Belmont's eyes gleamed with malice as he advanced on Marcus. "Your time is finally up, old friend," he sneered, fangs glinting in the dim light of the warehouse.
Marcus tensed, ready to fight. But he knew the odds were stacked against him. Belmont's team of vampires and humans had him surrounded, cutting off any hope of escape.
Samantha watched in horror, her ghostly form flickering with anxiety. She had to do something, anything, to help Marcus. But what could a ghost do against vampires and living, breathing opponents?
As Belmont lunged at Marcus, the world seemed to shift into slow motion. The warehouse air grew thick, almost syrupy, making every movement feel like wading through molasses. Belmont's face twisted into a snarl, his fangs glinting in the dim light. His fingers, curled like claws, reached for Marcus's throat.
