CHAPTER 387: TRAINED FOR MOMENTS LIKE THIS

(Third Person).

Just as Draven, Meredith, and Dennis steadied themselves in the eerie silence, three more figures emerged from between the trees. They were tall, lean, and deadly.

The air grew heavier. Their eyes glowed like dying embers, their pale skin almost luminous under the full moon.

One of them stood ahead of the others, his stance commanding. He was the leader.

Through the mind-link, Draven’s calm, commanding voice brushed through Meredith and Dennis’s thoughts:

"The one in the center is their leader. Don’t touch him. He is Brackham’s gift."

Dennis chuckled darkly. "You always did have a taste for trouble, brother," he said through the link, amusement curling in his tone. "And that’s the kind of gift that will bring Brackham’s whole government to its knees."

Meredith’s gaze flicked toward the vampire leader. She knew Dennis was right. Taking the leader meant chaos—the rest of the vampires would come for him, desperate, enraged. And in that chaos, Draven would strike his true purpose.

’My husband is too strategic for his own good,’ she thought, tightening her grip on the sword as she finally realized Draven’s mysterious plan.

The vampire leader stepped forward, his red eyes flicking from Draven to Meredith. His lips curled into a grin as he sniffed the air.

"Werewolves," he said softly, his voice a low melody of mockery. "But you smell wrong—like humans."

Then, he tilted his head and inhaled again, this time facing Meredith. "Ah... now I understand." His grin widened, sharp and cruel. "You carry the Alpha’s scent. So, you are his mate. How intimate."

Meredith stiffened, her jaw tightening, but Draven remained calm, his expression unreadable.

The vampire’s attention returned to him. "You’re not like the others of your kind," he said slowly, his tone probing. "There is something... different about you. Tell me, Alpha—why is that?"

Draven’s voice was sharp and flat. "Cut your nonsense and listen. I have an offer."

The vampire gave a cruel laugh. "An offer? Since when do I make offers with wild animals?"

Dennis couldn’t help himself. "It’s for your own good, you blood-sucking, white-ghosted demon who can’t even stand the sun for long!" His tone was mocking, filled with venom.

The vampire leader’s expression darkened instantly, fangs flashing as a deep hiss tore from his throat. The others stirred behind him, ready to spring.

But Draven lifted a hand calmly. His eyes locked with the vampire leader. "You have two choices," he said coldly. "You either come with me peacefully, or you will be dragged along. Either way, you’re coming."

The vampire leader stared at him for a long moment, then burst into laughter—low, sharp, deranged.

"Dragged? By you? You dare come into our territory and speak of dragging me away?"

Draven’s smirk was faint, but dangerous. "Only if you make it out alive tonight."

The laughter faded. A heavy silence fell. The other vampires watched, their bodies tense and ready.

Then Draven spoke again, his tone even and unshaken. "Brackham, leader of the humans, is highly in need of your body and its services. So, I must take you."

That name, Brackham, seemed to catch the vampire off guard. His crimson eyes narrowed dangerously as his head tilted.

"So, the mayor still plays with monsters," he hissed. "How interesting."

His voice turned into a growl, his fangs extending fully. "And you—the wolves are his errand dogs now?"

Draven’s response was calm and cold, but it sliced like a blade. "No. We are just delivering his doom."

The moment Draven’s final words cut through the air, the forest erupted with a black and silver blur of motion as the vampires lunged, hissing like wild serpents.

Draven met them head-on with no weapon, no hesitation. His claws extended, gleaming like forged steel under the moonlight.

One vampire slashed toward his throat; Draven ducked, spun, and drove his claws upward, slicing through flesh and bone in one smooth, merciless strike. Blood sprayed the air, dark and steaming.

Dennis’s twin axes sang through the night, cutting deep into another vampire’s torso. He wrenched one free and swung the second upward, catching another mid-leap. The thud that followed was wet and final.

"That’s two!" he barked, a savage grin spreading across his face.

Meredith was hesitant at first, but recalling her earlier training days, she decided to let her instinct take over.

She moved like a dancer among predators. Her sword gleamed in the moonlight, fast and fluid.

She met a vampire’s charge, sidestepped, and with a clean, powerful swing, took its head. It rolled across the forest floor, and for a heartbeat, she stood frozen, startled by her own precision.

Then Valmora’s voice murmured in her head, calm and proud. "Don’t stop, Meredith. You are doing beautifully."

Meredith exhaled sharply and spun just in time to block another attack. Her sword clashed with claws, sparks flying from the impact.

She pivoted, ducked under the vampire’s arm, and drove the blade through its ribs—twisting, just as Draven had taught her. The vampire’s body stiffened before crumpling to the ground.

"Four left," Dennis called, his axes dripping.

Draven didn’t answer. He was already facing the vampire leader. The two circled each other—predator and predator. The leader’s eyes glowed bright crimson, his movements sinuous and calculated.

"You should have stayed in your cage, Alpha," the vampire hissed.

Draven smirked faintly. "You first."

The vampire moved fast. Almost too fast. But Draven caught his arm mid-swing, twisting until the bone cracked with a loud snap.

The vampire screamed and retaliated with his other hand, slicing Draven’s cheek open with his claws.

Draven didn’t even flinch. He countered with a brutal punch that sent the vampire crashing into a tree trunk, splintering the wood. The ground trembled from the impact.

Behind them, Dennis swung one axe to deflect an attack meant for Meredith, then spun the other to strike back.

"Watch your flank, Luna!" he shouted.

"I got it!" Meredith replied with a clear strong voice. Her sword sliced through the air, severing another vampire’s arm before she plunged the blade straight through its chest.

Draven barely spared a glance her way, but inside, pride burned quietly in his chest. His wife wasn’t hiding behind him. She was fighting beside him instead.

The vampire leader staggered up, snarling, his broken arm hanging uselessly at his side. "You... think you can take me to that pathetic human?" he spat, blood running down his chin.

Draven moved faster than thought—one blur of shadow and steel. His claws plunged deep into the vampire’s shoulder, pinning him to the tree.

The vampire roared, thrashing, but Draven leaned in close, his voice a deadly whisper.

"I don’t think," he said. "I know."

With a swift motion, Draven struck the vampire in the back of the neck, knocking him into the realm of unconscious. The body slumped forward.

Silence descended. Only the gentle rustle of leaves and the drip of blood disturbed the stillness.

Dennis exhaled, wiping his axes clean on the grass. "Well," he muttered, looking at the carnage around them, "if this doesn’t scare the rest of them off, nothing will."

Meredith lowered her sword slowly, her chest heaving. The metallic scent of blood clung to the air. Her hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the rush, the adrenaline still thrumming in her veins.

Draven stood straight, rolling his shoulders as his claws receded. He turned toward her, eyes flicking to the blood splattered across her cheek. "You did well," he said quietly.

Meredith met his gaze, catching her breath. "You too," she replied, then smiled faintly. "Though I think you were showing off."

Dennis barked a laugh. "That’s the Alpha for you."

Draven ignored his brother’s teasing as he looked down at the unconscious vampire leader.

"Let’s get him back before sunrise," he said. "Brackham’s gift shouldn’t be kept waiting."

Meredith sheathed her sword as Draven lifted the vampire’s limp form effortlessly over his shoulder.

Just as they turned to leave, Meredith froze. Her ears twitched slightly. There it was again—a faint crunch of leaves, distant but deliberate. Her expression shifted from calm to sharp focus.

"More vampires are coming." Valmora’s voice slid into her mind like a whisper of cold wind.

Her eyes widened. "Draven," she said quickly, turning toward him. "More vampires are coming."

"I know," Draven cut in, his tone even but steely. His gaze had already flicked toward the shadows on their left.

The wind carried the unmistakable tang of blood and rot. "They are surrounding from the north and west."

Dennis’s grip tightened around his axes, his grin returning. "Well, they are early. I guess they didn’t like our little show."

Draven adjusted the limp vampire leader on his shoulder. "Dennis. Meredith." His voice dropped low—the command of an Alpha, quiet but absolute. "Stay here and hold them back."

Meredith’s head snapped up. "What?"

Draven’s eyes met hers, calm and steady. "You both can handle this batch. I don’t want his followers to realize he is missing and follow me now."

"But—"

"Don’t argue," he said softly, already stepping back. "As soon as you are done, get out of these woods and return home. Wait for me there."

She stared at him, disbelief flickering across her face. "You’re leaving me here?"

Draven’s lips curved faintly, that knowing half-smile she both loved and hated.

"You are not alone. You have Dennis. And I trained you for moments like this."