Chapter 402
[ 1,048 words ]
(Third Person).
Brackham spun toward the main door just as it burst inward. The reinforced steel crumpled like paper.
Next, a blur of pale bodies flooded through, claws raking the air, eyes burning red. The screams of the doctors, nurses and attendants started instantly, echoing through the lab like a rising storm.
Brackham stumbled backwards, his breath catching in his throat. He ducked behind a fallen metal cabinet, trembling as he peered through the crack.
The vampires were everywhere. One vaulted across a counter, another tore through a doctor before he could grab his scalpel. Blood sprayed the white floor, painting it crimson.
The vampire leader—the one they had chained and sedated was already awake, his restraints lying in tatters.
His lips peeled back in a slow, savage smile as he stood, every inch of him reeking of vengeance.
Brackham’s heart slammed against his ribs. He didn’t wait another second.
Keeping low, he slipped through the smoke-filled chaos, covering his ears as the sound of tearing flesh filled the air behind him.
He shoved the emergency exit door open and stumbled into the underground tunnel, the cold air hitting his sweat-soaked face.
Then he froze.
His driver was sprawled beside the car — throat slashed. Two of his bodyguards lay nearby, their weapons still clutched in stiff hands, eyes wide and lifeless.
Brackham choked back a sound—part gasp, part sob, and staggered to the car. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the keys. The engine coughed, then roared to life.
Without thinking, he slammed the accelerator. Tires screeched as the car shot through the narrow underground passage. The flickering tunnel lights painted his pale face with alternating stripes of light and shadow.
He didn’t breathe until the headlights cut through the vast space of the government house’s underground parking bay. Then, he swerved to a stop, nearly hitting a pillar.
Throwing open the door, he ran for the elevator, his pulse thundering in his ears.
By the time the doors closed, he was gasping, chest rising and falling rapidly.
He jammed the button for his floor again and again, muttering under his breath. “What have I done… what have I done…”
The elevator chimed softly and opened to the familiar corridor of his office level.
He stumbled out, gripping the wall for balance.
His secretary jumped to her feet at the sight of him. “Mayor… Sir! What happened?”
He raised a shaking hand, cutting her off. “Send soldiers to the lab now! I want every last troop guarding the government house. No one, you hear me, no one lets those monsters in here!”
She blinked in confusion. “Sir—”
“Now!” he barked, his voice cracking with rage and fear.
She flinched and nodded quickly, rushing to her desk to make the calls as Brackham staggered into his office. The door slammed shut behind him.
For a moment, he just stood there, breathing in ragged gasps. His hand pressed to his chest, his vision tunnelling.
His pulse was racing too fast, even roaring in his ears. A cold sweat trickled down his neck.
“Not now,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “Not now…”
He stumbled toward his desk, bracing himself on its edge, his breath short and shallow, every heartbeat heavier than the last.
Then, his fingers clawed at his collar as his chest heaved—one ragged breath after another.
The pounding in his heart felt like it might tear him apart.
—
Back in the underground secret lab, the massacre was complete chaos.
A squad of armed men burst in through the far door, guns blazing. For a brief moment, muzzle flashes lit the room like stuttering lightning.
Three vampires fell, their bodies smoking from silver-laced rounds, but then the soldiers’ screams filled the air as the others retaliated with terrifying precision.
The vampires moved like blurs of pale lightning through the crimson haze. Bullets ricocheted off metal as terrified soldiers fired wildly, only to be dragged down one by one.
The two vampires who reached their leader tore the remaining restraints apart. He rose slowly, his crimson eyes glowing brighter under the flickering lights.
“Help your brothers,” he rasped, his voice rough and dangerous. “And then… leave no human alive.”
“Yes, my lord,” one hissed.
The vampires scattered again, leaping over tables, smashing glass, and tearing into the soldiers who dared enter.
When it was over, two vampires remained, bloodied but defiant—standing guard at the exit to hold back more human soldiers as their leader strode free.
He looked around at the burning laboratory—the broken vials, the collapsed shelves, the torn white coats. His eyes narrowed.
“So this is what they do in their holes,” he growled. “They play gods… with blood.”
Then, his expression turned to cold fury.
“Find Brackham,” he ordered. “I want him to watch his city drown before he dies.”
As soon as he finished, a new group of armed human soldiers burst into the lab, opening fire.
The sound of gunfire filled the corridors, but the vampires moved too fast—shadows that struck and vanished. Several soldiers fell in seconds.
Only three vampires remained; they turned to face the advancing troops, cutting them down mercilessly while their leader and the others vanished into the darkness of the tunnel.
—
Moments later, the echo of boots replaced the silence.
Draven, Meredith, Jeffery, and some of their warriors advanced through the same tunnel, guided by the lingering scent of blood and ash.
Draven moved in front, every step deliberate. “The smell is too strong,” he muttered. “The vampires were here not long ago.”
Meredith’s hand tightened on her sword as she scanned the floor, catching sight of deep claw marks and fallen bullets glinting in the dim light.
“They rescued their leader,” she whispered. “Only the soldiers will be left inside now.”
Draven nodded once. “Then we finish what is left. Kill them all.”
At his signal, they advanced. The elevator doors opened with a dull chime, and they stepped inside, descending to the ruined lab below.
The moment the doors slid open, chaos met them. Gunfire erupted. Meredith moved instantly—her sword flashing, striking bullets out of the air in quick, precise arcs.
Draven’s claws extended as he dodged a spray of bullets and lunged forward, ripping through two soldiers before they could reload.
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