The sheer hostility and rage radiating from John were enough to make the air in the area feel heavy.
Just before Nikolas could make sense of the frantic warning or the threat, John spun slightly, pointing his free hand toward Luke, Elena, and Ben.
"Make sure to keep them safe while I'm gone," John commanded, his eyes burning with a desperate clarity.
"Safe?" Luke was startled, his brow furrowed in confusion. "From what exactly? John, you're not making sense!"
"Mark."
The moment John uttered that single name, the atmosphere changed instantly. The confusion on Elena's and Luke's faces vanished, replaced by a haunting, crystalline terror that quickly hardened into combat readiness.
They didn't need to hear another word. They didn't ask for context. The two of them acted in a singular, terrifying unison; Luke reached and took out his massive, heavy club.
