2025-11-14 02:01:13Morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, soft and golden, chasing away the remnants of the nightmare that had haunted the night.
Diego woke with a quiet gasp, sitting upright on the small bed. Sweat clung to his skin, though the room was cool. The dream, no, the memory, still echoed in his mind: the Monaghan hall, the chains, his father’s voice booming “Monaghan don’t run from blood, they feast.” And then Claire’s voice breaking through the darkness, crying, “No, Uncle Liam!” He pressed a trembling hand to his chest. The line between past and present was thinning again. A soft knock came at the door. “Uncle Liam? Breakfast’s ready!” Claire’s voice sang, pulling him back into the light. He took a deep breath, composing himself before opening the door. Claire was already skipping down the hallway, her laughter echoing like music he didn’t deserve. At the table, Mara was setting plates, while Thomas scanned through the morning news on his tablet. The smell of toast and coffee filled the air, simple, warm, human. “Morning, Liam,” Mara greeted, smiling. “You look tired. Bad dreams?” Diego hesitated. “Just… flashes. They don’t make sense.” Thomas looked up briefly, studying him. “Maybe that’s your memory coming back.” He nodded faintly, though inside, he wished it wasn’t. Some memories were better buried. Claire handed him a plate. “Uncle Liam, after breakfast can we go to the park? It’s Saturday, and I wanna show you the lake!” Her joy was infectious, and he found himself nodding before thinking. “Sure.” Her grin widened. “Yay!” For the rest of the morning, the world seemed almost peaceful. They left the house together, the bright sky reflecting in the lake’s calm surface. Claire chased ducks while Diego watched from the bench, quietly fascinated by how ordinary life could feel so extraordinary. But the feeling didn’t last. Something in the air shifted. A subtle hum, faint but sharp, brushed against his senses. He stiffened, eyes narrowing toward the line of trees across the park. There was no one there, just the flutter of leaves and the glint of sunlight through branches. Yet his pulse quickened. That instinct, the one born not of man but of monster, whispered again. Someone’s watching. He could feel it. “Uncle Liam?” Claire’s voice snapped him back. She stood before him, clutching her bag of crumbs. “You okay?” He blinked, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just… thought I saw something.” She followed his gaze, squinting toward the trees. “Probably a squirrel.” She giggled, returning to her ducks. Diego didn’t answer. His gaze lingered on the treeline a moment longer before he exhaled and rose from the bench. The scent was faint, but his senses didn’t lie, cold metal, oil, and silver. The smell of a weapon forged to kill his kind. Across the park, a shadow moved between the trees. Lucian Vale lowered the binoculars, his jaw tightening as the red pulse on his wrist tracker synchronized perfectly with the figure by the lake. There you are. The boy was sitting among humans, laughing, breathing, pretending. It would’ve been almost believable if Lucian hadn’t seen the trace of crimson energy faintly shimmering around him through the special lens on his visor. Vampire aura. Concealed, but not gone. “Hidden among them,” he muttered. “Clever.” He adjusted the scope of his rifle, not to shoot, but to observe. Every movement Diego made was cautious, measured. No sign of aggression. No predatory intent. Strange. Most young vampires couldn’t go this long without craving blood. Lucian frowned. “You’re different.” A passing family walked too close, and he quickly stepped back into the shadows, the weapon dissolving into the folds of his coat. The last thing he needed was human attention. Down by the lake, Mara and Thomas arrived with picnic baskets, waving to Claire and Diego. The image was painfully ordinary, a family at peace, the kind of moment Lucian had long forgotten existed. For a flicker of a second, he hesitated. The hunter within him warred with the man he used to be. Then the device on his wrist blinked again, a pulsing red light. Confirmed: Vampire Signature Detected. Lucian’s hesitation vanished. He turned away, voice low and cold. “Enjoy your daylight while you can, boy. When the sun sets… I’ll come for you.” The wind carried his words like a curse. Diego looked up suddenly, his eyes catching the faintest movement among the trees, a fleeting silhouette swallowed by shadow. He couldn’t see the face, but he could feel the intent. The presence was familiar, the kind that followed blood, not breath. He whispered under his breath, “He’s here.” Mara looked up from the blanket. “What did you say, Liam?” Diego forced a small smile. “Nothing. Just… the wind.” But inside, he knew better. Someone dangerous was near. --- The sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a deep indigo, stars beginning to prick the darkness. Inside, the house was quiet, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound besides Claire’s light breathing in her room. Diego sat at the window, watching the street below, the unease from the park refusing to leave him. His senses tingled again, faint, like a heartbeat just beyond perception. The pulse of blood, distant but insistent. He pressed his fingers against the sill, trying to steady himself. The dinner dishes were cleared, the house finally still, yet the pressure in the air only grew. The hunter was close. Too close. A sudden noise, the soft scrape of metal against stone, made Diego’s head snap toward the yard. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, but the street was empty, the shadows still. Then a voice broke the night air, low, sharp, cutting through the quiet: “Found you.” Diego froze, the words reverberating against his chest. “I never thought you could be this… smart,” the voice continued, carrying a cruel amusement. “For a hundred-thousand-year-old vampire.” Today I must make sure I end your bloodline. It was Lucian Vale. He stepped from the darkness, the faint glint of silver at his belt catching the moonlight. His posture was casual, predatory, yet precise, a hunter confident in his prey. Diego’s pulse accelerated, his instincts screaming. His fangs itched beneath his gums, his muscles coiled. Yet he did not run. Not yet. “But don’t worry,” Lucian said, advancing, "I know the perfect place for you." The hunter's shadow stretched long, reaching toward Diego as he moved closer. Before Lucian could make contact, a sudden gust of wind tore through the yard. In the blink of an eye, Diego felt a surge of power behind him. Strong arms lifted him off the ground with impossibly swift precision. The world blurred around him, and his pulse thundered in his ears. Then, a familiar, commanding voice cut through the night air. “Brother… you’re mine.” Diego’s eyes widened in shock as he realized who held him, someone from the family he thought he had escaped. Lucian froze, a flash of fury crossing his face as he stared up at them from the shadows. And just like that, the night erupted into chaos.
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PRESSURE LINES
The first scream did not come from the mansion.It came from a district Dominic had written off years ago, too narrow, too old, too inconvenient to control properly. A place where blood moved hand to hand instead of through accounts.It was brief.Cut short.And it never reached the authorities.In the underworld, a new marker pulsed once on Lewis’s map, then dimmed.“Contain,” Lewis said without looking up.The response came immediately. Routes adjusted. Two feral packs shifted course, flowing around the disruption instead of toward it.Pressure, not collapse.He watched the city respond the way a living thing does when it realizes it’s wounded, tightening, compensating, trying to protect vital organs.“Dominic will feel that one,” a voice said nearby.Lewis didn’t answer. He already knew.At the Monaghan mansion, the music continued.That, more than anything, unsettled Diego now.It had lost its rhythm, not in tempo, but in intent. The sound pressed too hard against the walls, as i
REDIRECTED
The city felt darker.Not because the lights had gone out, streetlamps still burned, windows still glowed, but because something else had dimmed. A background hum most people never noticed had thinned, leaving behind a quiet that didn’t belong to night.It was the kind of silence that made instincts itch.----At the far end of the city, in a modest house that had no idea it sat on the edge of something vast, the Evans family felt it without knowing why.Claire hadn’t been herself all day.She startled at small sounds. Paused mid-step as if listening to someone who wasn’t there. Her laughter, once uncontrollable, once bright, had vanished into long stretches of thoughtfulness that scared her parents more than any outburst could have.Mara watched her from the kitchen doorway, heart tightening.“She keeps saying his name in her sleep,” she murmured. “Uncle Liam’s.”Thomas nodded slowly, his concern heavier now that the truth had a shape.Diego.They knew the name now. Knew that the boy
THE WEIGHT OF Silence
The music grew louder.That was the second lie.Violins surged, cellos deepened, the rhythm swelling as though sound itself could stitch authority back into the air. Servants moved with renewed urgency, hands steady but eyes too alert, smiles held just a breath too long.Dominic wanted noise.Noise meant control.Diego felt the opposite happen.The city pulled again, harder this time. Not closer. Deeper. Signals collapsed inward, not in panic, but in obedience to something else. Routes Dominic had built to loop back into themselves were no longer looping.They were being redirected.Lewis wasn’t cutting power.He was rewriting pathways.Diego opened his eyes.Across the hall, Raphael had shifted closer to Vesna without appearing to move. Aurelian no longer bothered to hide his interest; his gaze tracked the exits, the ceiling, the guards, counting, measuring.Dominic lifted his glass again.“Tonight,” he said, voice smooth and resonant, “reminds us why we gather. Why bloodlines endur
WHEN THE ROOM STARTS LISTENING
Dominic hadn't returned and that alone unsettled the room more than any alarm ever could.Minutes passed, measured, polite minutes, while the quartet continued to play and servants moved around as if nothing had shifted. But the illusion had thinned. Vampires no longer spoke in clusters. Conversations fractured into pairs, then fell into silence. Eyes tracked exits. Senses stretched outward, probing for reassurance that did not come.Diego remained where he was.Still. Visible. Watching.The city pressed harder against his awareness now, no longer a current but a pull, the smell of blood vampering all around, he could feel it. This wasn’t brute disruption. It was surgical. He understood that instinctively.Someone knew the outcome of Dominic’s power.Aurelian moved first.Not away from the tension, toward it.He drifted through the room with casual confidence, murmuring just enough to be heard.“Blood couriers rerouted.” “Enforcers not answering.” “Safehouses going dark without a tr
FAULT LINES BENEATH SILK
The music never stopped.That was the first thing Diego noticed.Even as the room subtly changed, postures tightening, voices lowering, glances lasting a fraction too long, the string quartet continued its measured rhythm. A lie dressed as elegance.Dominic stood unmoved at the centre of it all, speaking softly with an elder from the Baltic bloodline. His expression was calm, indulgent.Controlled.But Diego felt it.A tremor, not in the floor, but in the city.Not hunger. Not fear.Movement.It brushed against his senses like a cold current slipping under a locked door.Someone laughed too loudly near the west windows. Someone else stopped drinking.A servant crossed the hall, then abruptly turned back, whispering something urgent to a guard. The guard nodded once and did not return to his post.Diego’s fingers curled slowly.Something was happening outside Dominic’s design.Aurelian Kade leaned near a marble balustrade, watching the room as if it were a theatre. His earlier amusemen
THE UNDERWORLD MOVES
The underworld didn't have walls as usual, but it certainly had its rules. Lewis found himself standing in a place that was somehow nowhere and everywhere at once. And he was proud. A private network, stitched together with encrypted channels, secret blood ties, and old pacts that never touched the physical world. Screens just floated there, unframed, and voices carried without making a sound. This was where the night truly spoke to itself.Lewis already knew about the party. "You don't gather like that unless you're afraid." Around him were the fera vampires, already preparing to hunt, their faces showed men hungry for blood."The Monaghan signal went out too far," someone murmured. "Old families, new deals… It's all too neat."Lewis gave a single nod. "He wants the city to seem peaceful," he replied. "So, we'll make peace incredibly expensive." He made a subtle gesture, and the city unfurled before him, not as streets and buildings, but as a living map of flows: the routes of blo
