The helicopter lifted off smoothly, the city slums shrinking beneath them as they rose into the night sky. Shadows stretched below, and the distant hum of life faded as they climbed higher.
When they finally landed on the ship, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The place was sleek, orderly, and heavily guarded, a sharp contrast to the chaos of the city.
Luke, Selene, were escorted through narrow corridors, the soft echo of their footsteps filling the space. Every step brought them closer to the man Luke had come to see—the one whose existence had shaped centuries of vampire and Lycan history.
And then he was there—Alexander Corvinus. Standing tall and composed, his grey-streaked hair framing a face marked by age but free of weakness. Every movement suggested strength and vitality, centuries of life honing him rather than wearing him down.
Luke's eyes scanned him quickly. "Well, finally, meet the big guy," he said casually, sizing him up like any opponent—or ally.
This was the original immortal of the Corvinus bloodline.
He turned slightly to the commander. "Now, can you leave us three? We have something important to discuss."
Alexander's gaze flicked to the commander, who nodded and stepped back, his men keeping a careful distance but ready to act if needed.
Luke didn't waste a second. "I'll cut straight to the point. I want 200 ml of your blood, and I will not take no as an answer."
Alexander raised a brow. Calm, but confused. Who was this human? No one was supposed to know much about him, yet here he stood, speaking as if he knew Alexander personally.
Luke pressed on, urgency in his voice. "Before you refuse, let me make one thing clear—I ended the Lycan and vampire war that had raged for centuries. The Lycans are leaderless. The vampire elders are gone. There's no fighting left, at least for now."
He let it sink in. "Yep. All three vampire elders are dead. Lucian is dead. Even your son Marcus…" His tone carried the weight of truth.
Alexander's face hardened, with a flicker of anger and sorrow passing through his eyes. He would grieve his sons, but he couldn't undo what had happened. One had become a mindless monster, the other a vampire who continually harmed humans.
Alexander had always been a bystander in some ways: a father who could neither punish his children nor stop the chaos they caused, only trying to preserve secrecy and protect human society from discovering vampires and Lycans.
That was why he had formed the Cleaners—a secretive organization tasked with maintaining balance and erasing any traces of vampire and Lycan activity.
Protecting humanity, controlling the aftermath, keeping centuries of war hidden—this was Alexander's silent mission.
Luke didn't soften. "So just give me your blood, and we can go the peaceful route," he said plainly. "Otherwise… well, let's just say I'm wearing a bomb vest. I'll blow myself up along with you."
Alexander blinked, taken aback. This man was reckless, bold, and clearly dangerous. First he threatened his subordinates, now he claimed to carry explosives himself.
Luke's tone was casual, almost like he was making an ordinary request. But Alexander understood immediately: this man valued results over negotiation, and he wasn't bluffing lightly.
If Alexander resisted, Luke could easily escalate to "hard mode." He didn't want that. He didn't want his ship damaged, his crew in danger, or a confrontation he might not control.
Alexander paused, weighing his options carefully. He could argue, resist, or even attempt to stop Luke, but the risks were high. One wrong move could escalate quickly, and this man had already proven himself capable of handling situations others wouldn't dare touch.
Luke had taken down the Lycans, killed vampire elders, and didn't appear afraid to act even in the middle of heavily guarded territory.
He seemed like someone who would take no for an answer lightly, but also someone who wouldn't hesitate to escalate if pushed. Alexander could see it clearly—he didn't want his ship damaged, his crew in danger, or a fight he might not fully control. On top of that,
Luke's threat was… unsettling. A human willing to blow himself up on the spot if denied? That wasn't just bold, it was suicidal.
Alexander didn't want to deal with a suicidal maniac on his ship. One wrong move could spiral into chaos, putting innocent lives at risk. He didn't want to waste time checking if Luke was actually carrying a bomb.
The simplest and safest choice was to give Luke what he wanted and make sure he left the ship immediately.
His thoughts flicked briefly to his son Marcus, now dead. Dangerous, unpredictable, far from innocent. Losing him hurt, but practical decisions came first. Safety of the ship and crew outweighed everything else.
"I can give you what you want," Alexander said finally, his voice steady. "But you must leave the country and never return."
He had no doubts. Luke was too unpredictable, too skilled to be allowed nearby. Letting him go was the safest choice—for Alexander, his crew, and the ship.
Carefully, Alexander drew the blood and handed it to Luke, his gaze making one thing clear: take it, leave immediately, and don't linger. No room for arguments, no hesitation.
Luke took it with a small nod, his grin unchanged. Mission accomplished.