Chapter 11

A fleet of black cars rolled onto the blood-soaked ground, their tinted windows concealing the figures inside. The air reeked of death, bodies piled high in a grotesque monument to the massacre.

Seo-yeon barely heard his name as one of the men approached. "The nobles are gone. The guards—burned."

His jaw tightened. A dragon? No, impossible. They wouldn't side with werewolves. His mind spun, lingering on Michael's escape, searching for the missing piece—

Then, movement.

One of the mangled bodies ignited without warning, flames consuming flesh until nothing remained but ash. From the smoldering remains, a woman emerged—blonde hair untouched by soot, piercing blue eyes cold as ice.

The men dropped to their knees in unison, Seo-yeon among them. "Master… we failed you," he said, his voice steady despite the weight of awaiting punishment.

She didn't answer immediately, tilting her head toward the sky as if listening to something beyond their grasp. Then, a slow, knowing smile curved her lips.

"There's no need to worry," she murmured. "It seems a new player has entered the game."

Seo-yeon lifted his gaze cautiously. "What do you mean?"

"The noble we captured…" Her smile deepened. "His power I sense is from the beyond."

In Michael's apartment, he was lounging on the sofa, one arm draped over his eyes. Thor and Chloe lay sprawled nearby, their steady breaths filling the room. Across from him, his brother Sebastian stood, watching in silence.

The silence stretched between them until Sebastian finally spoke, his voice calm and measured. "So, you want me to contact Elijah… to discuss working with the vampires?"

Michael let out a lazy yawn from the sofa. "Yeah."

Sebastian tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "May I ask why?"

Michael exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "Because something isn't right. I was kidnapped, impaled with an enchanted sword. That alone gives me reason to believe wizards are involved."

Sebastian studied him for a moment before nodding. "I'll give you his number. But I'm not the one calling him—you are."

Michael groaned in protest but begrudgingly copied the number, his fingers hovering over the screen before finally dialing.

A rich, accented voice resonated through the phone, smooth as aged wine. "Elijah speaking."

Michael forced a grin, though it did little to ease his discomfort. "Elijah, buddy! It's me, Michael. Long time, no see."

A pause. Then, a low chuckle, laced with amusement and something far more dangerous.

"Do my ears deceive me? Michael—the man who slaughtered my own—calling me? Consider me… shocked."

"Listen, Elijah, I need to speak with you in person. It's serious," Michael said, his voice hardening, eyes narrowing with urgency.

"Oh, now you've piqued my interest," Elijah replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. " I'll send you the location shortly."

The call ended, and Michael's gaze met Sebastian's, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

Sebastian's eyebrow arched slightly. "You're going alone?"

Michael didn't flinch. His expression remained unreadable, though his clenched jaw betrayed the tension simmering beneath.

"Indeed."

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He glanced down, his brow furrowing slightly as an address flashed on the screen. A club in LA. Sleek, upscale. Elijah knew exactly how to set the stage.

Michael dressed carefully in his best suit, checking his appearance before nodding at his brother, who had already returned to work. As he stepped out, a sudden realization hit him—he didn't have a car. Without a second thought, he called an Uber, tipping the driver generously as he was dropped off in front of a lavish club. The blue neon lights on the building flickered, spelling "Paradise."

He stepped inside, the heavy bass vibrating through the floor as neon lights flickered over moving bodies. The moment he crossed the threshold, a few workers exchanged glances before guiding him wordlessly toward the stairs. With each step up, the music softened, swallowed by the thick walls until only a faint thrum remained.

At the top, a dimly lit office awaited. Smoke curled lazily through the air, its scent mixing with the rich aroma of wine. Elijah stood by the window, fingers loosely curled around the stem of a glass, his other hand lifting a cigarette to his lips. He took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving the one-way glass overlooking the club below.

Without turning, he finally spoke, his voice smooth yet edged with curiosity.

"This is unexpected. Indulge me—why did you call for me?"

"You know, I didn't expect to find you in L.A.," Michael said, pulling his phone from his pocket. With a quick tap, the screen lit up, revealing an image—a katana, its blade gleaming under the light. He held it up for Elijah to see.

"But the reason I called you… do you know what this is?"

Elijah glanced at the phone, his expression unreadable. "Ah, yes… it's been, what, seven hundred years since I last saw that blade." He turned to Michael, eyes flickering with curiosity. "What of it?"

"They call it Yeonghon Samkki. I was stabbed with it once… and, surprisingly, it didn't feel all that bad."

Elijah chuckled, the sound rich with amusement. "Ah, foolish mortals. Naturally, they saw fit to name it. Yet its true name is Sálfrekr."

Michael frowned. "What now?"

Elijah turned fully to face him, his silver eyes glinting in the low light. "Sálfrekr. A blade without equal, forged in an age long lost to time—long before even the first of my kind drew breath."

"Well, they tried using it on me, but I seem to be just fine," Michael said with a shrug.

Elijah hummed, his eyes lingering on the image. "The blade feeds on weaker souls to grow stronger, allowing it to claim greater ones in time. But over the years, its power wanes." His eyes narrowed. "Yet, from this picture, it seems to be in pristine condition. The wizards must have restored it."

Michael switched off his phone, locking eyes with Elijah, his voice laced with steel. "I'm not stupid. I was attacked by a wizard in Japan. And then, out of nowhere, I get kidnapped." His expression darkened. "Something's coming. I can feel it. A war is on the horizon."

Elijah's gaze sharpened further, his eyebrow arching. "You've got more to say, don't you?"

Michael's face remained impassive as he met Elijah's stare. "I want the wolves and vampires to be allies."

Elijah's lips curled into a smirk, his voice thick with disbelief. "You must be joking."

"I'm not."

The amusement drained from Elijah's expression. He took a step closer, his voice cold, mocking. "If you're serious, you must know your father hasn't exactly given you a solid foundation. Until now, he's used his wolves to keep us in line."

Michael's jaw clenched, his determination unshaken. "I'll change that." He hesitated, the next words heavy in his chest. 

"Oh, and what do you have to offer the vampires?" Elijah's tone was laced with curiosity.

Michael inhaled sharply, as if bracing himself for the weight of his next words. "Marriage."