The Vampire King’s Wrath
The Vampire King’s throne room was deathly silent, the kind of silence that carried weight and menace. Only the steady drip of water from some unseen crack in the stone walls broke the stillness, each droplet echoing like a countdown. Adrian stood stiffly before the throne, his head slightly bowed in deference, though his clenched fists betrayed his inner turmoil.
“You’ve been investigating these… anomalies for weeks now,” the King said, his deep voice a rumble that reverberated through the cavernous chamber. His tone carried the kind of disappointment that felt more dangerous than anger. “And yet, you bring me no results.”
Adrian forced himself to meet his father’s piercing crimson gaze. The weight of it was as oppressive as the man himself, but Adrian held firm. “I’m close,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension coiled in his chest. “They’ve been careful, but I’ve seen the cracks. Give me a little more time.”
The King rose slowly from his throne, his towering figure casting a shadow that seemed to stretch endlessly. His glowing eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a faint sneer. “You’ve always been soft, Adrian,” he said, each word dripping with disdain. “It’s why you fail.”
The accusation stung, but Adrian kept his expression carefully neutral. “This isn’t softness,” he replied, his tone measured. “It’s strategy. If we move too soon, we’ll lose the element of surprise.”
The King’s smile was faint and humorless, a predator’s grin before the kill. He stepped down from the dais, his boots striking the stone with deliberate force. When he reached Adrian, his hand clamped down heavily on his son’s shoulder. The grip was iron, unyielding and cold. “Excuses,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You’ve been indulging these games for long enough. If you can’t uncover the truth, my knights will.”
Adrian’s stomach twisted at the implication. The King’s knights were merciless, their methods brutal and indiscriminate. If they were sent after Lyra and Eryon, there would be no subtlety, no chance for intervention. Their wrath would leave no room for secrets—or survivors.
“I understand,” Adrian said tightly, his voice betraying none of the dread swirling inside him.
The King’s smile widened, though it was devoid of warmth. “Good. Then prove your worth, Adrian. Or I’ll show you how it’s done.”
Adrian bowed his head again as the King released his grip, his chest burning with the weight of the ultimatum. As he turned and walked out of the throne room, the echo of the King’s words followed him like a phantom.
His mind raced, every thought a battle between conflicting loyalties. He had been defending Lyra and Eryon for longer than he should have, deflecting suspicion and delaying his father’s wrath. But now, the noose was tightening. The King’s patience was gone, and Adrian was out of time.
Failure wasn’t an option—but neither was betrayal.
Adrian clenched his fists as he stepped into the cold night air outside the throne room. The line between his loyalty to the Vampire King and his growing feelings for Lyra had never felt so razor-thin. His next move would decide everything: his future, her fate, and the fragile balance between his desire and his duty.
