Patient B-2

Chapter Sixty-Nine: Wrath

Forty-six minutes have ticked by since Avalyn and the headman disappeared into the basement. I promised we'd give her an hour to convince him to take the cure before we went after them, but with each passing minute, my anxiety tightens its grip. Every second feels like a weight, pressing down on me as the clock steadily marches forward.

I can see that Cierien is just as anxious as I am— his hands have been trembling since we arrived, making it difficult for him to manage his trays of hors d'oeuvres. We ditched our cover soon after we got here, blending in with the crowd as we did last time. Thankfully, the guards seem more focused on following orders than scrutinizing faces.

Cierien shares my unease about Avalyn being alone down there, though he was more willing to let her venture off by herself. Despite our mutual apprehension, we've agreed to wait another fourteen minutes before taking action. If needed, we'll neutralize the guards and even the headman himself.

"Wrath..." Cierien starts, his voice tight.

"Fourteen more minutes," I cut him off, anticipating his concern.

We've agreed, and there's no turning back now. Avalyn may not have even convinced the headman to take the cure yet. Acting prematurely could jeopardize everything. This situation is delicate; we must trust her to handle it, just as she trusts us to handle the guards.

"But, Wrath—"

"Fourteen," I insist, my frustration evident.

I don't like it any more than he does, but what choice do we have? We'll give her those fourteen minutes— now thirteen. Not a second more.

"Wrath, look!" he blurts, nodding urgently toward the basement door.

The urgency in his voice snaps my attention to where he's gesturing. I watch, stunned, as the angelic blonde approaches the two guards. I swear I feel my heart race, each beat echoing with dread, as they exchange solemn nods. One of the guards grips her arm with a firm hold and pulls her through the open door. She nearly collapses into him, struggling to keep her balance as he's tugging her inside.

She appears weak, discombobulated even. Though, from where I stand, I can't see much beyond her head disappearing behind the door.

I take a step forward, my senses on edge, but Cierien pulls me back. "Avalyn may not have found a way to get him to take the cure," he whispers, his eyes full of worry.

I'm not sure why he's telling me this. It doesn't matter. All I can focus on is the woman who shouldn't be here. She's in danger, and that's all that matters right now. Not the cure. Not the headman. Her.

"I'm having a hard time understanding why that's important when she's heading straight for the headman," I snarl, wrenching free from his grip.

He could hurt her. She shouldn't be here. She should be safe in California with the others, resting. She deserves rest.

Cierien bows his head, conceding to my frustration. Without wasting another second, I storm over to the basement door, completely disregarding whether or not Cierien is following me. I don't need him to kill the guards, I'm running on anger.

I force my way through the throng of people. The auction may be over, but the dance floor is still packed, and others continue to stream toward the private rooms, eager for their turn. I barely register their presence, my thoughts a whirlwind of unanswered questions.

Why is she here? She should be in California by now. Shouldn't the girls all be together? They left a week ago, didn't they? Are they still in New York? Is this a part of the plan? Did Avalyn leave this out?

What am I missing?

My stomach twists with unease. Something is terribly wrong— so profoundly wrong. This doesn't feel like part of Avalyn's plan, she'd never leave something like this out. As I draw closer, the anticipation mounts and a sinking feeling tells me that everything is on the verge of shifting dramatically.

The gnawing sensation in my gut intensifies as I'm struck by the unsettling realization that the heartbeat I hear doesn't belong to any of the countless individuals who came here with ill intentions. It's a rhythmic pulse that stands apart, an unwelcome reminder of something— or someone— extraordinarily out of place. It pushes me forward, approaching the basement in record time.

I barely have a moment to appreciate the sharp crack of the guards' necks as they snap to their end. By the time their bodies hit the ground, I'm already halfway down the steps, moving too quickly to dwell on the grim satisfaction of their defeat.

There are far more guards than before, but it hardly matters. What's a crowd of humans compared to two vampires— one fueled by a hatred that could outstrip the malice of this entire organization? Another that's well... him?

When I reach the bottom, the room is packed with guards. The instant they realize we're a threat, their hands rush to their weapons, their movements a blur of panic. I hear the swish of guns being raised, but I don't feel the sting of a dart. I'm faster and stronger than they are— no weapon can touch me.

I take down four guards before I realize Cierien has already dispatched the other six. I momentarily forget just how swift and lethal he can be— especially when human blood is involved. He's never enjoyed the act of killing, but he's undeniably skilled at it. It brings back memories of how brutally he handled the guards when we first broke free. It mirrors our circumstances now— with the guards' throats ripped out rather than a mere snap of bones.

I don't dwell on his methods, not when they're so effective, especially in a situation like this. I can ask if he's okay later. Because it feels like time is slipping away, and if what I've heard is true, it might be running out for real.

I fling open the door, revealing a monotone hallway steeped in despair I'd rather not analyze too closely. I hurry past the child's room, silently hoping he found a way out, even though the grim reality is that many others likely didn't— and might never.

Guards line the walls, but once again, none are a match for us. This place relies on the assumption that vampires won't resist, and I'm sure they're quick to discard those who don't comply— if that weren't the case, something like this would have happened long ago.

Unfortunately for WWA, Dr. Adair was a pitiful coward— a drunkard who saw the anger in my eyes but dismissed it as inconsequential. I suppose I should count myself lucky for that. Tonight, others won't be so fortunate.

My mother named me as a silly joke to poke at me for my angry tendencies, but my wrath is my essence— my constant companion. It drives me, shapes me, and transforms me into something beyond the ordinary. It is not just a reaction but a core element of my being. When I am wrathful, I am untamed and unstoppable, a force of nature unleashed.

The hallway is cleared in the blink of an eye, a sea of red and deformed bodies sitting at unnatural angles. I'm acutely aware that the noise has undoubtedly reached the living room, where the main event is about to unfold. We have to be quick.

The moment the door swings open, the rhythmic beat of a heartbeat hits my ears once more, confirming my fears. My gaze immediately locks onto Avalyn's tear-filled eyes, the droplets streaming down her cheeks. I'm almost overwhelmed with the urge to reach out and catch them for her, but a deep, pained groan yanks my attention away.

There, my mother stands, her neck tilted at an uncomfortable angle, the headman's teeth lodged deep into her throat.

Her heart beats rapidly. It echoes off the walls. It surrounds me completely.

Human— my mother is human.

//

ah short chapter.

next chapter will hopefully be up soon.

thank you for reading ily.

and thank you for 100k on B-2????