Mystic Bonds: The Tale of Ross and Morrison

The Dark Encounter

Morrison Martinez's heels clicked sharply against the wet pavement as she rushed toward the police cordon. The cold air whipped through her curly brown hair, strands escaping the neat ponytail she had tied earlier that morning. She pulled her cream coat tighter around her, ignoring the frigid sting on her cheeks.

Her deep brown almond eyes scanned the scene—flashing blue lights, yellow police tape, and a small crowd of curious bystanders. The whispers of the onlookers carried through the night as she approached.

"Two girls, just lying there..."
"Did you see the bite marks?"
"Looks like an animal got them, but the cops said—"

Morrison's heart raced as she pushed through the crowd, flashing her press badge at the nearest officer. "Morrison Martinez, Daily Gazette. What's the situation here?"

The officer, a grizzled man with deep lines of exhaustion etched on his face, barely glanced at her. "Two young women found dead. We've closed off the area. That's all we're saying."

She frowned. The police were always tight-lipped, but something about the scene felt... off. Her instincts, honed from years of chasing down stories, were buzzing. Morrison moved to the perimeter, trying to get a better view of the bodies. Even from a distance, she could see the girls lying lifeless on the cold pavement, their necks exposed to the night.

Her pulse quickened as she squinted. There, on the side of the neck—two small puncture wounds. Perfectly round, just like... bite marks.

Morrison swallowed hard, feeling a chill creep down her spine. She clicked open her notepad and began scribbling down details, her mind racing through possibilities. This wasn't some animal attack. These marks, the precision, the lack of blood...

"Excuse me, Miss, you'll have to step back," an officer interrupted, his hand firm on her shoulder as he gently pushed her away from the scene.

Morrison nodded but kept her eyes on the bodies, her thoughts swirling. Vampires? The word seemed absurd, and yet, here she was, standing at a crime scene where two girls had been drained of blood, their necks marked by unmistakable bites.

As she was escorted back to the edge of the cordon, a sharp sense of urgency gripped her. She needed to know more—about the victims, about what was really happening in this town. Something dark was brewing, and if there was one thing Morrison Martinez knew, it was that darkness always had a story worth uncovering.

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The chandelier above flickered as the fire in the grand hearth crackled softly, casting long shadows across the walls of the Mikaelson mansion. Ross Mikaelson lounged casually on a velvet armchair, his legs stretched out, one hand cradling a half-empty glass of bourbon. The amber liquid swirled lazily as he took a sip, his cold, piercing eyes staring blankly at the flames dancing before him.

The grand double doors swung open with a heavy thud. Klaus stormed in, his face twisted with fury. His usual air of calculated dominance was overshadowed by the anger radiating from him.

"Ross," Klaus spat, his voice thick with menace. "Do you care to explain the bodies left rotting in the streets? Those girls—"

"They were just food," Ross interrupted, his tone detached, as though he was talking about nothing more significant than the weather. His gaze didn't shift from the fire, his expression remaining impassive, almost bored.

"Food?" Klaus snapped, pacing in front of Ross like a caged animal. "The council is sniffing around, the town is on high alert, and you're leaving corpses like breadcrumbs! Do you know what this recklessness could cost us?"