Luke adjusted the heavy iron keyring on his belt, his heart hammering against his ribcage like a trapped animal. Each step toward the feral prison felt heavier than the last, as if the mansion itself were weighing down on him, testing his resolve.

The corridors leading to the prison were quieter than usual, the dim torches casting flickering shadows across the cold stone walls. He glanced at the blood bags slung over his shoulder, their dark contents shifting with each movement.

The shadows of the mansion seemed heavier that night, stretching like the claws of unseen predators. Every breath Luke took felt like inhaling ice. He stood at the entrance to the feral prison, facing a hulking vampire guard whose sharp eyes bore into him with suspicion.

"You're alone?" the guard asked, narrowing his bloodshot gaze. His voice was like gravel, low and menacing.

Luke forced his body to stay still. "Yes. I was told to feed them. There wasn't time to wait for a second hand."

The guard tilted his head slightly, frowning.

"Strange. That's against protocol."

"I didn't question it," Luke replied, keeping his tone neutral. "I only follow orders. If there's an issue, you can take it up with Lord Malric." He emphasized the name, knowing it carried enough weight to dissuade further questioning.

The guard hesitated, his hand gripping the heavy iron key ring at his belt. Finally, he grunted and turned, unlocking the thick iron door. "If you don't come out, I'm not going in there to save you."

Luke swallowed the knot in his throat and stepped through the creaking door. The air inside was suffocating-a cocktail of rot, blood, and despair that clung to his skin. The dim torches lining the narrow corridor flickered, casting grotesque shadows on the blood-smeared walls.

Ahead, the ferals stirred.

As Luke walked deeper into the prison, the sounds of chains rattling and low, guttural growls filled the space. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, revealing the caged horrors that lined both sides of the corridor.

The ferals were skeletal, their flesh clinging to their bones as if their bodies had forgotten the luxury of sustenance. Their jagged teeth glistened, stained with dried blood. Their red eyes glowed like embers, following Luke's every move.

One of them lunged against the bars, snarling viciously. The force of its attack sent sparks flying as its chains strained. Luke froze for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Easy," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of hunger and rage.

He reached into the sack he carried, pulling out blood bags.

One by one, he hurled them to the farthest end of the corridor. The ferals reacted instantly, their attention shifting to the scent of fresh blood. They clawed at the bars, their inhuman screeches echoing through the halls.

Luke's hands trembled as he punctured the bags with a sharp nail. Blood sprayed across the stone floor, pooling and trailing toward the cages. The ferals went wild, thrashing against their confines.

"Just a little longer," Luke whispered, his voice a plea as much as a reassurance.

Unlocking the Beast

With the ferals distracted, Luke moved to the first cell. He fumbled with the iron key, his fingers slick with sweat. The lock clicked open with a groan, and the feral inside lunged, its chains barely holding it back.

Luke recoiled, his stomach churning.

He moved to the next cell, then the next, each lock opening with agonizing slowness.

By the time he reached the final cell, a sound behind him froze him in place-the snap of breaking metal.

Luke turned, his blood running cold. At the far end of the corridor, one of the ferals had broken free of its shackles. Its red eyes met his, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

Then it roared, a guttural sound that shook the air.

Luke didn't think. He ran.

The feral gave chase, its bare feet slapping against the blood-soaked floor. Luke's legs burned as he sprinted toward the exit, the beast's growls growing louder behind him.

As he reached the door, he shouted to the guard stationed outside. "One of them's loose!"

The guard's eyes widened. Without hesitation, he slammed the door shut and locked it, sealing Luke on the safe side.

"Stay here!" the guard barked, running off to alert reinforcements.

Luke doubled over, panting. His body trembled with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

Elias crept through the mansion's east wing, his heart pounding in his ears. The oil-soaked rags he carried reeked, but their stench was nothing compared to the fear gnawing at him.

He paused by a towering set of curtains, their deep crimson fabric heavy with dust.

Carefully, he tucked an oil-soaked rag into the folds and doused the surrounding area.

The hall was eerily silent, save for the faint crackle of nearby torches. Every creak of the floorboards felt like a thunderclap in the oppressive quiet.

He moved to a series of ornate paintings lining the walls. Their gilded frames depicted long-dead vampires in regal poses. Elias doused the edges of the canvas with oil, his hands shaking.

Finally, he pulled out the lighter. The small flame flickered, illuminating his face. He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the spark wheel.

"This is for all of us," he whispered.

He lit the first rag. The flame caught slowly, then roared to life, licking up the curtain.

Elias moved quickly, lighting more rags and tossing them onto the oil-soaked floor. The fire spread rapidly, devouring everything in its path.

Smoke filled the air, stinging his eyes and lungs. As the flames climbed higher, alarms began to sound-deep, resonant gongs that echoed through the mansion.

Luke, Jake, and Elias regrouped outside the feral prison, their faces streaked with sweat and soot. The chaos inside the mansion was palpable-the sound of shouted orders, the clash of weapons, and the distant roars of ferals echoed through the halls.

"Now," Luke said, his voice firm.

They made their way to the pets' chambers, where a handful of guards were stationed.

"There's a fire!" Luke shouted, his voice tinged with urgency. "You need to get help!"

The guards exchanged glances, their confusion giving way to panic. They bolted toward the source of the commotion, leaving the chambers unguarded.

Luke and Jake burst into the room, where the pets huddled together, their faces pale with fear.

"It's time," Luke said. "Follow us. Stay quiet, and don't look back."

The pets hesitated for a moment, then rose as one, their determination outweighing their fear.

The group moved quickly, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The smell of smoke grew stronger, mingling with the scent of blood that seemed to permeate the very walls.

As they reached the edge of the east wing, Luke glanced back. The flames had spread, casting an ominous glow that lit up the night.

"This is it," he said, his voice steady. "No turning back."

With that, they stepped into the darkness, leaving the mansion behind.