The sharp command rang through the night air.
"Call for law!"
The riders yanked their reins, their horses skidding to a tense halt. Marcus, seated atop his mount, surveyed the two figures standing before him. Yet, despite his height in the saddle, he did not feel he was looking down on them.
Vampires had senses sharper than humans, particularly in the dark. Even in the dim moonlight, Marcus could clearly see the young man standing before him. He was strikingly handsome, his features sharp yet elegant, with smooth skin free of blemishes or stubble. His jet-black hair was neatly combed back, its length brushing his collar. He wore an immaculately tailored velvet jacket, exuding the kind of refined presence one would expect from nobility rather than a warrior.
Yet his most unnerving trait lay in his black eyes—calm, still, unreadable.
Beside him stood a towering figure, partially shrouded in shadow. The flickering torchlight revealed long, damp dark-brown hair hanging over a broad, powerful face. His thick beard barely concealed the sharp angles of his jaw. A coarse linen shirt clung to his chest, open at the collar, revealing muscle-bound shoulders like sculpted iron. His arms, almost inhumanly long, hung loosely at his sides, yet there was a poised lethality in his stillness. Even from his horse, Marcus felt those deep-set eyes locking onto him, measuring him, waiting.
James Howlett took a step forward, breaking the tense silence.
"I'm James Howlett. I assume you've come looking for me."
Marcus' men slowly began to spread out, forming a loose semicircle around the two.
"Mr. Howlett, since you—"
James cut him off with a simple question, spoken with unsettling composure.
"Are these all of you?"
Marcus blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "...What?"
"Your numbers. Are these all of them? Every last one?"
There was something unnatural about the way he asked it—like a predator taking stock of its prey.
"Of course, we're all here," Marcus responded instinctively before catching himself. "Wait, why do you—"
James didn't let him finish. Turning slightly toward his companion, he spoke in a low, controlled tone.
"Half for each of us. Keep the fat ones. They're harder to kill. Aim for the head. And watch out for their teeth."
Victor let out a low, guttural chuckle.
"Tch. Who said we're splitting them evenly? You can have the leftovers."
With that, he strode forward.
---
The Slaughter Begins
A sharp cry split the air.
A vampire's horse reared back in terror as Victor's massive hand struck out like a cannon, colliding with the animal's skull. The sickening crunch of bone shattered the brief silence. The beast toppled instantly, pinning its rider beneath its thrashing weight.
Before the vampire could react, Victor's foot came down on his chest with a force that made the very ground tremble. The creature coughed up a mouthful of black blood—just as Victor's hands plunged into its throat.
With a brutal, effortless pull, he wrenched the vampire's head clean off, spine and all. The severed skull rolled across the dirt, its lifeless eyes still blinking in confusion.
For a moment, an eerie hush fell over the battlefield. Then, chaos erupted.
The remaining vampires screamed and lunged, moving in bursts of unnatural speed. Some of them flickered and vanished into the darkness, their bodies dissolving into shadow. Others struck from all sides, their movements a blur of fangs and claws.
James exhaled, flexing his fingers.
"Messy," he muttered, sidestepping a blur of motion.
The first attacker came fast, but James was faster. He caught the vampire mid-lunge, his fist rocketing into its chest. The sheer force of the impact sent a shockwave through the creature's ribcage, leaving a gaping crater where its sternum had been.
A follow-up strike—an arcing hammer-blow—caught the vampire's head mid-spin, caving in the skull with a wet, sickening crunch. The body dropped before it even registered death.
But James wasn't done.
Even as another lunged at him, fangs glistening with venom, he twisted—pivoting with effortless precision—before planting his elbow into the creature's face. The vampire's head snapped back at an unnatural angle, its jawbone shattering on impact.
James kept moving, shifting between strikes with an elegance that belied his raw power. To the watching vampires, he was untouchable—an artist of destruction weaving through their ranks with deadly grace.
Victor, on the other hand, was a beast unleashed.
The towering man fought like a rabid animal, tearing through the vampires with reckless abandon. Claws raked across his skin, leaving deep, bleeding gashes—yet he barely seemed to notice. The wounds healed almost as fast as they were inflicted.
His massive hands grabbed a vampire by the torso and ripped it in half as if it were nothing more than a piece of wet parchment.
A head burst under his grip.
A spine snapped like a dry twig.
Victor reveled in the carnage, his laughter mingling with the anguished screams of the dying.
Marcus, watching from atop his horse, felt something he had not experienced in centuries.
Fear.
This wasn't a battle. This was a massacre.
And he was next.
---
The Flight of a Coward
Marcus did not hesitate. He wrenched the reins of his horse, turning it sharply as he spurred it into a desperate sprint.
But even the beast beneath him seemed terrified, its hooves pounding the ground in a frenzied attempt to escape.
James had already noticed.
His eyes flicked toward the fleeing vampire, and in an instant, he moved.
Victor was still knee-deep in carnage, tearing through the last of the stragglers. He barely registered James' absence.
Marcus rode hard, the wind whipping against his face. The castle's gates loomed ahead—shut tight. Panic clawed at his chest. There had to be another way out.
His head snapped to the side—toward the manor's stone walls. Without thinking, he leapt from his horse, moving with inhuman agility. His fingers dug into the rough surface as he began scaling the wall like a monstrous spider.
His destination?
The study.
Where O'Hara was hiding.
James was already moving.
His feet pounded against the dirt as he chased the vampire, his pulse steady, his mind clear.
Marcus would not reach her.
He would not leave this place alive.
James would make sure of it.