Macmillan sat in the VIP section of an exclusive nightclub, one of the many clubs he managed for Count Griffin. The room was a cacophony of flashing lights, pounding music, and the low murmur of conversations.
Despite the wealth and the energy around him, Macmillan's mind was elsewhere, his thoughts consumed by the ever present threat of Ezra Matten.
He swirled the crimson liquid in his glass, staring into it as if it held the answers he was looking for. Ezra was out for his blood, and the pressure was mounting. He had underestimated the newborn, and now, he was paying the price. He didn't know how the vampire survived getting his heart destroyed but at the moment, that didn't matter. What mattered was him keeping his life.
"Ezra Matten." He murmured to himself. "Are you really a newborn? Are you really a first ring vampire?"
