Dominic Monaghan did not sleep that night.He stood alone in his study long after the guests had gone, the mansion returned to its polished silence. The walls were lined with glass and steel, screens embedded seamlessly between art and architecture—news feeds looping the same images over and over.His image. His son. His empire.On the surface, it was perfection.Dominic watched the footage without sound. He didn’t need it. He knew every word he had spoken, every pause, every calculated smile.What unsettled him wasn’t what he saw.It was what he hadn’t anticipated.He turned toward the security wall. “Lock the perimeter,” he said quietly.The command center responded instantly. Gates sealed. Access codes rotated. Surveillance protocols escalated from passive to aggressive.“Internal audits,” Dominic continued. “Every division. Every subsidiary. I want discrepancies flagged within the hour.”“Yes, sir.”Dominic’s fingers flexed once at his side.He hadn’t built his empire by ignoring

The training chamber was buried deep beneath the mansion.No windows.No cameras visible.Just steel walls, reinforced flooring, and lights calibrated to never fully dim.Dominic believed shadows invited thought.Diego stood at the center of the room, barefoot, shirtless, every muscle already tight with anticipation. His breathing was controlled—not calm, but practiced.Across from him, three men waited.Not guards.Handlers.They wore neutral expressions, bodies relaxed in the way of people trained to endure violence without reacting to it.Dominic observed from behind the glass.“Begin,” he said.The first strike came without warning.A baton slammed into Diego’s ribs. He staggered but didn’t fall. He clenched his jaw, eyes fixed forward.“Again,” Dominic ordered.Another blow. Then another.Diego absorbed them, breath sharp but measured. He didn’t retaliate. That wasn’t the lesson.Control was.Minutes passed. Sweat ran down his spine. His hands trembled—not from pain, but restrain

Morning crept into the city like a cautious intruder.Not sunlight—movement.Traffic resumed in careful waves. Office lights flickered on floor by floor. People stepped back into routines they trusted would protect them. The illusion of normalcy slid into place with practiced ease.From the upper level of the Monaghan mansion, Dominic Monaghan watched it all unfold.The glass walls of his private observation gallery reflected the city back at itself—orderly, structured, obedient. From here, the streets looked like arteries feeding a body he had built and maintained for decades.Alive because he allowed it to be.“Status,” Dominic said without turning.Behind him, screens adjusted instantly. Data flowed—security reports, financial movements, internal communications. Nothing alarming. Nothing obvious.That, more than anything, irritated him.“All systems operational,” a voice replied through the wall interface. “No breaches. No external threats detected.”Dominic clasped his hands beh

The city kept moving.People crossed streets. Trains ran on time. Screens flashed headlines that meant nothing to the ones who mattered. Routine wrapped itself around the city like armor, convincing everyone that structure meant safety.Dominic Monaghan returned to his study without a word to anyone. The door sealed behind him with a muted click, shutting out the rest of the mansion.Raphael’s voice still lingered in his mind—not loud, not threatening.Worse.Certain.Dominic set his phone down slowly as systems recalibrated around him. Security feeds shifted. Patrol routes updated. Surveillance priority lists reordered themselves in quiet obedience. Names surfaced on internal displays—old ones. Forgotten ones.Blood that believed it was owed something.“Find him,” Dominic said quietly into the room. “I don’t care where he’s been hiding.”The system acknowledged at once.Raphael had always been dangerous—not because he was reckless, but because he understood restraint. Because he kn

Lewis stood at the edge of the chamber.The Underworld did not resemble a city so much as a body—layered, pulsing, alive in ways the surface could never understand. Sound traveled differently here. So did fear.The feral vampires waited.They filled every level of the space, gathered on iron walkways and concrete ledges, crouched in shadows and open corridors alike. Hundreds of them. Some old enough to remember the Monaghan name before it meant domination. Others so recently turned that their hunger still outpaced their thoughts.None of them moved.Lewis had broken that instinct out of them months ago.“Dominic will respond,” the Unknown Man said. “He always does.”Lewis didn’t look at him. His attention remained fixed on the central display—a map not of streets, but of influence. Territory. Lines of obedience glowing faintly across the city.“Of course he will,” Lewis said. “That’s the point.”He stepped forward, boots echoing once. The ferals reacted instantly—backs straightening,