Alicarde recognized this particular Strigoi immediately. While his hatred for Zagarath burned brightest, this nameless Strigoi was a close second on his list of despised enemies. He loathed this creature even more than the mafia members who had collaborated with the monsters.
This hideous abomination had been the one to kidnap Anne on that fateful night. The sight of it reignited the fury he had felt during that humiliating defeat—the fear and anguish that had nearly broken him.
The violet streaks in Alicarde's eyes flared with intensity, his desire to kill reaching a fever pitch. With a swift, merciless motion, he raised his sword high and brought it down, pinning the Strigoi to the ground.
The blade pierced through the creature's waist, trapping it between the cold, hard earth and the unforgiving steel. His eyes were cold, his emotions tightly controlled, though a dark smile curled under his hood.
