad's gaze with unwavering confidence. "For the Dark Moon Society."
Silence settled between them.
Vlad stared at him, the amusement in his features shifting into something colder, sharper. His fingers twitched, itching to snap the man's neck on instinct—but he didn't. Instead, he tilted his head, his smirk returning, darker this time.
"A werewolf," Vlad murmured. "In my bath."
The man grinned. "Naked, too."
Vlad chuckled, low and dangerous. "You're either very brave… or very stupid."
"Or," the werewolf whispered, moving just a fraction closer, "I know something you desperately want."
Vlad's eyes gleamed, hunger and intrigue intertwining. "Then you'd better make it worth my while."
The werewolf smirked again, leaning against the bath's edge. "Oh, I intend to."
Outside, the storm raged on. Inside, a new game had just begun.