Aren't territories a werewolf thing?

15. Clashing

In flies an enraged sixty-five to seventy year old man with light grey hair, a slightly wrinkled though strong jaw and a muscular body. He has really aged well but who is he? I look around with questioning eyes trying to find someone to answer my question but everyone in the room has a fixed stare on him along with a dropped jaw. His eyes flit around the room, searching for something or maybe someone. They eventually land on me but instead of flitting away, his gaze becomes a piercing glare. I can't help but squirm in my seat. Why is he looking at me like that?

'Why did you allow him to die?' a voice booms inside my head. I look around questioningly. Who said that?

My attention is drawn back to the old man who starts to stumble but manages to catch himself using a chair. He suddenly looks a little worn out.

"I asked you a question, little girl," the old guy snarls, looking directly at me. Huh? When did he ask me a question? The only question I got was from that voice in my... Hold the phone. It was the old man who spoke to me? How is that possible? Only Brandon and Pedro Martinez can do that. My eyebrows scrunch together. What in the world is going on?

"Okay. First things first, who are you? Secondly, how do you have the ability to project your thoughts? And lastly, most importantly, what the hell are you talking about?"

His eyes darken and it seems that he got even more pissed off. Sadly for him, I don't get intimidated easily so I raise an eyebrow as I wait for him to answer. However, as soon as I do that, a hand is wrapped around my throat. I scratch at his hands struggling to breathe. Talk about deja vu. Let's hope noone loses a head this time. "Watch your tone, little one," he manages to grit out from his clenched teeth. And I thought I had anger management problems.

I got to say though. For an old guy his grip is incredibly strong. Then again, I know nothing of the vamp aging process. Lol. Matter of fact, I know very little about vampires on a whole.

Oldie releases his hold on my neck and takes a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. Meanwhile, everyone in the room is quiet, just watching the scene in front of them unfold.

"I am the one who created you two and you allowed that piece of sh*t, Brandon, to die."

My vision turns hazy. One minute Oldie is towering over me and the next he has flown across the room and has slammed into a wall. Gasps echo throughout the room.

"Don't you ever insult Brandon," I spit out. My barely contained rage is evident in my voice. Oh Jesus. I must have thrown him. Okay, you need to calm down now Nelle. This isn't going to end well. If he was angry before, only Allah knows what...

My train of thought is cut off as I sail through the air, crashing into several chairs and tables. As soon as I land, I'm picked up by my hair and chucked outside the door. I roll to a stop and clutch my scalp. Being held up by your hair and pitched like a baseball unsurprisingly hurts like hell.

Suddenly there's a foot on my neck, crushing my windpipe. "Who the f!$& do you think you are? Nobody talks to me like that. Not ever. Show me some goddamn respect!" The old man is shouting now and his shoe is digging further into my neck. I can feel my bones starting to splinter and the pain is unbearable. I start flailing my feet and scratching at the ground. Just as the dark spots begin to infringe on my sight, Oldie calms slightly and lessens the pressure on my neck. I heave an internal sigh of relief. I'm pretty sure a vampire would die if the part connecting the head to the body is crushed.

Oldie's voice goes from normal volume to a deadly whisper. "I may not be able to kill you but I'll make you realize that there are many things worse than death. You thought your bones splintering was pain? You haven't seen anything yet." A shiver runs through my body. Somehow I don't doubt that at all.