"Ahhh!" Selene yelped in pain as the blade dug into her shoulder.
Scrrrr—
Without hesitation, she slammed the brakes. The wheels screeched against the asphalt, drawing black tire marks across the road. Lucien was thrown forward by the sudden halt, tumbling off the vehicle and crashing onto the ground.
Seeing her chance, Selene reversed a few meters, then accelerated again—intent on running him down.
Bang!
Lucien rolled over the windshield, across the hood, and into the air as the car sped forward. But contrary to Selene's expectations, he landed on both feet with athletic grace, completely unharmed.
He turned, watching the car race off into the distance. It was too late to catch up in human form.
With a grunt, he flicked his wrist, retracting the blade contraption embedded in his arm.
Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.
"Bravo!"
A voice sliced through the haze of Lucien's dark thoughts. He turned toward it, narrowing his eyes. A man stood a few meters away, cloaked in a long trench coat. The light from the building behind him obscured his face—until he stepped forward.
"Hello, Lucien," the stranger greeted, his tone smooth, deliberate.
Lucien's face shifted through several emotions.
"Alexander…" he breathed, the name falling from his lips.
He stared, trying to make sense of the sight before him. "What has caused all of you to crawl out of your holes and come to this city?" he demanded.
Alexander chuckled softly. "Straight to the point, huh? Firstly—good to see you again. That's how gentlemen converse." He clasped his hands behind his back, his voice laced with mock civility. "Second, we were not in a hole. But seeing as your mind is clouded in ignorance, I'll forgive the insult."
His grin widened, revealing sharp canines. "As for why we're here… I believe you can deduce that for yourself."
Lucien's eyes widened in alarm. "He's here?" he asked quickly.
Alexander said nothing, only smiled wider.
"What have you done? This whole city is doomed!" Lucien growled. His tone darkened. "No… wait. You wouldn't risk exposure unless—"
"Yes, Lucien," Alexander interrupted, pride swelling in his voice. "We've finally succeeded."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Far away, Selene drove on without stopping. fear gnawing at her that Lucien might still be following. Blood soaked her shoulder, the wound bleeding profusely. Her vision blurred.
Michael sat beside her, pale and shaken by everything he'd witnessed—first the gunfight in the subway, now this chase with a woman who had saved his life more than once from enemies he didn't understand.
"Hey, stop the car! Hey—stop the car!" he shouted, voice trembling. The adrenaline had faded, leaving him weak and light-headed.
He reached for the steering wheel, but before his hand touched it, a gun was pointed directly at his head.
"Back off!" Selene barked, her tone sharp and dangerous.
Michael froze, raising both hands slowly. He had seen her shoot before—he knew she wouldn't hesitate.
"Okay, alright," he said quietly, voice barely above the hum of the tires on asphalt. "But… you've lost a lot of blood." He leaned back, showing he meant no harm.
Selene's breathing steadied. After a tense pause, she lowered the gun. She was visibly weakening, yet her resolve remained.
"If you don't stop this car, you're going to get us both killed," Michael said softly.
Selene ignored him, eyes fixed ahead.
"I'm not screwing around!" Michael shouted.
"Neither am I! Shut up—I'll be fine!" Selene snapped back, frustration cutting through her exhaustion.
Instead of slowing down, she shifted gears and pressed harder on the accelerator. The car surged forward. Michael could only watch helplessly as they sped toward disaster.
Minutes in, Selene's strength began to fade completely. Her eyelids fluttered. Her grip on the wheel loosened.
"Hey!" Michael yelled.
But she didn't respond. Her head dipped, eyes closing.
The car veered off course, her foot still on the gas.
"Shit!"
Michael barely had time to react before the vehicle burst through the guardrail and plunged off the edge—crashing into the dark waters below.
The surface rippled violently, swallowing the car whole.
By the pier, a figure stood watching. A shadow against the pale light of the city.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
Selene's eyes fluttered open.
She was lying on a plush, comfortable couch.
Startled, she sat upright, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings—a gothic chamber draped in velvet and dimly lit by a crystal chandelier. Her instincts flared. In an instant, she leapt upward, clinging to the ceiling above the shimmering chandelier, hidden within the shadows.
Her eyes scanned the room below, searching for danger.
The door opened.
A man in a black trench coat entered, his steps calm and deliberate. His eyes swept over the empty couch—then lifted, locking onto her position above.
But before he could see, Selene was gone from sight.
"Get down from there. I mean you no harm," the man said calmly, his hands slipping into his coat pockets. His voice carried a patient, almost musical tone.
Though she hid well, Selene's tricks meant little against someone with heightened senses. He could hear her heartbeat. In his vision, she was a glowing red pump.
Vampires sired by Marcus might have called themselves cursed for their inability to walk in daylight. But they had no idea what a real curse was. The Order had learned that lesson long ago.
"Who are you? And what am I doing here?" Selene's voice came from the shadows.
"Please—come down, and I shall explain." he replied with quiet composure.
Up above, Selene shifted position, silently gauging him. She inhaled deeply, trying to discern his scent—but it was strange, neither Lycan nor purely human. The room itself was sophisticated—too refined to belong to Lycans. It carried an air of nobility.
Finally, she dropped gracefully to the floor, landing without a sound.
"Thank you for your patience," he said with a faint smile. "Now, if you would—follow me."
He turned and walked out of the chamber, expecting her to follow.
Selene hesitated for a moment, studying his back—then the room once more. Reluctantly, she followed.