The chamber was deathly silent.

Luke could hear nothing but the hammering of his own pulse, the blood roaring in his ears like a storm. His grip tightened around the spear, his knuckles turning white. Across from him, Lord Malric stood as still as a statue, watching him with that same insufferable smirk, his crimson eyes gleaming with something between amusement and hunger.

"I had plans for you," Malric mused, his voice smooth as silk, yet carrying an undeniable weight. "I considered keeping you. Making proper use of you. Perhaps you would have made a fine blood servant, something more than just a broken slave."

Luke clenched his jaw, rage bubbling beneath his skin.

Malric's smile widened as if sensing it. "But now.. I've changed my mind."

He let the words hang in the air, savoring the tension before his gaze flicked past Luke.

"I will take someone else instead."

A cold hand gripped Luke's gut.

Malric raised his gloved hand and pointed.

"That one. Behind you."

Luke's breath hitched as he turned.

Michael.

The traitor stood frozen, his face drained of all color, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn't force the words out. His breathing was shallow, erratic, his shoulders trembling.

Luke felt an ugly mix of emotions churn inside him-revulsion, disgust, but also a bitter understanding.

Michael had sold out his own kind. He had fed information to the vampires, leading to countless deaths. He had laughed as slaves were dragged away to their fates. But now, faced with the same fate himself, he was nothing but a pathetic, sniveling wreck.

Michael staggered back, shaking his head frantically. "N-no... No, please," he rasped. "I

-I did everything you asked. I gave you everything!" His voice cracked. "You said-"

Maric took a slow step forward, his movements eerily controlled, his presence suffocating.

"And you were useful," he said. "For a time."

Michael's legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed onto his knees, his entire body trembling. "Please," he sobbed, his hands clutching at the floor, as if he could sink into it and disappear. "I-I told you everything I knew! | helped you! I-"

Malric crouched beside him, tilting his head slightly. His voice dropped to a whisper, so soft it was almost tender.

"And yet... here we are."

Michael let out a choked whimper.

Malric reached for him.

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And that was when Luke moved.

The spear was already in Luke's hands before he realized what he was doing.

A primal scream tore from his throat as he lunged, the weapon aimed directly for Maric's heart.

Time slowed.

The spearhead, still slick with blood, cut through the air.

Luke could see Malric's expression, frozen in that same smirk, his gaze locked onto Luke's with something almost like curiosity.

Then, in the space between heartbeats-

Malric vanished.

A split-second later, a force like a battering ram struck Luke's chest.

His ribs shattered.

Pain. Blinding, soul-ripping pain.

Luke was airborne, his body folding from the impact before he was hurled backward like a ragdoll. His mind barely registered the world spinning around him before his back slammed into solid stone.

A sickening CRACK split through the chamber.

His body crumpled to the floor, his vision flashing white-hot with agony. Every nerve screamed. His breath hitched, sharp and jagged, as something inside him crunched.

He couldn't move.

The world swayed, distant and unfocused.

Through the ringing in his ears, he heard Malric's soft, almost bored voice.

"Predictable."

Luke gasped, his fingers twitching, his mind struggling to process what had just happened.

I didn't even see him move.

A footstep echoed.

Luke forced his head up-just in time to see Jake.

His best friend was shaking, his teeth bared, his entire body coiled like a predator ready to pounce.

Maric turned his gaze toward him, unimpressed.

"I wouldn't," he said, his voice calm.

Jake took a step forward, fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his palms.

Malric sighed. "Attack me, and you die."

Jake hesitated.

Malric smiled.

Luke tried to move, tried to push himself up, but the second he shifted, pain exploded through his ribs. He let out a strangled groan, his muscles seizing.

A shadow loomed over him.

Then—

Agony.

Malric's boot crushed his hand against the stone floor.

Luke's scream ripped through the chamber.

The sound was raw, guttural-something torn from the depths of his soul. His fingers bent at unnatural angles, bones splintering beneath the unrelenting pressure. His body convulsed as the pain consumed him, white-hot and unbearable.

Malric crouched down beside him, his gloved fingers gripping Luke's chin, forcing his head up.

Luke's breath came in ragged, uneven bursts, his vision swimming.i

Malric studied him, his blood red eyes reflecting something dark, something ancient.

"You're brave," the vampire murmured, almost admiringly. His fingers tightened, his nails digging into Luke's flesh.

"But bravery without power.." He smiled.

"That's just suicide."

Michael was sobbing

Not just crying-sobbing, his entire body convulsing as he pressed himself against the wall.

Malric released Luke, standing to his full height.

He turned toward the cowering traitor.

Michael's breathing hitched. He let out a high, wheezing whimper, his hands gripping his own shirt, as if that would somehow hold him together.

Malric stepped forward.

Michael shook his head, tears streaking down his face. "Please," he begged, his voice raw.

Malric tilted his head.

"Begging," he mused. "How... human."

Michael's lips parted.

Then darkness swallowed him whole.

The shadows surged forward, wrapping around his limbs, his torso, his throat.

Michael let out a gurgling, suffocated scream as he was dragged into the black void, his fingers clawing desperately at the floor.

His nails tore off in bloody streaks.

Then he was gone.

Luke barely registered the hands grabbing him, lifting him, dragging him away from the wreckage of his own failure.

Voices. Frantic. Distant.

Jake. Elias. Someone else.

His vision blurred, his mind slipping into unconsciousness, but he forced his gaze upward one last time.

Malric stood tall, untouched, unbothered.

Like none of this had even mattered.

Luke wanted to curse him. Wanted to stand.

Wanted to fight.

But the pain was too much.

It dragged him under, pulling him into a void of nothingness.

And then—

Darkness.