Let Me Go
"You get it," Jay said with a nod.
He continued, "Zia is only 22. She should have been a college lecturer like you or even pursuing further studies at a top university. But now, she's stuck in a hospital bed."
"Professor, I didn't want things to turn out like this either."
Damon's voice was deep and low, almost rumbling from the back of his throat. "But studying the Vampire Clan without authorization is illegal. If the Vampire Enforcement Agency (VEA) finds out, the consequences will be severe."
"Can you really stand by and let Zia spend her entire life in a hospital? Is that fair to her?"
Jay's voice suddenly rose, trembling with emotion. His hands shook, and his chest heaved as he tried to contain himself.
"I…" Damon hesitated.
He knew this wasn't fair to Zia.
But fairness? Did it even exist in this world?
If it did, his parents wouldn't have vanished under mysterious circumstances, leaving no trace. The VEA had brushed it off as if nothing had ever happened.
Jay raised his shaking hand and gripped Damon's shoulder tightly.
Summoning every ounce of courage he had, he pleaded, "Damon, I've always thought of Zia as my own daughter. Please… let me have some peace in my old age, will you?"
Jay's trembling grip accidentally tugged at the wound on Damon's chest.
Damon winced slightly, his flawless lips pressing into a thin line.
He looked at Jay's weary face and, for a moment, a rare softness flickered in his usually cold eyes.
"Professor, what do you want me to do?"
Hearing Damon's response, Jay's tense expression eased considerably.
He released Damon and said, "Next month, your promotion announcement will be posted. The university will approve you to research an independent lecture topic. I don't need to spell it out for you, do I?"
"I understand." Damon replied quietly.
In truth, studying the Vampire Clan had always been part of Jay's plan.
Damon knew that—and understood.
But ever since meeting Elena, he had started to feel an unexplainable softness in his heart, an urge to be… kind.
Otherwise, last night's Vampire Frenzy, which had attracted a large number of Vampire Clan members, would have been a perfect chance to capture them for research.
Ring. Ring.
Ring. Ring.
Damon's phone buzzed. The caller was an unfamiliar number, not in his contacts.
He rejected the call. Nothing was more important than Zia right now.
Ring. Ring.
Ring. Ring.
The persistent caller dialed again, refusing to give up.
Jay lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and spoke in a calmer tone. "Why aren't you answering? If it's something urgent, go take care of it. I'll stay here with Zia and let you know when there's an update."
"Alright," Damon finally agreed.
Could it be Elena calling?
"Go ahead." Jay patted Damon on the shoulder with a grin. "And remember, I'm still waiting for your wedding candy with Zia."
"Take care, Professor. I'll be leaving now." Damon's voice was polite but distant as he turned and walked toward the elevator, his expression indifferent, almost icy.
Jay watched Damon's retreating figure, smoke curling around his face. A faint, smug smile appeared on his oily, lined face. Biting down on his cigarette, he muttered to himself, Hmph. Damon is my student. There's no way I can't handle that boy.
Exiting the hospital, Damon redialed the unknown number.
"This is Damon. Who's calling?"
The voice on the other end was frantic and furious.
"Damon! I knew you humans were up to no good!"
Damon held the phone away from his ear, letting the voice rant.
When the caller finally ran out of breath, Damon spoke again, his tone calm. "Say what you need to say. Leave the emotions out of it."
The caller—Elysia—was fuming, but she managed to spit out, "If you don't get here soon, you'll never see Elena again!"
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The call ended abruptly.
When Damon tried calling back, Elysia's phone was already switched off.
Five minutes later, a Lamborghini Aventador screeched into Solara Residences, cutting through the crisp morning air before coming to a halt.
Damon parked the car, stepped out, and walked upstairs.
Unlocking the door, his voice was sharp as he entered. "Elysia, if this isn't something serious, you'd better take responsibility for ruining my mood."
In the living room, Elysia sat with her hair disheveled and clothes in disarray. She clutched a blood bag, drinking greedily from it.
She looked up at Damon, panting for breath. "And who's going to take responsibility for my mood? You said Elena's injuries weren't serious. Then why did she have another Vampire Frenzy this morning?"
"What? A second frenzy?" Damon's brows furrowed, his gaze dark and thoughtful.
"Wrong. Including the one at the chicken farm yesterday, this makes three in two days. If this keeps up, she'll die," Elysia corrected, her tone sharp.
Damon removed his jacket and hung it on the coat rack. Rolling up his sleeves, he asked, "Where is Elena?"
Vampire Clan Frenzy—a force to be reckoned with.
It doesn't just demand immense spiritual energy; it also drains the Vampire Clan's physical strength and depletes the surrounding vital energy.
Under normal circumstances, a vampire rarely undergoes Frenzy more than twice in a short period.
But Elena was now on her third Frenzy.
Why? What was causing this?
Damon couldn't shake the feeling that something about Elena's Frenzy was... unusual.
Elysia, having just finished a blood bag, regained a bit of her strength. As she led Damon toward the bedroom, she remarked, "Good thing Ronan's here. He's timid, sure, but his strength is decent. Comes in handy when it counts."
Inside the bedroom, Elena's wrists were tightly bound, red marks etched into her pale skin. Ronan held her, restraining her in his arms.
Sweat glistened on his strikingly beautiful face, a clear sign of the tremendous effort it took to control her.
"Let. Me. Go!" Elena's voice was low, raspy, and dangerous, each word laced with an undeniable authority.
She thrashed violently. Her exquisite features were marred by bulging veins, her silver eyes gleaming with a cold, predatory light. Her Lunar Trace fangs gleamed—sharp, menacing, and ready to strike.
"No way. I won't." Ronan's expression was tinged with worry as he clung to her, clearly outmatched yet unwilling to relent.
Moments later, his grip faltered. Desperation crept into his voice as he called to Elysia, "Help me out! Elena's too strong!"
Elysia rolled her eyes as she approached. "Useless. Even weaker than a woman."
Standing near the bed, Ronan, despite being visibly flustered, defended himself. "She's the queen of the Vampire Clan—my goddess. Of course, she's stronger than me. That's not exactly shameful."
For centuries, he had loved Elena. A pure, unshakable devotion. Even now, as she thrashed uncontrollably, unable to recognize him, he refused to hurt her.
Elysia sighed in exasperation. "Damon, are you going to just stand there?"
"I'm coming," Damon replied, entering the room while drying his hands with a damp towel.
"What were you doing?" Elysia asked.
"Washing up. Sanitizing," Damon replied, handing the towel to Ronan. "Do me a favor and take this back, will you?"
"Me? Why would I take your towel?" Ronan looked utterly insulted. Humans, he thought, are so obnoxious. Especially this one, who seemed far too close to Elena.
Damon chuckled lightly. "Well, do you want me to save Elena or not?"
Caught off guard, Ronan hesitated for a moment before sighing in resignation. "Fine. But be gentle—Elena doesn't like rough men."
It was obvious he doubted this human could help Elena. After all, Ronan had spent centuries by her side, and even he couldn't stop her Frenzy—not even by offering his own blood entirely.
"Interesting. You seem to know her well," Damon said with a faint smile. He was already taking mental notes—this vampire might be useful for gathering intel later.
"Enough talking! Do something already!" Elysia's face was flushed with exertion, her shoulders trembling. She, too, was still recovering from injuries sustained the previous night.
Damon raised a brow and glanced at the towel still in Ronan's hand. "Well?"
"Fine, I'm going," Ronan muttered, storming out of the room. He still couldn't figure out why Damon was so intent on shooing him away. Humans and their secrets, he thought bitterly.
With Ronan gone, Damon turned to Elena. He extended a single, elegant finger toward her lips, his voice calm but compelling. "Drink."
Without hesitation, Elena's cold, silver eyes locked onto him. Her fangs pierced his skin with brutal precision, and she drank deeply from his blood.
Elysia was visibly stunned. "Mr. Gilbert, your methods are… bold."
Damon smirked faintly. "Human ingenuity. Best not to question it."
According to ancient texts, a Vampire Clan Frenzy was akin to burning the candle at both ends. The only way to halt it? Blood for blood. Life for life. And only human blood would suffice.
As Elena drank, the ferocity in her expression began to fade, her sharp features softening into something calmer. Once Damon was sure she was stabilized, he carefully pulled his hand away.
Using the blood still on his finger, he drew a lotus symbol on Elena's forehead. The crimson mark shimmered faintly, the edges bleeding into her pale skin like ink on paper.
But suddenly, Elena convulsed, a pained howl escaping her lips. She thrashed violently for half a minute before collapsing in Elysia's arms.
Elysia laid her on the bed and pulled the covers over her. Suspicion filled her gaze as she turned to Damon. "Who are you? How do you know how to suppress a Vampire Frenzy?"
"Me?" Damon paused for effect, then shrugged. "Just a regular human."
Ronan returned after delivering the towel, leaning against the wall as he observed Damon with a mix of suspicion and grudging respect. He exhaled quietly, his tense expression softening slightly. "Humans really do have their tricks," he remarked, his tone edged with sarcasm. "No wonder the Vampire Clan has never been able to fully conquer them."
Elysia shot Ronan a sharp glare, her voice dripping with disdain. "If you have nothing useful to say, try being quiet. No one will miss your commentary."
Ignoring the tension, Damon approached Elena's bedside. He knelt beside her, his movements calculated and precise as his fingers reached toward her hair.
Elysia frowned, stepping closer. "What are you doing?"
"You shouldn't touch her so casually!" Ronan snapped, his distrust of Damon flaring once more.
Damon's dark eyes remained cool, his lips pressed into a thin line. He worked silently, ignoring Ronan's protests. After a moment, his hand emerged with a slender, metallic needle, its tip darkened ominously.
Straightening up, Damon held it up for them to see. "This," he announced with quiet finality, "is the cause of Elena's Vampire Frenzy."
Elysia's brow furrowed in confusion. "What is it?"
Damon carefully wrapped the needle in a handkerchief before slipping it into his pocket. "A Transfiguration Needle. It forces a Vampire Clan member into an uncontrollable state. Judging by the condition, I'd say it was Soren's handiwork last night."
Ronan clenched his fists, anger flashing across his otherwise composed face. "Humans can be so vile," he hissed, his voice trembling with frustration. "To think they'd stoop this low to harm her."
Damon turned away, his voice calm but firm. "I'm going to rest. Keep the noise down." He didn't spare them another glance as he walked toward the guest room.
Ronan gritted his teeth, glaring after him. "He thinks he can just boss us around?"
"Be quiet," Elysia muttered, massaging her temples. She wasn't in the mood for Ronan's complaints.
By noon, Damon's much-needed rest was interrupted by two phone calls.
The first, at 10:30 a.m., was from Jay. His voice, though steady, carried a note of urgency. "Zia is stable now. Out of immediate danger. You can focus on your work; the hospital's under control."
Half-asleep, Damon groggily thanked him and asked for three days off. The dull ache in his chest, stemming from his knife wound, hinted at an infection. A hospital visit might be in order.
The second call, however, was far less civil. At 11:50 a.m., Mason's voice thundered through the line, dripping with outrage. "Damon, you owe me an explanation! What's with the 'sister' nonsense? And GAY? Do you have any idea how much you've tarnished my reputation?"
Mason's frustration was palpable, his tone sharp enough to make Damon wince. If Mason weren't so well-mannered, Damon suspected he'd be hearing some colorful curses aimed at his entire lineage.
Still lying on his bed, Damon lazily draped an arm over his eyes, muffling a groan. After a moment of silence, he replied, his voice smooth and composed. "Mason, how about we discuss this over a drink?"