The door had barely closed behind Isabella when Eric felt the weight of the room settle over him, suffocating and oppressive.
He kept his gaze low even when Grayson eyes burned into his, his fists clenched at his sides.
Grayson stepped forward, uncoiling the whip from his side. The soft scrape of the leather against the floor was like a warning bell, and Eric's stomach churned.
"The witch might have plans for you, but I don't see a soldier. I see a coward—a weak, pathetic excuse for a man who's only alive because someone sees something in you because of your master."Grayson sneered, his voice low but heavy with malice.
Eric lifted his head. "I didn't ask to be here," he spat. "You think this makes me one of you? Beating me? Torturing me? You're nothing but a sadistic bastard."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and the moment they did, he knew he'd sealed his fate. Grayson's smirk vanished, replaced by a dark, seething rage. Without hesitation, he lashed the whip across the air, the sharp crack like a thunderclap.
Eric barely had time to flinch before the first strike came down on his chest. The pain was instant and blinding, tearing through his body. He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out, even as his knees buckled slightly from the force.
"You can't be talking to me like that.Can You?" Grayson hissed, his voice cutting. He struck again, harder this time, the whip tearing through fabric and biting into skin. "For disrespecting me. I'll show you what happens to people who defy me."
Eric stumbled forward but caught himself before hitting the ground. He spun around, adrenaline overriding the pain, and lunged at Grayson, his fists flying.
But Grayson was faster. With a brutal ease, he dodged Eric's swing and slammed his fist into Eric's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Eric doubled over, gasping for air, but Grayson didn't give him a moment to recover. He grabbed Eric by the collar and threw him to the ground like a rag doll.
"You'll always be weak." Grayson muttered,
Eric tried to push himself up, his arms trembling beneath him, but the whip cracked again, this time across his shoulders. He cried out despite himself, the sound raw and anguished. The pain was unbearable, each strike tearing through him and leaving him gasping for air.
"Get up," Grayson barked, his voice cold and commanding. When Eric didn't move fast enough, another strike came, this time across his side. Blood was pooling beneath him now, seeping through the torn fabric of his shirt.
Eric coughed violently, a sharp, wet sound that brought up blood. He spat it onto the ground, glaring up at Grayson through the haze of pain. "I'll never fight for you. Never."
Grayson crouched down beside him, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back so their faces were inches apart. "Loyalty doesn't matter," he said, his tone calm but deadly. "All that matters is obedience. And I'll break you until there's nothing left but that."
He let go, letting Eric's head drop to the floor with a thud. Standing over him, he raised the whip again, the leather slick with blood. Eric braced himself for another blow, his vision blurring, but he refused to beg, refused to give Grayson the satisfaction.
The next strike was the hardest yet, ripping a cry from Eric's throat despite his best efforts to stay silent. The room spun around him, the pain overwhelming his senses. He coughed again, more blood spilling from his mouth, and his body slumped against the floor.
Grayson smirked, an almost amused expression that made Eric's blood boil. "Get in position," he ordered, his tone cold and devoid of sympathy. "If you can't stand, crawl. I don't care. But you will learn."
Eric raised his fists, trying to steady himself despite the agony coursing through his body. His stance was shaky, his movements sluggish. He stepped forward, aiming a punch at Grayson, but the older man moved effortlessly out of the way, his movements fluid and precise.
"Wrong," Grayson growled, and the whip lashed out again, striking Eric's shoulder with a force that sent him staggering.
Eric pushed forward again, his frustration growing with every failed attempt. He tried to jab, to feint, to find some opening, but Grayson saw through it all with ease. Each time, Grayson countered with another strike of the whip, the word "Wrong!" ringing out like a gunshot.
"Your stance is garbage," Grayson sneered, lashing the whip across Eric's back. "Your form is sloppy." Another strike tore into Eric's side. "And your resolve? Pathetic." The next blow hit the back of Eric's knees, sending him crashing to the floor.
Eric gasped for air, his hands clawing at the stone floor as the pain consumed him. His skin was shredded, torn open by countless strikes, blood soaking through his clothes and dripping onto the ground. His body screamed at him to stop, to give up, but he couldn't. He wouldn't.
"Get up!" Grayson barked, his voice a sharp command.
Eric's hands trembled as he pushed himself up, his vision blurring with tears of pain and rage. He swung at Grayson again, his movements fueled by desperation, but Grayson intercepted him with ease.
"Wrong!" The whip cracked again, this time across his chest. Eric's scream tore from his throat as the leather peeled back skin, the pain so intense he thought he might pass out.
Eric's breathing grew heavier, more labored. His fingers dug into the ground as his teeth began to ache, sharp fangs pressing against his gums.
"You'll regret this," Eric hissed. His eyes, once filled with pain, now gleamed with an unnatural hunger.
Grayson hesitated for the first time, his whip freezing mid-swing as he caught sight of Eric's face. Black veins began to spread beneath Eric's skin, crawling outward from his eyes. His teeth lengthened into razor-sharp fangs, and his lips curled back in a snarl. The change was undeniable, monstrous.
"Finally," Grayson said, though there was an edge of caution in his voice. "You want to fight? Then fight."
Eric surged to his feet, faster than he thought possible, his movements no longer sluggish. His senses were sharper, his strength greater. But his mind—his mind was teetering on the edge, caught between his human defiance and the animalistic rage clawing its way to the surface.
Grayson swung the whip again, but this time, Eric caught it mid-air with one hand, the leather biting into his palm. He yanked it forward with inhuman strength, pulling Grayson off balance.
With a feral snarl, Eric lunged.
Grayson's smirk disappeared in an instant, replaced by a mask of unsettling calm. His expression was void of any emotion, his eyes cold. The sudden shift made Eric freeze for a split second, his blood running cold despite the fire of rage coursing through him.
That face. He knew that face. It was the same one Grayson wore the first time Eric had seen him—when Grayson had dragged him, broken and bleeding, from the chaos of the village Alaric had massacred .
Before Eric could fully process the memory, Grayson moved, faster than Eric thought possible. There was a glint of metal, a deafening bang, and then white-hot pain exploded in Eric's leg. He collapsed, hitting the ground hard as a strangled grunt escaped his throat. Blood poured from the wound in his thigh, staining the floor beneath him.
"Wrong," Grayson said coldly, his voice a low, controlled growl. He stepped closer, gun still in hand, its barrel gleaming under the dim light. He crouched slightly, "Never let your opponent know your next move."
Eric's breathing was ragged, his hands clawing at the floor in an attempt to steady himself. The sharp sting of the wound radiated up his body, but he refused to cry out. He glared up at Grayson, his fangs bared, the black veins under his eyes pulsating with fury.
"Get up," Grayson ordered again, his tone devoid of any hint of mercy. "Now."
Eric hesitated, his body trembling as he tried to shift his weight onto his good leg.
Grayson narrowed his eyes, his face betraying no emotion. He raised the gun again, pointing it directly at Eric's other leg. "I said, get up. Or I'll take the next one. And then your arms."
Eric growled low in his throat, his vision swimming between the human and the monstrous. The pain was excruciating, but the rage was stronger. His vampire side screamed for control, urging him to rip Grayson apart.
Eric's body trembled as he pushed himself up, his leg screaming in protest. His breaths came in shallow gasps, but his eyes never left Grayson's. "I'll kill you," he growled through gritted teeth, his voice trembling with equal parts pain and conviction.
Grayson chuckled softly, the sound devoid of any real humor. "You're welcome to try."
Grayson's lips curled into a dark, sadistic smile. Without hesitation, the gun went off again, another deafening crack splitting the air. Eric's other leg was hit, and a fresh wave of agony shot through his body, leaving him gasping and trembling on the floor.
Grayson tilted his head slightly, blowing at the smoke curling from the barrel of his gun before calmly holstering it. He looked down at Eric with cold disdain, the faint smirk still lingering on his lips. "Hunters don't keep their promises," he said coolly, his tone as sharp as the pain Eric felt.
Eric's snarl tore through the room. But he couldn't move—his legs were useless, blood pooling beneath him and staining the floor. Every breath he took was ragged, each inhale bringing fresh fire to his lungs.
Grayson turned his back on him without a second glance, a calculated move meant to provoke Eric further. And it worked. Despite the overwhelming pain, Eric's instincts surged. Fueled by desperation and fury, he forced himself onto his elbows and launched a punch, aiming directly at Grayson's spine.
But Grayson was faster. His body shifted in a fluid motion, sidestepping the blow with almost unnatural grace. Before Eric could react, Grayson's foot connected with his torso in a brutal kick. The impact was like a sledgehammer, sending Eric hurtling across the room.
His body slammed into the wall with a sickening thud, and he crumpled to the ground. The wall didn't even crack under the force—it was as if the room itself mocked his feeble resistance.
Eric coughed violently, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His vision swam, a mixture of pain and humiliation clouding his senses. But even now, his rage hadn't faded. If anything, it burned hotter, his mind consumed with one thought: I'll kill him. I'll make him bleed.
Grayson stood still, calm and composed, as if nothing had happened. His voice broke the silence, low and commanding. "You don't even know how to lose properly."
Eric growled, his fangs bared and the black veins under his eyes spreading.
"Get used to this," Grayson said, his voice cold and final. "Because until you stop being useless, this is all you'll ever be—on the ground, bleeding at my feet."
Grayson turned his back on Eric without another word, striding across the room to a corner where a steel table stood, covered in an array of ominous objects. His movements were as though he was savoring the moment, and his hand reached out to grasp something from the table. A sleek black device, sharp and industrial.
As he held it up, a dark smile played at the edges of his lips. "Bring the others," he said coldly.
Eric, slumped against the bloodstained wall, gritted his teeth as his body slowly began to heal. The gaping wounds in his legs stitched themselves together bit by bit, but the process was agonizingly sluggish compared to what he'd seen from Alaric.
Still, the sensation of healing—of survival—brought a grim determination to his gaze. His hands twitched against the floor as his claws extended instinctively, the desire to strike burning in his veins. But he couldn't yet; his body was still too weak, and he knew Grayson would crush him without a second thought if he tried again.
The faint scent of his own blood filled the room, mingling with the metallic tang of weapons and tools on the table. Grayson hadn't so much as glanced back at him, as if Eric weren't even a threat worth acknowledging.
Grayson placed the device on the table with a dull clink before turning back.
Eric bit down on his fury, the sharp taste of blood on his tongue. For now, all he could do was endure. But the promise of vengeance burned in his mind like a second heartbeat. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
__
After a few minutes of sitting there,the sound of heavy boots echoed through the room, and Eric turned his head sharply toward the door. A group of hunters filed in, their expressions cold and detached. They were dragging with them a cluster of vampires in tattered clothing, their wrists bound with silver chains that seared their pale skin. The acrid scent of burning flesh filled the air, making Eric's stomach churn.
The vampires looked broken, their faces gaunt and lifeless. Eric's gaze scanned over them, his confusion mounting. They weren't just random captives. They were like him—prisoners. Each one bore signs of torment: bruises, cuts, and burns that hadn't fully healed despite their vampiric nature.
Grayson, standing by the table, wiped his hands with a pristine white cloth, stained red from Eric's blood. He tossed it to the floor without care, the motion casual but laced with contempt. Then, with an almost theatrical flourish, he clapped his hands together, drawing everyone's attention.
"Ah, look at this," Grayson said, his voice dripping with mock cheer. He gestured toward the vampires the hunters had dragged in, a grin spreading across his face. "These are my trophies. Vampires I caught myself. Some of them I decided to keep for... personal pleasure."
His eyes landed on one woman in particular—a frail figure with matted hair and lifeless eyes. Her face was a blank slate, devoid of any spark of resistance or emotion. Grayson's grin widened as he stared at her, his gaze crawling over her.
"And others," he continued, his tone shifting to something more sinister, "are here for sport. A game, if you will."
Eric's stomach twisted, his growing disgust momentarily overpowering his pain. He clenched his fists, his healing wounds protesting the movement. Grayson's words were casual, almost playful, but the meaning behind them was anything but.
Grayson turned his attention back to Eric, his grin sharpening. "You'll be part of that game, of course," he said, his tone light yet cruel. "Think of it as training. A chance to prove yourself."
He stepped closer, his boots crunching on the blood-slicked floor. "You see, Eric, survival isn't just about strength. It's about being ruthless, clever, and willing to do whatever it takes. That's what I'm going to teach you."
Eric stared at him, his jaw tightening.
Grayson smirked, clearly enjoying Eric's silence. "You'll thank me one day," he said, his tone almost mocking. "If you survive, that is." He turned back to the vampires, gesturing for the hunters to bring them forward.
Eric's gaze flickered to the captives, their broken forms a grim reminder of what awaited him if he didn't find a way to fight back.
Grayson's gaze shifted to one of the hunters, who nodded in response. With a swift motion, the hunter pressed a button on the wall, and immediately, the ground beneath them began to tremble. The floor shifted with a loud, mechanical whir, and a large platform slowly rose from the ground. The air was thick with tension as the platform reached its full height, revealing a network of iron bars rising from the floor, connecting to a sizzling green barrier that crackled with energy. It was unmistakable—this was a trap, and Eric was the bait.
The platform was large enough to hold several people, and as Eric's eyes darted around, he saw that it had an opening to get in. His pulse quickened, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach as the realization hit him.
Grayson stepped forward, his voice cold and commanding as he addressed the prisoners. "Listen closely," he shouted, his tone cutting through the room like a knife. "Whoever can kill Eric will be freed. They will be allowed to leave this place. No more chains. No more games. You'll walk out of here, free from all the crimes you have committed against your kind."
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Grayson's words hanging in the air. Eric saw the glint of hope flash in the eyes of the other vampires. It was a deadly game, and the prize was freedom. Freedom, something none of them had had for far too long.
His eyes scanned the faces of the vampires in the room. Some were too weak to even lift their heads, their bodies worn down from their time as prisoners. Others, however, were already sizing him up with cold, calculating eyes, ready to do whatever it took to escape their hell.
Grayson's gaze swept over the crowd, his smile widening as he saw the shift in the air. The hope, the desire for freedom, burned in the eyes of the prisoners, and Grayson savored it. He loved this part—the manipulation, the control. It was his game, his rules, and he knew that whoever survived would be broken in ways that no one could imagine.
"Get in," Grayson snapped, his voice sharp. The hunters shoved the first few vampires into the arena, pushing them toward the opening in the platform. The sizzling green barrier hummed ominously, and Eric took a step back, his body tensing as he mentally prepared himself.
Eric's eyes locked onto the others now, seeing how they watched him with sharpened gazes. He knew that each one was thinking of how they could take him down and claim their freedom.
The last vampire to be shoved onto the platform stumbled, his eyes wide with fear. The energy barrier flared, and he quickly scrambled into the center of the platform. Grayson's voice rang out again, mocking and playful.
"Let the game begin!" he declared.
Eric's muscles coiled, his senses heightened as he studied the movements of the prisoners around him. He could hear the soft shuffle of their feet, the desperate, strained breaths of those who still had the strength to fight. The fear, the desperation—they were palpable, raw. And with each passing moment, Eric could feel the weight of their collective gaze on him.
They would come for him. He could feel it in his gut, that gnawing certainty. Eric gritted his teeth and dropped into a defensive stance, preparing for the inevitable.
Grayson's laughter echoed through the room, chilling in its cruelty. He took out the whip at his side, moving so fast Eric couldn't comprehend anything until he felt the tight leather on his neck pulling him forcefully to his doom.The pressure of the material against his throat made it hard to breathe, and Eric struggled against it, his hands clawing at it. But it was no use. Grayson's strength overwhelmed him as he shoved Eric violently into the center of the platform.
Eric's body hit the cold surface with a hard thud, and before he could regain his bearings, Grayson's voice cut through the air, cruel and mocking closing the opening.
"Go on, vampire. Show them what you're made of," Grayson taunted, his voice laced with malicious amusement.
As Eric tried to push himself up, his feet scrabbling against the cold, unforgiving metal, he instinctively backed toward the edge of the platform, wanting nothing more than to escape the confines of the cage. But as soon as his fingers brushed against the sizzling green barrier, pain shot through him like lightning. His body convulsed from the electric current that surged through him, and his vision blurred from the intensity of the shock. He gritted his teeth, but the searing pain made his legs give out, sending him collapsing onto the floor once again.
Grayson's laugh rang out, louder now, as he closed the opening to the cage, trapping Eric inside. The sound of the gate clanging shut felt like a death sentence, and Eric's pulse hammered in his ears. He could taste the blood in his mouth, the metallic tang of desperation. Grayson's smug face peered through the bars, savoring every moment of Eric's torment.
"Whoever survives here gets to leave, remember?" Grayson called out mockingly, before his voice dropped into a darker tone. "Be prepared to fight for your life."
Eric forced himself to stand, his body aching from the pain. His head spun as he glanced around the cage. There were three vampires in total with him, each one glaring at him with a mix of anger and calculating coldness. Their eyes flickered between Eric and each other as they assessed their competition. Their bodies were scarred, and their clothes were ragged, but there was a fire in their gaze—hunger, determination, and perhaps, pity. But mostly, there was a cold sense of competition.
They were sizing him up—measuring his worth, as if deciding whether he was a threat. The vampires moved toward him, they could tell he was newly turned. His body still bore the marks of his transformation—his movements too fresh, his scent still too strong, too raw.
One of the vampires, a tall man with dark eyes and ragged hair, sneered at Eric. "Fresh blood, huh? There's no way you can survive an attack from three seasoned vampires." he growled, his voice low and gruff, almost a warning.
Eric didn't answer. His focus was on the cage and the other vampires. His eyes darted from one to the other, watching their movements closely, looking for any sign of weakness. The last thing he wanted was to show any fear. Fear would get him killed.
The tall man took a slow step forward, his eyes glinting with cold amusement. "You're not ready for this," he said, his lips curling into a sneer. He moved with surprising speed, and Eric instinctively took a step back, putting distance between them.
But the other two vampires moved too. One of them—a woman, her face gaunt and eyes hollow—sidestepped to Eric's right, forcing him to turn his attention there. Her lips parted in a twisted smile. She wasn't in a hurry to strike, but the intent was clear—she was waiting for him to make the first move.
Eric's muscles tensed, his senses sharp. His body was still healing, the bites and cuts from Grayson's torture slowing him down. But even with his weakened state, he could feel the blood stirring in his veins. His teeth were sharper now, fangs peeking past his lips—his vampire side threatening to take over completely. The power was there, but so was the pain from earlier. It made him hesitant, unsure.
One of the vampires lunged at him suddenly, and Eric's instincts kicked in. He sidestepped at the last second, narrowly avoiding a powerful strike. But the vampire didn't miss. His fist landed hard in Eric's side, and pain flared up in Eric's ribs. He grunted, trying to shake it off, but before he could react, the woman on his right made her move, slashing at him with claws that gleamed in the dim light.
Eric twisted, barely managing to avoid the strike, but his shoulder grazed her hand. His blood simmered beneath his skin, and his eyes flashed with a deadly glint. These vampires were no strangers to this kind of life, and their desperation would drive them to do anything.
Grayson's voice echoed through the room again. "Fight, kill, survive, or die—your choice."
The choice was clear. If Eric didn't fight, he would become another casualty in Grayson's twisted game. He could hear the whispers of the other vampires around him, their words filled with malice and anticipation.
The vampire growled, annoyed. "You're not quick enough," he spat. "You don't even know how to fight."
Eric didn't speak. He just observed, his cold stare fixed on the vampire, waiting for the next move.
Grayson watched from the side, his eyes sharp, an amused grin pulling at his lips. The room was silent except for the occasional shuffle of feet, the tense anticipation hanging thick in the air.
The vampire launched another attack, this time a vicious swipe at Eric's chest. It grazed him, and the force of it sent Eric stumbling back. He grunted in pain but didn't show weakness. Blood trickled from the wound, but it healed almost immediately, slower than usual.
"You can't kill me," Eric muttered, just loud enough for the vampire to hear, but it was less of a threat and more of a quiet statement.
The vampire laughed harshly, circling Eric. "You think I can't?" He grinned wide, revealing sharp fangs. "You're a fucking baby, still clinging to the hope that you can survive."
Eric's eyes never left the vampire, but he was still silent. His fangs sharpened in response, and the air around him seemed to thrum with tension. But he didn't speak.
"Wait."
The three vampires stepped back immediately, bowing their heads in respect, though their eyes still burned with a sadistic desire to finish what they started. Eric was left gasping on the floor, barely able to sit up, blood dripping from his wounds.
Grayson was leaning against the side, watching with a mixture of amusement and detached interest. His gaze flicked over to Eric, who was struggling to stay conscious, too weak to even try to get up.
Grayson chuckled, his voice cold and calculating. "You know," he said casually, "I didn't think you'd be this easy. Guess I misjudged you." He took a step forward, his boots clicking against the floor.
Eric's vision was still swimming, but he barely managed to lift his head enough to meet Grayson's gaze. His body was bruised, bloodied, and the taste of copper lingered in his mouth. Not yet.
The three vampires, however, didn't seem to care about Eric's defiance. They were only eager to finish what they'd started, eyes alight with excitement at the thought of taking down the newcomer.
Grayson turned his back to Eric, ignoring him for a moment, then clapped his hands together. "Alright, boys. Time to play," he said, his voice smooth and cruel. "Finish him."
Eric's heart pounded in his chest as the three vampires closed in on him again. He barely had time to react as the first one grabbed his arms, pinning them behind him, while the others moved in to strike.
Grayson smiled down at him, watching the struggle with casual amusement, his eyes cold and unreadable. "Welcome to the real world, kid," he muttered, before stepping away leaving the room, letting the others continue their beating.
Eric's world was slowly fading to black as the vampires took their turns, beating him without mercy, knowing they had him at their mercy. The cage around him seemed to tighten with every blow and it was only when Grayson had left the room.
Eric felt the weight of Grayson's words hit him like a physical blow. Finish him. The words reverberated in his mind, and for the first time, he let himself truly consider the possibility. If he died here—if he truly was going to die—what would that mean for Alaric? The one person who had given him a sliver of something to live for? What would happen to Alaric if he, Eric, wasn't around to stop this nightmare?
In that moment, the pain in his body seemed to recede into the background, replaced by a cold, dark rage that began to grow from the very pit of his soul. An anger. A sense of utter betrayal and fury.
Alaric…
He could see it vividly, Alaric's face—cold, emotionless, and detached as always—but even he would feel the loss, wouldn't he? A wave of possessiveness washed over Eric, and the thought of Alaric seeing his dead body, lying there in this godforsaken place, made his insides twist in an almost painful fury.
That was it. That was the line they had crossed.
Eric's mind snapped.
He felt everything inside him break in a way that was entirely new. It was as if some barrier, some restraint, shattered deep within him. His blood boiled, his veins blackened, and his pupils narrowed into a savage gleam. The humanity that had clung to him, the one small tether that had kept him sane—gone.
No one but Alaric could kill him. The night he met Alaric, he vowed he would follow that monster and only Alaric could decide his fate.
He could feel the violent surge of power rising in his veins, filling him with an undeniable urge to destroy, to tear everything apart. A feral growl rumbled deep in his throat as his fangs extended, his grip on his humanity slipping further and further. He could hear the vampires laughing, taunting him, but it was no longer about their words. It wasn't about them. It was about him. About Alaric.
Without thinking, without hesitation, Eric moved faster than anyone could blink. The world slowed around him as his rage drove his every action,his consciousness had faded replaced by the monster within .
The vampire who had been taunting him most, the one with the bloodshot eyes, didn't even have time to register the danger before Eric was upon him. With a savage snarl, Eric sank his teeth deep into the man's neck, the flesh parting like paper beneath his assault. Blood poured into his mouth in thick, warm rivulets, and Eric drank deeply, fiercely, as if trying to swallow the man's very essence.
The taste of blood was intoxicating, and the rush of power it brought surged through him like fire. His hands gripped the vampire's body, his fangs tearing deeper into the skin, ripping at the carotid artery with a vicious, unrelenting hunger.
The vampire screamed, but it was too late. Eric's strength was overwhelming, his rage boundless. He felt the man's body twitch and struggle beneath him, but it only spurred Eric on. He drank faster, harder—feeding on the anger, the pain, the overwhelming sense of injustice. How dare they even think they could kill him? How dare they touch what was Alaric's, make him believe for a second that his life was expendable?
His eyes flashed, glowing with the dark power surging through him. His veins were black, creeping up his face, his skin stretched tight over the sharp angles of his bones. His breath came in harsh, ragged gasps, and he snarled as he ripped the last life from the vampire's body.
With a sickening crunch, he pulled away, his fangs still dripping with blood. The vampire's lifeless body crumpled to the ground at his feet. Eric stood there, trembling with rage, but now... now the chaos was just beginning.
The other vampires stood frozen, eyes wide in shock, but Eric barely noticed them.
There was no more fear in him. No more restraint. Just a savage, psychotic need to protect.
The room seemed to spin, the air thick with the smell of blood, the sound of Grayson's cold laughter echoing in his ears. But all Eric could hear now was the sound of his own heart.
He turned his bloodstained face toward the other two vampires, and his gaze alone was enough to send a shiver of fear through them. They hadn't seen him—truly seen him—until now. But now they would.
He was going to make them pay.
The vampire who had spoken—still trying to regain her composure after witnessing the brutal display—staggered back, wide-eyed and panting. "A vampire... a vampire can't drink from another!"she gasped, trying to steady himself, trying to find a way to distance himself from the madness unraveling before him.
He didn't respond. He didn't need to. The vampire had no idea how wrong he was—how far gone Eric had become. There was no humanity left in him. No repulsion for the blood of his own kind. The taste had become intoxicating, addictive—a hunger that wouldn't be sated.
The words had barely left the vampire's mouth before Eric was on him. He moved like a shadow, a blur of motion that no one could follow. Before the vampire had even realized what was happening, Eric was on him, his hands gripping his throat in a crushing hold.
There was no hesitation. No mercy.
With a snarl, Eric twisted the vampire's head violently, throwing her to the ground. The others didn't even have time to react as Eric was already sinking his fangs into the trembling vampire's chest. But it wasn't blood he sought this time.
With a sickening crack, Eric dug his claws into the vampire's ribs, his movements quick, sharp, and precise. The vampire's screams echoed in the room, but they were cut off as Eric ripped into the chest with an animalistic force.
Within seconds, his hands were wrapped around the vampire's heart. It pulsed once under his fingers, a final, frantic beat of life before Eric squeezed. With a sickening squelch, the heart was torn from the vampire's chest, the blood staining Eric's hands as he held it aloft in a grotesque trophy of his violence.
The vampire's body went limp, crumpling to the floor, lifeless and defeated.
Eric stood over her, breathing heavily, blood dripping from his lips. His eyes were blackened, hollow, devoid of any trace of the man he used to be. His thoughts weren't his own anymore—they were consumed by a singular purpose.
To destroy anyone who stood between him and Alaric.
With a deep, guttural growl, Eric turned to the remaining vampire, his gaze like a predator's locked onto its prey. The vampire staggered back, his eyes wide with terror, but there was nowhere to run.
Eric was done playing games. And they were about to learn exactly how far he could go.
"Who's next?" Eric whispered, his voice cold and unnatural as he wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving his target as he smiled.