Buff cautiously stepped into the room, his movements feather-light, as if afraid of triggering something underfoot.
The short distance of a few meters took him several agonizing minutes to cross.
Even when he reached Shorty, Buff stayed on high alert, not letting his guard down for a second.
"Shorty, don't move. I'm checking your chair now!"
Buff removed the blindfold from Shorty's eyes. Regaining his vision, Shorty's nerves visibly calmed.
The unknown is always the scariest, and seeing his surroundings helped ease his fear.
"Okay, okay!" Shorty nodded.
Buff meticulously inspected the chair and even patted down Shorty's body, confirming nothing was amiss.
"I'm untying you now!"
Shorty let out a relieved breath. The inspection had been torture, but it was finally over.
As Buff untied the ropes, Shorty eagerly stood up, oblivious to the floor beneath the chair shifting slightly upward.
Watching from outside the room, Clary's face paled.
"Watch the floor!"
Buff reacted quickly, spotting the trap under the chair. He lunged for the door, but it slammed shut.
"No—!"
Shorty, now aware something was wrong, let out a high-pitched scream.
Clary tried to transform into her angel form to force the door open, but her inexperience and nerves caused the transformation to fail.
Inside the room, the ceiling opened, and several flamethrowers extended, incinerating Buff and Shorty into charred remains.
Witnessing two people burned alive, the three remaining adults outside the room panicked. Only the little girl in Black-Haired Sister's arms flashed an eerie smile, unnoticed by the others.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it! What the hell do those guys want?!" Glasses screamed, hysterically kicking the wall, though it only left him with a sore foot.
Clary felt a pang of regret. If she'd mastered her transformation, she might have saved Buff and Shorty.
"Calm down! Kicking the door won't help!" Black-Haired Sister tried to reason with Glasses.
"Shut up, you bitch! We're all gonna die, so let me vent!" Glasses snapped, his eyes bloodshot.
Watching his companions die one by one had pushed Glasses into despair, making him unpredictable and dangerous.
Clary and Black-Haired Sister instinctively stepped back, eyeing him warily.
Glasses scanned them both, his gaze carrying a disturbing undertone.
Black-Haired Sister had a striking figure, her Latina complexion flawless, hardly looking like a mother. And Clary, a young, attractive college student—his intentions were clear.
"We're all gonna die anyway. Why not have some fun before the end, huh?" he sneered.
Clary frowned, disgusted.
"Don't do this! I told you, someone's coming to save us. We just need to wait!"
"Wait? I hate waiting!" Glasses roared, suddenly aiming his gun at Black-Haired Sister.
She was too slow, holding the little girl, and a shot hit her arm, making her drop her gun.
Clary lunged for it, but Glasses cocked his gun, stopping her.
"Don't move! Now, no one can stop me!"
His face twisted into a menacing grin as he advanced toward Clary and Black-Haired Sister.
Clary gritted her teeth, stepping protectively in front of them.
"I'm warning you, come any closer, and I won't hold back!"
Glasses smirked, unfazed.
"Oh? And how exactly are you gonna do that?"
Furious, Clary tried to transform again, but her angel form required positive emotions, and she failed once more.
"Why isn't it working?!"
Now even Clary, usually composed, started to panic. She shifted into the self-defense stance Roy had taught her that afternoon, hoping to intimidate Glasses.
But a single afternoon of training wasn't enough. Her moves were clumsy, and under stress, they looked more like a performance than a threat.
To Glasses, it was almost… exciting.
Combat skills like fighting or shooting require repetitive training because stress can distort movements. Rigorous practice turns actions into muscle memory, allowing the body to react faster than the mind in tense situations.
Clary was like a kid with a gun, knowing she held power but not how to use it.
"Sweetheart, you'd be better off not fighting. Might even enjoy it more," Glasses taunted, closing in.
Black-Haired Sister, using her uninjured arm, yanked Clary back and shoved the little girl into her arms.
"I'll hold him off! Run!"
Clary hesitated but obeyed, sprinting toward the basement entrance with the girl.
Glasses grinned wickedly.
"You think they can escape? Since you're playing hero, I'll start with you!"
He lunged at Black-Haired Sister. Despite her injured arm, she fought fiercely, trying to take him on.
In the struggle, Glasses' gun misfired, hitting her thigh. She collapsed, unable to fight back.
Spitting blood, Glasses touched the scratches she'd left on his face and cursed.
"Bitch! Just wait—I'll deal with those girls right in front of you!"
He stomped on her wounded leg, drawing a pained scream, then grabbed her dropped gun and chased after Clary and the girl.
In the basement, Black-Haired Sister struggled to move.
"Damn it, I can't die here! I have to get out!"
Her will to survive was fierce, driven by her bedridden daughter back home. If she died, her daughter's fate was grim.
America doesn't take care of slackers.
But willpower couldn't change reality. She collapsed again, unable to stand, gasping in despair.
Clary ran with the girl in her arms, hearing Glasses' taunting voice behind her.
"I see you~"
She didn't know why she kept running instead of hiding, but hiding felt like a trap—if found, she'd have no escape.
Thanks to her awakened angel blood, Clary's stamina was enhanced. Even carrying the girl for minutes, she wasn't winded.
Somehow, she ended up back in the main living room, where Buzzcut and Blonde's bodies lay, the air thick with blood.
Glasses caught up, his face twisted in a deranged grin.
"Done running?"
Clary, panting, still had some energy but knew running wasn't a solution. She prepared to make a last stand, trying once more to transform.
The little girl tugged at Clary's clothes.
"Big sister, put me down and run alone."
The girl's selflessness made Clary more determined to protect her.
"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe!"
Maybe it was her resolve to protect the girl, but Clary's transformation started to work. A faint white glow enveloped her, but just as it seemed she'd succeed, a sharp pain hit her stomach.
The agony broke her transformation. As an ordinary college student, her willpower wasn't strong enough.
Clutching her stomach, Clary stared in disbelief at the little girl.
Yes, the one who'd attacked her was the seemingly innocent child.
"How… you…"
The shock left Clary speechless.
The girl withdrew her hand, now covered in Clary's blood, which was burning her skin.
Clearly, she wasn't human but some dark creature, harmed by Clary's angelic blood.
Yet her rank must be high—most dark creatures couldn't withstand angel blood's burn.
"No wonder the 11 vampire warriors sent to capture you failed. You've awakened your angel blood!" the girl sneered.
She grabbed Clary's throat, making it hard to breathe.
Clary struggled, but the girl's strength was terrifying, overwhelming even her angelic physique.
Angels, after all, relied more on spirit and will than physical power.
Glasses, still holding his gun, was stunned by the turn of events.
"What the hell is going on?"
The girl turned to him, baring a mouth full of sharp fangs.
(Good teeth, good appetite.)
"You've been impressive tonight. I'm pleased with your performance! Now, I'll give you a chance—kiss my shoes, and you'll be my slave."
Glasses realized the kidnapped girl was the true predator, and they, the kidnappers, were the prey.
Facing the small but terrifyingly imposing girl, he dropped to his knees.
"If I do this, will you let me live?"
His earlier madness stemmed from hopelessness, but he still wanted to survive, even if it meant sacrificing his dignity.
The girl was pleased with his submission.
"Then kiss my shoes!"
Glasses crawled forward on his knees, lowering his head to kiss her dirty ballet slippers.
At that moment, the villa's gate and iron bars were smashed open. A man with black-rimmed glasses walked in, catching the bizarre scene.
Whoa, what kind of kinky game is this?
"Roy!" Clary cried, overjoyed.
Yes, it was Roy. But when he entered, he was so distracted by the girl and Glasses that he didn't immediately notice Clary being choked.
"Clary!" he called out, finally seeing her.
The girl's expression shifted, glaring at Roy with bared fangs.
"Who are you? How'd you get here? I had lookouts posted around the villa!"
Roy grinned at her.
"You mean those werewolves hiding out there? I smelled their stench from a mile away. To avoid alerting you, I took my time silently taking them out one by one. Otherwise, I'd have been here sooner."
In his ghost-wolf form, Roy's sense of smell was razor-sharp. The hidden werewolves were like glowing beacons in a hide-and-seek game.
The girl's face twisted in shock. This man had silently killed over a dozen werewolves—something even she couldn't do.
Werewolves are notoriously resilient. Killing one instantly and silently is no easy feat.
She realized this unassuming man with glasses was terrifyingly powerful.
Luckily, she still had a hostage.
"Don't come closer, or I'll snap this girl's neck!"
Roy smirked, unfazed.
"Are you serious? Isn't your Council after Clary? You'd really kill her?"
Roy was fishing for information, but the girl was sharp and didn't take the bait.
"What Council? I don't know what you're talking about!"
No choice then. Roy would have to capture her and interrogate her slowly.
Fear Incarnate!
Suddenly, the world seemed to expand. The ordinary man before her twisted into a massive, shadowy figure.
"No—!" the girl screamed.
When she opened her eyes again, she was bound by something like hair, a cloth stuffed in her mouth.
As for Glasses, Roy had already snapped his neck.
Clary, now free, threw her arms around Roy.
"Roy, you're finally here! I was so scared!"
"Sorry I'm late," Roy said.
Clary suddenly remembered someone else.
"Roy, come with me! There's another person who needs your help in the basement!"
(End of Chapter)