CHAPTER 386: WE’VE GOT COMPANY

(Third Person).

Meredith turned and walked toward the door. The faint click of her boots echoed through the corridor, each step measured and steady.

As she stepped out, the door opposite hers opened almost at the same time. Draven emerged, dressed in his battle attire—all black, his presence radiating calm power.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them seemed to still.

Without a word, he reached out his hand.

Meredith smiled, slipping her fingers into his. His grip was warm and steady. Together, they descended the staircase, the muted thud of their boots blending in rhythm.

Halfway down, Draven’s teasing voice broke the quiet. "You smell nice," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

Meredith chuckled under her breath, glancing at him from the side. "Is that supposed to kill my nerves?"

He looked down at her with that faint, confident smile, the one that always made her heartbeat stumble. "Did it work?"

She let out a soft exhale that might have been a laugh. "Barely."

---

The night air met them the moment the mansion doors swung open—crisp, cool, and faintly electric under the weight of the full moon.

A line of warriors stood ready beside the parked cars, their postures sharp, disciplined.

Each of them bowed their heads slightly as Draven and Meredith stepped out, the sight of their Alpha and Luna together drawing silent respect.

Dennis was already waiting by the second car, his expression a mixture of anticipation and impatience. "About time," he muttered with a crooked grin when he saw them approaching.

Draven didn’t rise to the bait; he simply gave a short nod to his brother. "Everyone knows what to do."

"Yes, Alpha," Dennis said, his smirk fading into a professional calm as he opened the back door of his car.

Draven turned to Meredith, his dark eyes glinting faintly under the moonlight. "Stay close when we arrive. Don’t stray from my side unless I tell you."

"I won’t," she promised.

He held her gaze for a heartbeat longer before guiding her toward their car. The warrior-driver bowed before opening the door for them.

Meredith slid in first, the faint scent of leather and steel filling her senses. Draven followed, settling beside her, his hand instinctively finding hers again.

Dennis climbed into the second car behind them. Engines hummed to life almost in unison—low and restrained, as though even the machines knew to keep their silence tonight.

As they rolled out of the gates, the moonlight spilt over the convoy, two black vehicles gliding down the long, winding drive that cut through the estate grounds.

Meredith’s gaze shifted to Draven. His profile was sharp against the moonlight, his expression composed, but she could feel the restrained energy beneath his calm exterior.

The Alpha in him was awake, ready and waiting.

---

Some minutes later, the two cars slowed to a stop at the edge of the Western Woods. The tall trees stood like ancient sentinels, their leaves whispering secrets under the cold glow of the full moon.

The air was heavy, thick with the scent of moss and the faint trace of blood that lingered on the wind.

Meredith stared out the window, her stomach twisting. Of all places, she hadn’t expected this—a vampire hunt in the woods. Somehow, it felt more ominous than the streets of Duskmoor itself.

She turned toward Draven, her brows knitting. ’This place feels wrong,’ she thought, her pulse quickening.

Draven was already stepping out of the car. He moved with his usual calm confidence, closing the door quietly before circling around to open hers.

At that same moment, Dennis’s car pulled up behind them. Dennis stepped out, his eyes gleaming with anticipation, a grin spreading across his face as he took in the looming forest.

"I can’t believe this is where we are hunting a vampire tonight," he said, almost laughing. "What a perfect place for a nightmare."

Meredith didn’t share his enthusiasm. The woods stretched endlessly, cloaked in shadow. The night wind carried a low, unsettling hum that made her skin prickle.

Draven reached out a hand. "Come on," he said.

She took it, stepping out of the car and meeting his steady gaze. His presence grounded her a little, even as unease coiled in her chest.

Without a word, Draven reached into his pocket and brought out a small glass spray bottle. He began misting her shoulders, her neck, her clothes.

Meredith frowned. The scent hit her immediately. It was familiar, subtle, distinctly human. Her very own creation.

"That’s the fragrance I made," she said, her tone curious.

"Yes." Draven nodded, spraying himself next. "The same one."

"What’s the point of smelling like humans when the vampires we are about to attack would already know we are werewolves?" Meredith tilted his head, clearly confused

"It is so when we capture one, the ones who will come searching will follow the human scent straight to the government house, already thinking it was the humans who attacked," Draven explained as he tossed the bottle to Dennis.

Dennis’s grin widened as he caught it. "What a clever move, brother."

The warriors standing nearby exchanged faint smirks as Dennis passed the bottle around. Each one took a quick spray before one of them opened the trunk of the car.

Inside, weapons gleamed beneath the moonlight—silver-forged blades, axes, and other deadly tools of war.

Draven glanced toward Meredith. "Which one will it be?"

She hesitated, her gaze flicking between the weapons. Then, her expression went still, her eyes slightly distant as Valmora’s calm voice echoed in her mind.

"Take the sword."

Meredith frowned inwardly. "It’s been a while since I last practiced with one."

"The sword will keep your hands clean," Valmora replied smoothly. "Unless, of course, you would prefer to tear through their chests and pull their hearts out yourself."

At that, Meredith reached forward quickly and grabbed the sword, its silver edge flashing faintly under the moon. "

This one," she simply said and stepped aside.

Draven’s lips curved slightly in amusement. Dennis let out a low whistle as he picked up two heavy axes from the trunk.

"Looks like someone’s ready to play warrior."

Draven came to stand beside Meredith, watching the way she held the sword. He reached out and gently corrected her grip.

"A little looser," he said quietly. "If you strike stiff, you will lose your balance. Either take the head clean off or drive the blade through the heart, twist it until the pulse stops."

Meredith exhaled softly. "Understood."

Draven nodded once, satisfied. He turned toward the rest. "Choose your weapons."

When everyone was armed, Dennis shut the trunk with a solid thud. The sound echoed faintly through the woods.

Then, Draven motioned for the two warriors to stay behind. "Wait here," he ordered, his voice low but firm. "Guard the cars. No one comes in after us unless I give the signal."

"Yes, Alpha," they both replied, standing watch beside the vehicles.

Then, without another word, Draven turned and faced the dark line of trees before them. The moonlight fell through the branches like silver threads, bathing the woods in an eerie half-light.

Meredith swallowed as she stared into the endless stretch of shadow and mist. The air was colder here and heavier, filled with something primal that whispered of blood and old hunger.

Dennis whistled under his breath. "If I didn’t know better, I would say this place is breathing."

Draven didn’t respond. He simply began walking, his steps silent and deliberate.

Meredith fell into step beside him, her sword gleaming faintly in her grip, while Dennis followed behind, both axes resting against his shoulders.

The deeper they went, the thicker the air became. Every sound seemed amplified—the crackle of branches underfoot, the rustle of unseen movement in the distance, the rhythmic beat of their hearts echoing faintly in their ears.

Meredith’s eyes darted from one dark shape to another. "Are you sure this is where we will find one?" she whispered.

Draven’s expression didn’t change. "Vampires are drawn to stillness before the kill. They like the quiet before they strike."

Dennis grinned faintly. "Then they picked the wrong night for quiet."

They continued in silence, each step drawing them deeper into the woods until the air turned metallic, tinged with the scent of dried blood.

Draven lifted a hand, signalling for them to stop. Meredith froze instantly, her heartbeat thudding in her throat.

He tilted his head slightly, listening. The faintest rustle of movement came from somewhere ahead—soft, quick, almost human, but too light to be mortal.

Dennis’s fingers tightened around his axes. "We’ve got company," he murmured.

Draven didn’t move. His voice was calm, barely above a whisper. "One of them. Maybe two."

Meredith’s grip on her sword tightened. Every nerve in her body was alive now, sharp and alert.

Just then, a low hiss split through the trees, feral, cold, and inhuman. Then, from the shadows ahead, two pale and sleek figures appeared, their eyes burning faintly red even in the dark.