Despair and agony were the only protagonists in that tragic scene. Seconds stretched into minutes, and those minutes became infinite hours of profound sorrow.

  Yuna felt as if her mind were about to explode; her vision blurred, and everything around her wavered. In those moments of affliction, when she felt her soul separating from her body and sensed her impending end, only two people came to her mind: her sweet, wonderful sister and… that elegant man with coppery hair.

  But why? Why did his image surface in her final moments? Was it true, after all, that she was the founder of that vampiric clan, and that was why all this was happening to her? Regardless of the reason, her anguished heart cried out for salvation. For the first time, she fervently wished to be rescued by him.

  “Please…” she rasped with a broken voice, her final breath escaping her lips as she hoped someone would hear her pleas while her boss approached her.

  Suddenly, a flame appeared behind her, gradually growing until it took on a human form. It grabbed Yuna by the arms. Though she wasn’t entirely aware of what was happening, the fire surrounding her was warm and hopeful—emotions she had felt before. That potent aroma of moss and wood, which soothed yet ignited every part of her being, was unmistakable.

  “Help me…” the young woman pleaded, her face drenched in tears, to the flames sheltering her as they began to take on a human shape.

  “Give me that gem,” Vincent demanded of Devon in an authoritative tone as the last remnants of fire dissipated from his form, keeping close to Yuna.

  “Are you going to take it from me yourself?” Devon retorted disdainfully, elegantly turning his left hand to make the stone float toward him.

  Vincent needed clarity and a priority for his actions; first, he had to eliminate what was destabilizing the young woman and then get her out of there. With these objectives in mind, he gently approached Yuna’s trembling body to whisper in her ear:

  “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  With those words, he moved away from her and charged toward Devon, determination in his eyes, which now burned a fiery red. The eldest of the Dokovics swung a fist engulfed in flames at Devon, but the latter effortlessly blocked it with his free hand, not moving an inch from his spot.

  “Is this all you’ve got?” Devon sneered arrogantly, gripping Vincent’s fist tightly while levitating the gem with his other hand.

  Ignoring Devon’s continuous taunts, Vincent continued to attack with all his might. A high, flame-coated kick aimed at Devon’s face was once again stopped effortlessly by the same hand, without Devon moving from his position.

  “I’ve been overestimating you all these years…” Devon added with a smirk as he lowered the gem into his palm, squeezing it until it vanished. “It’s time to settle the score with you.”

  He shoved Vincent’s leg aside, hurling him into the wall. Vincent fell to the ground but quickly stood back up, wiping the blood from his mouth caused by the impact.

  He wouldn’t give up. Swiftly, in the blink of an eye, he lunged back toward Devon. Grabbing him by the collar, Vincent violently hurled him across the room, slamming him against a window. Their bodies lay atop the shattered glass.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Even with the advantage, Devon’s taunts and mocking laughter continued. Though injured from the shards embedded in his body, his arrogance remained intact—he was confident of his victory.

  Despite being a firstborn, Vincent had spent centuries without feeding on "fresh blood" directly from a human. Kassandra's clan had chosen to coexist with humanity to preserve their legacy, making decisions that impacted their quality of life. They relied exclusively on blood bags intended for transfusions, avoiding direct contact with humans. This created a vast power gap between the two families, as the others had never ceased consuming "fresh blood."

  “Is that all you can do?” Devon taunted as his wounds began to heal. “What a disappointment.”

  “There’s one thing you didn’t account for,” Vincent replied, holding his enemy’s torso at the edge of the precipice.

  “What?”

  “Dawn is breaking,” he added with a half-smile as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon.

  Devon tilted his head to confirm Vincent’s words. As the sunlight touched his body, burns appeared on his skin, which began to crack like shattered porcelain. Agonizing screams of pain escaped his lips, and a satisfied smile spread across Vincent's face.

  “Virus!” Devon bellowed in rage.

  A black shadow emerged behind Vincent, forcing him to back away from the agonizing man to avoid being struck. Quickly, Vincent positioned himself in front of Yuna to shield her from any attack. However, the shadow didn’t retaliate. Instead, it surrounded the crumbling Devon, gradually vanishing along with him.

  “This is only the beginning…” the disintegrating man declared as he disappeared completely.

  Finally, silence claimed the room. Yuna had lost consciousness, her body lying motionless on the floor behind Vincent. He approached her, removed his jacket, and draped it over her shoulders before lifting her into his arms.

  As he exited through the door, Patrick stood frozen, staring at Nasai’s unconscious body in the distance.

  “Take her; she’s her sister,” Vincent said to his brother, who remained dazed. “If we leave her here, we’ll never forgive ourselves.”

  ━━━━━━???━━━━━━

  The night had given way to day—a clear morning that ushered in a sense of calm. The garden of the Dokovic mansion glistened, adorned with the last drops of water lingering on the shrubs.

  The two brothers made their way to the entrance, passing through the massive black iron gate, each carrying an unconscious sister in their arms.

  “How did it go?” Ronnie asked as he waited at the mansion’s entrance.

  “Where were you?” Vincent countered; his tone sharp as he carried Yuna.

  “Well… we had to get her friend out of there, or they would’ve used her as bait. Annie made sure she wouldn’t remember anything. My back’s killing me from carrying her,” Ronnie explained, rubbing his back in an exaggeratedly playful manner.

  “That’s because you’re always in that ridiculous child form,” Annie reprimanded without tearing her gaze from Patrick.

  Annie had noticed how the younger Dokovic brother carried Nasai with extreme care. His eyes remained fixed on her, and his face was only inches away from Nasai’s unconscious features. Annie didn’t know why, but a pang of unease coursed through her at the sight of them together.

  “It’s more practical. I use less energy, so my hunger is easier to manage,” Ronnie justified.

  “Sussy, prepare two rooms,” Vincent ordered.

  “Just one,” Patrick corrected, his voice firm, his gaze never leaving Nasai. “I’ll keep her in my quarters.”

  “Ooh, sly one. What are you planning to do with her?” Ronnie teased with his usual playful tone.

  Patrick’s silence was so absolute that he didn’t even register Ronnie’s joke. Without a word, he started toward his chamber, carrying the young woman in his arms, leaving the others to exchange puzzled and uneasy looks as they watched him go.