THE PRICE OF MERCY

—>MARGARET'S POV<—

I struggled to break free from the vampire's grip on my neck, but it was futile. Even in his weakened state, he still possessed remarkable strength. Peter agreed to have our group lower their weapons, which didn't surprise me, as he's been my best friend since childhood. However, I knew he would face consequences when we returned to HQ.

Just as the deal was about to be finalized, a guttural voice boomed out, sending a shiver down my spine. The voice was unmistakably familiar. I turned to Isaiah and Christianah, and saw that they too were shocked, their faces mirroring my own surprise.

He was the same creature we'd encountered on our last hunt. We turned as one, our gazes locking onto the source of the voice. That's when the mysterious man emerged from the shadows. All eyes were drawn to his impeccably tailored brown suit, and the brown fedora hat perched atop his head. But it was his eyes that held my attention. Unlike our previous encounter, they weren't gleaming gold — instead, they seemed a deep, muted brown.

"Why are the hunters of this era not ruthless enough?" His voice was low and menacing, sending a shiver down my spine. His gaze fell upon Peter, piercing and unyielding, as he walked closer with deliberate, heavy footsteps that echoed through the silence. The air seemed to thicken with tension as he approached. He halted mere meters away from our group, his eyes never leaving Peter's face. The faint scent of leather and smoke clung to him, mixing with the metallic tang of the night air.

Peter's tone was laced with amusement, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And who might you be? You didn't sound too thrilled about the Vampire's release earlier. What's your stake in this?" He raised an eyebrow, his expression playful, as if he didn't take the stranger seriously.

Just as I was about to caution Peter against provoking the stranger, the man's gaze shifted abruptly to me, dismissing Peter with an air of disdain, as if he were nothing more than a nuisance. "It's been a few days, and yet here you are, entangled in another precarious situation that requires my expertise," he said, his voice low and measured. "Fate seems to have woven our paths together. Observe the stars above us; our destiny is etched in the celestial map."

"Enough of this nonsense!" The Vampire spat, his voice laced with urgency. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded, his grip on my neck tightening like a vice. I winced in pain as his claws dug deeper into my flesh, drawing out a trickle of blood that tickled down my skin.

The stranger's voice cut through the air, his tone dripping with disdain. "You're hurting the young woman. Truly, you're a malevolent creature." His gaze narrowed, his eyes glinting with a cold, calculating intensity. "Release her, and I'll grant you a 10-second head start. But that's all the mercy you'll get from me." A chill smile spread across his lips, his expression unnervingly serene.

As he spoke, he removed the brown fedora hat, revealing a brown buzz cut underneath. The gesture seemed almost casual, but it only added to the sense of calculated menace that surrounded him.

Peter's face reddened with indignation. "We're the hunters here. Who are you to swoop in and take over our operation?" His voice rose, echoing the growing resentment of our group. The others exchanged irate glances, their faces set in scowls. "And who exactly do you think you are, anyway?" Peter demanded, his tone dripping with hostility.

"Hunting is a passion that can become an obsession." His gaze swept over us, his expression disdainful. 'You consider yourselves hunters? I think not. You lack the values, the conviction, and the ruthlessness that defines a true hunter.'

His eyes seemed to burn with an inner intensity as he continued, "If any of you had pulled the trigger to kill this creature, regardless of the cost, I would have regarded you with some respect. But instead, you all planned to let him go, simply because he held your teammate captive?" His voice dripped with contempt.

As he spoke, his brownish eyes underwent a startling transformation, shifting to a piercing gold in an instant. The effect was unnerving, as if his very soul was blazing with a fierce, primal energy.

We were all stunned by the ferocity he displayed. Just a minute ago, he seemed incensed by the Vampire's brutal treatment of me, and we'd assumed he was a good man. But his scathing retort, condemning our team's refusal to sacrifice me, left us reeling. Whose side was he on, exactly? It seemed he took no sides, and I couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't care about me at all. His ruthless words echoed the merciless hunters that lurked in the shadows of our society.

As his eyes flashed golden, my group's instincts kicked in, and they swiftly raised their guns, training them on the stranger. Peter's anger had reached a boiling point, his finger trembling on the trigger, ready to gun down the proud stranger without hesitation.

Despite the searing pain from the Vampire's grip, I forced out a plea, "Peter, wait! He means no harm."

As I spoke, the suffocating grip on my neck vanished, and I felt a rush of cool air dance across my skin. The sudden release left me gasping, my lungs expanding with gratitude. That could only mean one thing— the Vampire had seized the distraction to slip away, escaping into the shadows as the bulk of my group's attention fell upon the stranger.

Unexpectedly, the stranger didn't give chase, despite his evident loathing for the Vampire. Instead, he stood tall, his eyes fixed intently on some point in the distance, and began to count aloud. It was then that I recalled his earlier statement; he had promised to give the Vampire a 10-second head start. To my surprise, he seemed determined to honor that promise, his words not just an empty boast.

Just as the stranger's count reached nine, the air was shattered by the crack of two gunshots. My heart racing, I struggled to process the swift sequence of events. Then, in slow motion, I saw two silver bullet hurtle towards the stranger, striking him squarely in the chest. The impact was unmistakable— the bullet had found its mark, piercing his heart.

A collective gasp echoed through our group, followed by an oppressive silence. The stranger's eyes widened, his pupils constricting in shock as he stumbled backwards.

The sound of his labored breathing was the only noise that broke the stillness. I could almost smell the metallic tang of blood and gunpowder hanging in the air. The potency of the silver bullet was undeniable; any supernatural creature struck in the heart would succumb to its lethal power.

The shooter was Peter. I was stunned, unsure of what had driven him to pull the trigger. But as I glanced at his expression, I could hazard a guess. His eyes still blazed with anger, his jaw set in a hard line. But as I pondered his motives, I couldn't help but wonder; was his action justified, or had he simply given in to his temper?