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Ian’s POV

The crescent moon was hanging low in the sky, casting long shadows across the deserted streets as we made our way through the city. The night was quiet, but there was a tension in the air that made my senses sharper, my instincts more alert. I could feel the presence of Jacob and Mike flanking me, their footsteps silent, their expressions grim. We were on a hunt, but this time, our prey wasn’t human.

“We’re getting close,” Mike muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

I nodded, feeling the same pull in my blood. The vampire we were tracking was nearby—close enough for me to sense his aura. He was old, cunning, and powerful enough to mask his presence from most, but not from us. We had been following his trail for hours, through alleyways and abandoned buildings, narrowing the distance until we were nearly upon him.

“Are you sure he’ll talk?” Jacob asked, his tone tinged with skepticism. “Vampires like him don’t usually give up information easily.”

“He’ll talk,” I said, my voice cold and certain. “He doesn’t have a choice.”

The vampire we were after, an old vampire known as Marcellus, had been living in the shadows for centuries. He had a reputation for knowing things—things that most vampires wouldn’t, or couldn’t, know. If anyone had information about the hunters, it would be him. And if he didn’t, well, we would make sure he regretted wasting our time.

The three of us moved swiftly, our steps soundless as we approached the warehouse where Marcellus was hiding. It was an old and worn out structure on the outskirts of the city, long abandoned by humans and now home to something far more dangerous. I could feel the power radiating from within, a dark, pulsing energy that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“He’s inside,” I said, glancing at Jacob and Mike. “Stay alert. He’s not going to make this easy.”

Jacob gave me a tight nod, his expression hard. “Let’s get this over with.”

We slipped inside the warehouse, our movements swift and calculated. The interior was dimly lit, the only light coming from a few broken windows high above. The air was thick with dust and the scent of decay, a reminder of just how old this place was. But underneath it all, I could smell him—Marcellus, lurking in the shadows, waiting.

“Welcome, Ian,” a voice echoed from the darkness, smooth and mocking. “It’s been a long time.”

I tensed, my eyes scanning the shadows until they locked onto a figure emerging from the far side of the room. Marcellus looked the same as he had the last time I’d seen him, centuries ago. Tall and lean, with pale skin and eyes that glowed faintly in the darkness. He moved with a predatory grace, a smug smile playing on his lips as he regarded us.

“I knew you’d come,” he said, stopping a few feet away. “I could feel your presence miles away. It’s hard to miss the king of the vampires when he’s hunting for you.”

“This isn’t a social visit,” I replied, my voice flat. “We need information, and you’re going to give it to us.”

Marcellus’s smile widened, his fangs gleaming in the dim light. “Information, is it? And what makes you think I have what you’re looking for?”

“You know everything that happens in this city,” Mike said, stepping forward, his eyes locked on Marcellus. “You have contacts, spies, eyes, and ears everywhere. If anyone knows about the hunters, it’s you.”

Marcellus tilted his head, considering us with a look of mild interest. “Ah, the hunters. I was wondering when you’d come to me about them. Nasty business, isn’t it? All those poor vampires getting slaughtered.”

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