The roar of Adrian's motorbike echoed through the streets of Sidan, cutting through the morning bustle as he weaved through traffic. The weight of the conversation with Dr. Blake sat heavy on his mind. "No wounds, no trauma, and yet… completely drained." The phrase stuck with him, refusing to be dismissed like the routine horror stories he'd come across before. He shook his head, gripping the handlebars tighter. Vampires. The word sounded ridiculous even as it lingered in his thoughts. The doctor was an academic, grounded in science why would she even hint at something so absurd? Adrian had covered strange cases before, but nothing as inexplicable as this. "Probably a cult," he muttered, trying to rationalize it. "People always need someone or something to blame." Cults were real, vampires weren't. That was the simplest explanation. Yet, the details of the case stubbornly refused to fit into the tidy boxes of logic. Broad daylight, no visible wounds how could a person be drained of blood without any sign of trauma? The harder he tried to connect the dots, the more the lines blurred. He sighed, pulling into the parking lot of Storm Clouds Station, his workplace and personal war zone for uncovering the truth. The newsroom was a cacophony of noise, bustling with activity as reporters typed furiously, phones rang off the hook, and editors shouted across desks. Adrian pushed through the chaos, dodging interns with stacks of papers and photographers with gear slung over their shoulders. His editor, Carter Quinn, was hunched over his desk, scribbling notes on a legal pad while holding a phone between his ear and shoulder. The moment he spotted Adrian, he motioned for him to come in. "Tell me you've got something worth my time," Carter barked, slamming the phone down. His tone was as sharp as the man himself gruff, no-nonsense, and impossible to impress. Adrian handed him the folder containing his notes from Dr. Blake. "It's…weird, Carter. The victims were completely drained of blood, but there were no wounds. No cuts, no punctures. Nothing." Carter raised an eyebrow, flipping through the papers. "No trauma? So, what, the blood just walked out of their bodies?" "Exactly. That's why Blake mentioned vampires." Adrian's voice was hesitant, already bracing for the inevitable ridicule.
Carter snorted, tossing the folder back onto his desk. "Vampires? Wolfe, are you seriously telling me you buy into that garbage? Come on, man. You're better than this." "I don't," Adrian replied quickly, shaking his head. "I'm saying it's probably a cult ritual or something equally twisted. But it doesn't add up, Carter. There's no logical explanation for this. I need more time to dig deeper." Carter leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. "Fine. But listen to me, Wolfe. If you come back to me with some Dracula bedtime story, I'll have you covering cat fashion shows for the rest of your career. Find me the truth nothing less." Adrian nodded and left the office, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He needed coffee, and fast. The office diner was a small, cluttered corner near the newsroom, a haven for reporters looking for a quick caffeine fix. Adrian poured himself a cup of steaming black coffee, letting the bitter aroma wake him up as he leaned against the counter. Back at his desk, he began sifting through old reports, his fingers scrolling across the keyboard as his screen filled with articles. Similar cases popped up isolated incidents over the past decade, all dismissed as accidents or animal attacks. Yet, they shared eerie similarities: bodies drained of blood, no visible wounds, no witnesses. As he leaned back, mulling over the data, a conversation from a nearby desk caught his attention. Two interns were whispering animatedly, their words just loud enough for him to catch snippets. "Did you hear the rumors?" one of them asked, her voice low but excited. "Yeah," the other replied. "Something about a secret cult meeting in the forest. Apparently, they're trying to summon the devil or something crazy like that." The first girl giggled nervously. "People will believe anything these days. Can you imagine? A bunch of lunatics chanting in the woods, thinking they're summoning the Dark Lord." Adrian froze, his mind racing. A secret cult meeting in the forest… Could this be connected to the strange deaths? It might be a coincidence, but he couldn't afford to ignore it. He glanced at the clock late afternoon. If he wanted to check it out, he'd need to wait until nightfall. The thought of wandering into the woods alone unsettled him, but it might be the break he needed. Finishing his coffee, Adrian stood and grabbed his bag. If there was one thing he had learned in his short career, it was that truth didn't come to those who waited. It was earned by those who dared to chase it, no matter what