Ariene hummed softly as she strolled around the expansive courtyard. With her chores already completed, the silence of the big house felt too empty. She needed something to fill it. Her feet naturally led her to the garden.
Upon arriving, her cheerful expression quickly shifted into a frown. "How can such a beautiful and large garden look like this? The plants aren't watered, and the flowers... they're dying!" she muttered in dismay, gently brushing her fingers along a wilted petal. "This is maltreating nature."
Displeased, she moved to the garden's corners, eyes scanning intently. Then, spotting what she was searching for, she grinned to herself. Yes!
She retrieved the rusty gardening tools hidden under a broken stone slab and returned to the flowers, her hands moving swiftly with familiar skill. As she pruned and trimmed, a warm smile spread across her face. Just like the old days...
But the smile faltered. A single thought soured her mood—Father. Her heart tightened. She bit her lip, trying to suppress the rush of emotion. One rebellious tear slipped down her cheek.
"No more tears," she whispered fiercely, wiping it away. "I'm done crying over a man who threw me away... married someone else like I never mattered."
She sniffed hard and focused back on her flowers, humming her favorite tune. Unaware. Completely unaware of the two glowing red eyes watching her from the shadows.
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"Did you get the information I asked for?" Dashiell's voice echoed coldly as he sat behind his desk, a cigarette burning between his fingers.
"Yes, sir," his secretary answered, presenting a tablet. "Nuel now oversees five opium depots in City Aii, while his father retains control of those here. According to intel, a shipment is arriving today—noon—headed to the eastern depot. What's the move?"
Dashiell took a drag from the cigarette, eyes narrowing in thought. Silence stretched before he finally said, "Prepare the boys. We're giving them a surprise visit tonight."
"Yes, sir." The secretary hesitated. "Also, regarding the other issue—Christopher is involved. The rogue who attacked your servant? He's one of his."
"Is that so?" Dashiell exhaled smoke through his nose, lips curling in distaste. "He wants to start a war over something so petty?"
"Shall I eliminate him? I'd enjoy it," the secretary said with a sly grin.
Dashiell chuckled. "No, no. Leave that to me. It's too early for bloodshed... especially over a weak human."
"But sir—she was attacked."
"Tsk." Dashiell waved a hand dismissively. "She means nothing to me. If I start caring about every fragile human, I'll go mad. I just don't want that filthy rogue stinking up my land."
The secretary clenched his jaw but bowed respectfully. "Understood. I'll go prep the team."
As he vanished, Dashiell stood, shrugging on his jacket. His expression shifted into a dark grin. "Time for a little visit."
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In the heart of a thick forest at the city's edge, a black SUV rolled to a stop. A man dressed in all black stepped out, closing the door with a soft click. He stood still, peering into the distance with a sinister smile.
Inside a run-down apartment nearby, a rogue vampire burst into the room. "Sir! Dashiell—he's here!"
Christopher sat up sharply. His eyes narrowed as Dashiell strolled in, uninvited, as bold as ever.
"Eh? That frown! Not happy to see an old friend?" Dashiell teased.
"What do you want, Dashiell?" Christopher snapped, unmoved by the mockery.
"Offer me a drink," Dashiell demanded casually.
"You don't give orders in my place," Christopher growled. "Say what you came for."
"Fine," Dashiell said with a shrug. "Keep your dirty rogues away from my estate. If they come sniffing around again, I'll tear them apart—like the old days."
Christopher's eyes flickered with something—uncertainty. A memory, perhaps. The past came rushing back. Dashiell, once the timid, tearful runt. Easy to beat, easy to break.
Until Stephine came into the picture.
It had been on one blood-soaked night that the tables turned. Dashiell had killed five of Christopher's strongest rogues, ripping their heads off like petals from a stem. Christopher fled that night... and never dared cross paths again.
Shaking the memory off, Christopher hissed, "My rogues had no hand in it. You don't have to believe me, but it's the truth."
"I don't care," Dashiell replied flatly. "Control your mongrels—or I'll exterminate them."
With that, he turned and left, leaving Christopher clenching his fists in silence.
Night fell like a curtain, cloaking the city in darkness. Dashiell moved with his group—Stephine and the other vampires—through shadows, unseen by human eyes.
They arrived just in time.
A shipment was being offloaded at the depot. Dashiell stepped forward calmly, addressing the man in charge.
"Do you mind if I take a look at your goods?"
The man spun around, eyes widening at the sight of Dashiell. Guns were raised instantly.
"What the hell are you doing here, Dashiell?!"
Dashiell smirked. "What, no warm welcome?"
"I said—what the fuck do you want?! Speak before my men blow your head off."
Stephine moved, but Dashiell held up a hand, halting him. The tension rose like a thick fog.
"You gonna fight me?" the man scoffed. "With bare hands? You're outnumbered, fool."
Dashiell's grin widened. His eyes glowed crimson.
"What the hell are you—?" the man choked, panic flooding his face.
"You'll know soon enough."
Suddenly, the men's hands began to tremble. Guns turned against their own heads. Terror blossomed in their eyes.
"I—can't control my body!" one screamed. "What's happening?!"
"Safe trip to hell," Dashiell whispered.
The triggers were pulled. Gunfire exploded like a deadly choir. Silence followed.
Inside the depot, the vampires dragged the corpses in. Flames erupted, devouring everything—drugs, evidence, lives.
Outside, Dashiell stood motionless, watching the inferno reflect in his eyes.
"We're done here," he said, turning his back on the blaze. "Let's go."
And like shadows, they vanished into the night.