A heart of the vampire

Chapter 27

As they stepped into the heart of the castle, Lucian felt a chill run down his spine. The grand hall was dominated by an imposing spiral staircase, its white marble steps gleaming with a sterile sheen that seemed to reflect the very essence of the castle's unnatural light. The architecture was more opulent than he remembered, the walls adorned with intricate carvings that whispered of ancient power and untold secrets.

"Three hundred years," Lucian breathed, disheartened, as he tried to orient himself amidst the overwhelming grandeur. Memories of the castle flooded back—both the beauty and the horror that lurked within its walls—but now it felt foreign, as if it had been reshaped by Vlad's dark influence. The layout had changed, and with it, the danger had only multiplied.

"Lucian?" One of the wolves growled, his voice low and urgent. "We don't have time for nostalgia." He gestured with his powerful head toward the far wall, where a subtle glow flickered—a camera lens capturing every movement, recording their presence. "They know we're here. Cameras, screams... They're ready for us."

Lucian's gaze sharpened, adrenaline coursing through him. "Then we need to move fast. We can't afford to be caught."

"Let's split up," Lucian commanded, his voice firm and steady. "Find Serena first. Once you have her, regroup back here. We'll take him down together."

The wolves exchanged tense glances, their loyalty evident even in the face of danger. The silver-furred leader nodded, determination flashing in her amber eyes. "We'll cover more ground if we separate. But we need a signal if things go wrong."

"Agreed," Lucian replied, focusing on each of them. "If you're in trouble, use the howl. I'll hear you."

One of the wolves, with thick fur and piercing eyes, muttered quietly, but loud enough for Lucian to hear, "You racist!"

Lucian shot him a dangerous look, but in his eyes, there was also a hint of acknowledgment. You know I won't be stopped by your prejudices, he thought, but the smile he registered was more sinister than cheerful. "Let's not let this interfere with our mission," he said with cold calm. "Decide whether you're on my side or not."

The wolf furrowed his brows, his expression revealing both defiance and understanding, but he eventually nodded, exchanging a tense glance with Lucian.

As they split off into small groups, Lucian watched as each pack of wolves, muscles tense and eyes sharp, vanished into the dark, echoing halls of the castle. The atmosphere crackled with energy, an intensity shared equally by the wolves and by Lucian, who led his own team down a long, shadowy corridor. Every step brought back memories—some filled with dread, others with the cold resolve that had brought him here tonight.

They moved in silence, their collective focus trained on the faint sounds filtering through the castle: distant footsteps, hurried whispers, the occasional slam of a door as guards scrambled to lock down their positions. Despite their advanced weaponry, the vampire forces seemed more intent on hiding behind barricades than on holding any real line of defense. Lucian's lips curled in a faint smile at the irony: centuries of refinement and power reduced to fear and retreat, as if their technology could somehow protect them from the primal fury now advancing through their halls.

Behind him, one of the wolves—a thickly muscled warrior with a scar slicing across his muzzle—pressed a clawed hand to his bleeding side. A bullet had grazed him during an earlier skirmish with a heavily armed guard, though it did little to slow his determined pace. The wolves might not have armor or weapons to match the vampires' firearms, but their sheer resilience was formidable. Outfitted in layers of tactical gear, the vampire guards fought with precision, aiming their shots to slow the wolves as much as possible, desperate to buy time. But for every wound inflicted, a new predator emerged from the shadows, undeterred, closing in on them with lethal intent.