199 - My Poor Baby Boy

“Mira—” He called out as he stepped in.

“She is asleep,” a voice answered him. In one corner of the dimly lit room on a sofa was Aunt Alice.

“Oh, thank you, Ma.” He heaved a sigh and started heading to where he believed Mira would be asleep in bed, but Aunt Alice called out his name and he stopped.

“George?”

“Yes?”

“Are you alright?” Her voice held just as much concern as her eyes delivered.

In that moment, it felt like she could see him and his guard slipped. He dropped his shoulder, the pain still coursing through him.

“I—” He began to speak but a scent moved past his nose and rage boiled in his straining veins. He clenched his fists by either side.

He turned in the direction the scent was coming from and like a hunter, he hunted it down.

He pushed the curtains aside and as he had predicted, Delice was holding his daughter. Both of them, asleep in bed.

Anger clouded his eyes.

This fucking Bloodsucker!