THE DAMNED

—>DAMON'S POV<—

I was infamous among my kind— a rogue Vampire, feared and reviled. But what many didn't know was that I harbored a secret; a loyal army of Vampires, sworn to follow me into the shadows. 

Unlike the Werewolves, who thrived in packs, Vampires were notorious loners. Yet, I had managed to assemble a formidable force, bound by blood and loyalty. Few suspected the truth, and even fewer knew the extent of my power.

My army had a secret sanctuary, a subterranean stronghold known as 'The Compound'. Hidden beneath the earth, it provided us with a safe haven from the deadly sunlight. As the ancient lore foretold, we Vampires were bound to the shadows, our skin incinerated by the sun's rays. Nightfall was our domain, and under its cover, we could move undetected among humans.

For centuries, our kind had thrived on the lifeblood of humans. However, the Seraphlings, with their righteous fervor, condemned our existence and the source of our sustenance. This fundamental disagreement sparked an eternal conflict between our species, a war that had raged unabated for millennia.

As I wandered down Williams Boulevard, the moon's gentle light cast a silver glow on the wet pavement, releasing the sweet scent of blooming magnolias into the crisp night air. The soft chirping of crickets and the distant hum of the city created a soothing melody that accompanied my footsteps.

This street had become a sanctuary for me, a place where I could find solace in the presence of someone special— a human who had captivated my fangs and become my cherished blood-bag. The warmth of the streetlights cast a golden light on her window, beckoning me closer.

She remained blissfully unaware of my true nature, for after each feeding, I would compel her to forget our encounters. This rare gift was reserved for vampires who had walked the earth for over a century, and I was one of the privileged few. With a mere thought, I could erase my existence from her mind, leaving her with no memory of our time together.

As I approached the door, the broken knob caught my attention, its shattered remains a stark departure from the intact handle I'd grown accustomed to. 

I drew a deep breath, honing my senses to the environment, straining to detect even the faintest whisper of movement within the building. But the silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the absence of a familiar heartbeat— my toy's rhythmic pulse, which should have been beating steadily within. A shiver coursed through me; something was amiss.

It was 2:00 AM, the dead of night, and she was nowhere to be found. I had explicitly compelled her to return home before this ungodly hour, ensuring her obedience. Yet, here I stood, facing an unsettling stillness, my mind racing with the ominous implications of her defiance.

I needed to investigate this. Who could have dared to mess with my toy? I pushed open the door and what greeted me was the familiar shining chandelier and the strange blood marks left on the floor. I could see these police yellow tapes used to seal an environment surrounding the entire room. 

My toy was dead, I didn't need to be told. A surge of fury coursed through me as I lashed out at the nearby sofa, kicking it with supernatural strength. The furniture scraped against the floor, sliding unnaturally out of place. Seething with rage and frustration, I decided to withdraw from the building and find a human outlet for my wrath.

Just as I was about to make my move, the door burst open and seven Seraphlings stormed in, guns at the ready. I instinctively retreated a few steps, my eyes locking onto the lead figure adorned with the insignia of Kaptan. The presence of a Kaptan meant more Seraphlings were likely stationed outside, severely diminishing my chances of escape.

I would have relished a battle with these Seraphlings, but the cramped room made it impractical. Instead, I sprang upward, launching myself into the air. Without a word to these hunters, I soared toward the roof, bursting through the wooden planks with explosive force. Splinters and debris rained down to the ground, shattered remnants of the roof that had failed to contain me.

As I stood on the roof, my white t-shirt and black pants were already stained with various splatters. I swiftly scanned my surroundings, taking in the layout of the area. Without hesitation, I leaped down from the roof, but my descent was met with a sudden burst of pain. A bullet had struck my left leg, and I could feel my strength waning ever so slightly— a telltale sign of a silver bullet.

I spun around to face my attacker, and my eyes locked onto the female Kaptan from earlier. It seemed that as soon as I had jumped onto the roof, she and her team had swiftly exited the building to intercept me. Their swift response caught me off guard, and I realized I had underestimated their tactical prowess.

As a Vampire, I possessed an inherent advantage in speed, one that far surpassed the Seraphlings' rune-enhanced velocities. Even an ancient Vampire like myself, weathered by the ages, could outrun them with ease. Shrugging off the lingering pain from the silver bullet, I launched into a blistering sprint, my feet pounding the pavement in a blurry rhythm.

But my exhilaration was short-lived. Just as I began to revel in the rush of speed, a sleek black car careened around the corner, its tires screeching in protest. Before I could react, the vehicle slammed into me with a bone-jarring force. The world around me dissolved into a chaotic blur— the silver bullet's searing pain, the car's crushing impact, and the cacophony of shattering glass and crunching metal.

A cacophony of agony assaulted my senses, a maelstrom of pain that threatened to consume me. The car's impact had sent me crashing into a wall, the rough brick scraping against my skin like sandpaper. I groggily struggled to my feet, my head spinning from the collision. The world around me was a blur, colors bleeding together like watercolors on wet paper.

Just as I stumbled forward, three bullets tore through the air, their sharp cracks echoing off the walls. I reflexively shifted to the left, dodging the first two by mere inches. The whizzing projectiles left my ears ringing, the sound waves reverberating through my skull. 

But my earlier ordeal had left me disoriented, my usual lightning-quick reflexes dulled. The third bullet struck my chest with a sickening thud, its impact sending a shockwave through my torso. The searing pain told me the bullet had lodged mere inches from my heart, a cold, hard presence that seemed to be sucking the life out of me.

Escape was imperative, but my weakened state made it a daunting prospect. As I summoned the strength to move, fourteen Seraphlings closed in, encircling me with calculated precision. The female Kaptan stood at the forefront, her eyes fixed intently on me. Beside her, the driver of the car that had rammed into me emerged, his shiny bald head reflecting the moon's silvery glow. My gaze drifted to the insignia on his uniform, confirming my suspicion— he too was a Kaptan.

The presence of two Kaptans signaled a dire reality— two Birliks had joined forces against me. A single Birlik was already a formidable opponent, capable of taking down an Alpha or a Vampire like myself. But two Birliks? The odds were insurmountable. Without my army by my side, escape seemed impossible. I was trapped, surrounded by an enemy force that outnumbered and outmatched me. Though I could only see fourteen Seraphlings, I suspected that the remaining eight were lurking nearby, positioned to cut off any potential escape routes.

"The odds are clearly against you," the bald Kaptan said, his voice detached. "Why not submit?" His gaze locked onto mine, searching for a glimmer of weakness. "And, according to our intelligence, the resident of that house was entangled with you, wasn't she? When she was alive, that is."

I shifted my attention to the female Kaptan, but her eyes betrayed no interest in our conversation. Instead, her gaze drifted over my shoulder, as if she was expecting someone— or something. Her expression was a mask of calm anticipation, a subtle tension underlying her serene features.

"She was mine, a plaything in life, but I did not take her life," I declared, my voice steady and resolute. "Whoever did will face my wrath, and I will uncover their identity, no matter the cost." As I spoke, my strength slowly began to seep back into my veins, though the silver bullets still lodged in my body hindered my full recovery.

The bald Kaptan's voice dripped with sadistic relish as he declared, "For forcibly controlling a mundane's life, we'll mete out justice on her behalf. Do you have any last words?" His eyes gleamed with anticipation, mirroring the eagerness to strike in the gazes of the Seraphlings surrounding me.

However, the female Kaptan stood out as an anomaly. Her attention seemed divided, her focus not entirely on the hunt. Her grip on her gun was relaxed, her fingers curled around it with a looseness that belied the tension in the air. Her gaze drifted, as if she was waiting for something, or someone else to arrive on the scene.

As I weighed my options, I realized that if those bullets had struck my heart, I would have been a goner. With a burst of adrenaline, I decided to seize the distracted Kaptan. My legs sprang into action, propelled by a surge of determination.

The air was filled with the sharp cracks of gunfire as the Kaptans reacted with lightning speed. Two bullets tore into my stomach, their impact a searing blaze of pain. Another bullet, fired by an Asker, struck my hand, the shockwave coursing through my arm like a jolt of electricity.

Despite the agony, my will to survive proved unyielding. I pushed through the pain, my focus fixed on capturing the Kaptan. In a flash, I closed the distance and grasped her neck, my right hand coiling around it like a vice.

In mere seconds, the scene had unfolded: three new injuries and a hostage. I stood tall, the Kaptan's neck firmly in my grip, as I glared at the Seraphlings surrounding me. The air was heavy with tension, the only sound the Kaptan's ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city.

"We both die together, if you shoot," I warned, my voice ringing out despite the tremble that underscored my words. Grunts of pain escaped my lips, betraying the agony that threatened to consume.

"It seems you underestimate the ruthlessness of my kind," the bald Kaptan sneered, his eyes glinting with a merciless light. "Section 2, Code 10 is clear: every prey must be exterminated, regardless of the cost in hunters' lives. I, Peter, will not hesitate."

As he spoke, my right arm constricted around the female Kaptan's neck, my fingers synchronized with her ragged breaths. Her body was a human shield, locked in a tight, unyielding grasp with mine.

My supernatural strength proved too much for her to overcome, despite my own weakened state. The female Kaptan struggled to break free, but my grip remained unyielding, her efforts futile against my preternatural power.

Peter, the bald captain, raised his right arm, fist clenched, before speaking in a tone that was almost playful. "Stand down, everyone. I was just kidding earlier. Margaret is a dear friend, irreplaceable to me. You," he said, his gaze flicking to me, "are free to go, vermin."

His demeanor was jarringly casual, as if the codes that governed his kind were nothing more than a distant afterthought.

I was taken aback, having encountered numerous Seraphlings before who would stop at nothing to eliminate their prey. But this bald Seraphling was a rare exception. His unexpected display of compassion stayed my hand, and I swiftly decided to release Margaret, seizing the opportunity to make a swift escape.

Just then, a guttural voice thundered through the air, its raw intensity amplified by the howling wind. "Impossible!" it bellowed, the word echoing through the turbulent atmosphere like a challenge.