James Howlett fixed his gaze on O'Hara, his voice calm but firm. "Be obedient. When you get to Chicago, take the train back to Edmond. Bob will accompany you home."
O'Hara, no longer the little girl she once was, crossed her arms and shot him an imploring look, her tone laced with defiance and a hint of mischief. "You could take me to find Victor instead! The war in the North is going well, and there are people here to handle things. It's safe enough!"
James shook his head, unwavering. His journey south had begun after meeting President Lincoln in Washington, but it wasn't just about Victor. He was surveying the state of post-war America, mapping potential land acquisitions and industrial opportunities. But the war wasn't over yet.
Finding Victor meant walking into danger. Vampires, the elusive Adam, and remnants of blood-drinking creatures still lurked in the shadows. Bringing O'Hara into that chaos was out of the question.
Realizing her plea had fallen on deaf ears, O'Hara pouted and switched tactics. "Fine, but at least let's stay in Illinois for a few days before I head back."
James hesitated, then relented with a sigh. A few days wouldn't hurt.
---
Joliet: A Town of Promise and Shadows
The town of Joliet, not far from Chicago, had grown rapidly in recent years. It was on the cusp of cityhood, with a railroad that stretched south toward Arkansas. For James, every new town presented a question: Was this a place worth investing in?
They arrived as a group of five, including their coachman, and settled in a quiet inn on the outskirts of town. The innkeeper, an eager old man with a passion for local sights, enthusiastically recommended a nearby hill as the best spot to watch the sunset.
So, with the golden hour approaching, James and O'Hara set out for a small picnic, leaving the older Howlett men to their usual pastimes—drinking and storytelling at the town's liveliest bar.
Sitting in the soft grass, O'Hara watched James slice an apple with practiced ease. "James, why do you never change?" she mused, resting her chin on her hands.
James arched an eyebrow. "What kind of nonsense is that?"
"No, I mean it," she insisted, gesturing animatedly. "If you shaved off your beard, you'd look just like you did at twenty. Your skin is still the same… It's almost unfair."
His hand froze for a fraction of a second before he continued peeling. "You're imagining things."
"I'm not," she huffed. "Shave tomorrow. I bet you won't look a day older."
James rolled his eyes, prepared to dismiss her teasing, when something changed.
His nostrils flared.
A scent—familiar, yet wrong.
He inhaled sharply, his body tensing like a predator sensing danger.
"O'Hara, go back to the inn. Now."
She had seen this look before. The last time… it had been those monsters.
O'Hara didn't argue. She turned and sprinted back toward the inn, her heart pounding. She trusted James to handle whatever had set him on edge.
---
A Familiar Shadow Approaches
James rose to his feet, his senses on high alert. His gaze locked onto the darkening woods to the south, where the scent originated. It was almost Victor's scent. Almost.
But something was off.
As the sun dipped behind the trees, a long shadow stretched forward. Then, out of the gloom, a figure emerged—broad shoulders, a predatory gait, and eyes that gleamed with unsettling intensity.
Victor Logan.
A slow, wicked grin spread across Victor's face. "Well, ain't this convenient. Saves me a trip to Edmond."
James' fists clenched. "What did you do?"
Victor's scent was wrong. It wasn't just his—it was tangled with something else. Something dark. Something that smelled of Adam.
Victor spread his arms, his expression unreadable. "I did what you wouldn't."
James' eyes narrowed. "You took his power."
Victor's grin widened, his canines gleaming. "No. I took all of it."
A low, guttural growl rumbled from his throat. His pupils shrank to slits, the whites of his eyes glowing an eerie yellow.
Then came the change.
Victor's body twisted, expanded.
His bones cracked and reformed, his claws stretching into jagged, lethal weapons. A massive exoskeletal spike tore through his elbow, its tip gleaming in the fading sunlight. His muscles pulsed, thick veins bulging beneath his skin as his form evolved into something monstrous.
Brown fur bristled along his spine. His teeth—once human enough—grew into fangs meant for shredding.
Then came the roar.
The sheer force of it sent shockwaves through the air, rustling leaves and flattening the grass beneath them.
James exhaled slowly, his body instinctively responding to the surge of adrenaline. His heart thundered in his chest, his senses sharpened to a razor's edge. The air around him warped from the sheer heat of his rising energy, distorting his silhouette like a mirage.
Victor took a step forward, a savage grin playing on his lips.
James didn't flinch. He met Victor's gaze with cold, unforgiving resolve.
Victor chuckled darkly. "Good."
Then they lunged.
The world blurred as they collided, the force of their impact like two locomotives crashing at full speed.
Victor fought like a beast unleashed, his claws raking through the air, every strike a force of nature. He tore through the earth with each step, his raw strength inhuman.
James moved with ruthless efficiency—his footwork explosive, his fists landing with bone-shattering precision. He drove his knuckles into Victor's ribs, the sickening crack of bone barely audible over the storm of their battle.
But Victor was stronger.
One swipe—faster than a blink—sent James hurtling backward. His shoulder shattered on impact, muscles torn open by Victor's claws.
He hit the ground hard, pain lancing through his body. His vision swam, but his wounds were already knitting themselves back together.
Victor, towering over him, tilted his head. "Still holding back?"
James wiped the blood from his mouth, his jaw tightening. He felt it then—that primal force, the thing Victor had always wanted him to embrace.
The bones in his hands shifted. His flesh split.
And then, they emerged.
Two gleaming, bone-white claws, stretching nearly thirty centimeters from his knuckles.
Victor's eyes widened in elation. "Yes! That's the James I've been waiting for."
The final restraints shattered.
James charged.
Their battle resumed with unrelenting fury. Flesh tore, blood splattered, and the echoes of their roars filled the twilight sky.
For the first time in his life, James wasn't holding back.
And Victor?
Victor laughed.
Even as he bled, as his strength waned, as he collapsed beneath the weight of his wounds—he laughed.
His lips, pale and cracked, curled upward in genuine satisfaction.
"Thank you, Jamie..."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, its final rays bathed Victor's face in gold. His body trembled, but his expression remained at peace.
For the first time in his life, Victor Logan smiled.
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