Ethan stepped into the man's car after compelling him, slamming the door with a cold finality. Without hesitation, he drove off, eyes narrowed and sharp as a blade. His destination: a forgotten town known as Beetles.
It wasn't a place for vampires.
It was a den of werewolves—reckless, violent, and hostile to outsiders.
But Ethan didn't flinch.
By the time he arrived, night had deepened. Neon lights flickered from the town's only active building—a rundown pub teeming with noise and the heavy stench of blood, beer, and fur.
He pulled into the dusty parking lot and stepped out, the chill wind brushing against his coat as music blared from within.
Inside, the pub throbbed with chaos. Werewolves danced, drank, fought, and laughed, the floor sticky with spilled liquor. It reeked of sweat, smoke, and primal instinct. No one noticed the vampire in their midst. Not yet.
Ethan made his way to the bar counter, ignoring the curious glares and half-drunken stares.
The bartender...a red-haired woman with tattoos snaking down her exposed arms and a silver hoop on her lip,smirked as he approached.
"Well, well," she purred. "What a hot snack."
"Where's your basement?" Ethan asked coolly, ignoring the flirtation.
Her smile faltered for a second. She placed a name tag on the counter with a theatrical flair.
"Basement's in use, sweetheart."
He read the name. "Vera," he said flatly. "Don't play games. Take me there. Now."
Her eyes narrowed, but his quiet authority cut through the air.
"...Fine," she finally muttered. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
She slipped out from behind the bar and led him through a side door. The hallway behind the pub was damp and dim, the floor creaking beneath their steps. Stained stairs led down to an underground chamber that reeked of rot.
"I wouldn't take a man like you down here for free," she whispered with a flirtatious smirk. "He's a big, bad wolf, you know."
"I've met worse."
They descended into the grim space that looked more like a slaughterhouse than a prison. Blood stains marred the walls. Rats scurried in the corners.
The deeper they went, the colder it got.
Eventually, they reached a thick wooden door. Vera stopped.
"Good luck, vampire," she said, stepping aside. "You're on your own now."
Ethan opened the door and stepped into a long corridor. At the far end stood two werewolf guards seated on crates, smoking lazily under a flickering bulb. They didn't notice him at first.
The place was silent—soundproof.
Perfect.
As Ethan walked forward, one of the guards, a bald man with a snake tattoo crawling across his head, stood up.
"Who the hell are you?" he barked.
Ethan smirked. "Seen a little angel pass through here? Pretty eyes, bruised wrists?"
Both guards stiffened, exchanging a glance.
Then, without warning, they lunged.
But they weren't fast enough.
Ethan moved like lightning, ducking under the first strike, grabbing the second by the throat, slamming him into the wall. With brutal precision, he ended it. Heads rolled to the floor in seconds.
"Vampire!" one of them had managed to shout...before silence swallowed them.
Ethan wiped the blood off his hands with a white kerchief, then kicked open the next door.
Inside, he found Michael crouched beside Emily.
Tending to her wounds.
The sight made Ethan pause...but only for a second. Rage surged.
He flew forward and shoved Michael aside like a rag doll.
"Ethan!" Emily gasped, eyes wide with relief.
Michael stumbled back, eyes narrowing. "Boyfriend?" he guessed with a smirk.
Ethan didn't answer. He was already at Emily's side, untying her from the chair.
She threw her arms around him, trembling.
"Are you hurt?" he whispered urgently.
"A little... but I'm okay," she murmured.
When Ethan turned back, Michael was gone.
"Let's just go," Emily pleaded, not wanting to witness what Ethan might do next.
He nodded, understanding. Some parts of him weren't meant for her to see.
Scooping her into his arms, he moved swiftly through the back exit.
The cold night air bit at their skin. Emily curled into his warmth, still shaken from the pain, the fear, the hopelessness.
He gently placed her in the passenger seat of the stolen car.
"It's so late," she murmured, leaning back.
Ethan got into the driver's seat, the engine already humming.
"Why didn't you call me?" he asked quietly.
Emily turned to him, guilt and sadness swirling in her eyes.
"He knew about the vampires," she whispered. "I was scared. I couldn't risk it."
"We could've compelled them," Ethan muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on the wheel.
He sped down the high road, driving fast toward the city's hospital. The world blurred around them...just lights, trees, wind.
⸻
Beetles Hospital wasn't much to look at...grimy, outdated, with tired nurses and slow machines. But it was all they had.
Ethan carried Emily inside, refusing a stretcher. Doctors rushed to assess her, overwhelmed by her bruises and burns.
"She's lucky to have no broken bones," the doctor said after checking her. "Minor injuries, mostly. With rest, she'll recover well."
Ethan stayed by her side the whole time.
When a young nurse kept giggling and trying to catch his eye, Emily glared.
She's literally watching him while I'm injured? She thought bitterly.
Once alone in the ward, Emily sighed. "I'm going to be fine, you heard them," she smiled gently.
Ethan leaned in, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. "I was terrified," he admitted.
She softened. "I know."
"I'm sorry you got dragged into this."
"I don't think I was dragged," she said quietly. "I think fate placed me right where I need to be."
Their eyes met.
The room quieted.
The hospital may have smelled like antiseptic, and the world outside was full of monsters, but in that moment, all Emily felt was warmth burning, slow, certain.