Chapter 17
The night had teeth again. It bit through the air, sharp and cold, the kind of chill that crawled up your spine and told you something was coming.
We had been running on fury and exhaustion for days, ever since the ambush at Havoc, ever since the demons had crawled out of the shadows like a living curse. And now, finally, we had the name of the bastard who’d fed Caesar our plans.
The traitor.
I stood in front of him now, in one of our interrogation basements, there is dim light, blood on the concrete, the smell of fear thick in the air.
The man was shaking so hard his teeth clattered.
He was human, middle-aged, one of our lower-level suppliers, the kind who ran shipments and pretended not to know what was inside.
He wasn’t pretending anymore.
Roman stood to my right, arms crossed, his face unreadable.
Lucien was all ice, the strategist, watching the man’s every twitch.
Viking paced in the background, the sound of his boots striking the floor like the ticking of a bomb.
And Draugr leaned against the wall, silent, eyes shadowed with the weight of what he already knew.
“Tell us again,” Roman said, voice deceptively calm. “Who gave you the order?”
The man swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “C-Caesar. I swear, I didn’t know it was him at first, he used another name. He… he said if I passed along any movement, any shipments tied to the Dragic name, he’d make me rich.”
“Rich,” Viking repeated, his tone a low snarl. “You sold us out for money?”
The man’s eyes darted to him, then away. “I didn’t know he’d, he said it was just business! I didn’t think he’d…”
He didn’t finish. Viking moved too fast for him to flinch, one hand grabbing his collar, the other slamming him against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. “You didn’t think,” he hissed, fangs flashing. “You think ‘business’ covers betraying blood, you piece of…”
“Viking,” Roman cut in, voice sharp.
Viking froze but didn’t release him. His breathing was ragged, that dangerous spark in his eyes flaring brighter.
Lucien stepped forward, calm but deadly. “Where is he now?”
“I don’t…”
I moved before Roman could stop me. My hand shot out, slamming into the man’s chest and pinning him to the wall beside Viking’s arm. “Don’t lie,” I growled, letting a hint of the predator edge into my voice. “You smell like fear. You know exactly where he is. Say it.”
The man whimpered, shaking his head, until my grip tightened. Then the words came spilling out.
“The docks!” he choked. “Pier 7, the old storage yard. He’s meeting someone there, I think it’s a buyer. It’s tonight!”
Roman’s eyes flicked to mine, and that was all I needed.
“Then we move.”
We rolled out within minutes, a convoy of SUVs cutting through the night like silent predators.
My pulse was a drumbeat of purpose and fury.
Caesar. The name alone made my fangs ache. He’d once been part of our bloodline.
Our father’s brother. Now he was a rot in the family tree, and we were going to carve him out.
Runa’s face flashed in my mind, soft and glowing, the way she’d looked the night she told me she was pregnant. My chest tightened. I couldn’t let that kind of innocence exist in a world where Caesar still breathed.
As the vehicles pulled up to the docks, the air changed. The metallic tang of salt and iron filled the night. Shadows crawled along the edges of stacked containers, and somewhere, a chain creaked in the wind.
Lucien was the first out, signalling with two fingers. Draugr and Viking followed, spreading out. I took point beside Roman.
And that’s when I saw him.
Caesar.
He stood at the edge of the pier, coat flapping in the breeze, silver hair gleaming under the floodlights. His posture was regal, arrogant, the same poison that had always lived in his veins, but it wasn’t just him.
Malakai was there too.
The demon’s presence was unmistakable, black veins snaking up his neck, eyes burning with that molten hunger. He smiled when he saw us, sharp and wrong.
“Well,” Caesar said, his voice carrying easily over the wind. “The Dragic princes, all together. How sentimental.”
Viking snarled, but Roman raised a hand, he was calm, steady. “You’ve been playing with fire, old man.”
Caesar smiled, slow and cruel. “I built the fire. You just inherited the ashes.”
“Where is he?” I snapped. “Where’s Malakai’s handler?”
He chuckled. “You’ll see soon enough.”
That was the only warning we got. The air cracked open. Demons poured from the shadows, crawling over the containers, their eyes glowing like coals. We moved as one.
The night filled with the sound of snarls and screams, the sharp metallic tang of demon blood coating the air.
Viking went feral first, his roar echoing over the docks as he tore through three demons with his bare hands. His tattoos burned with power, his eyes wild. He was a storm made flesh, unstoppable and terrifying.
Lucien covered him with gunfire while Draugr and I flanked left, slicing through the demons that tried to encircle us.
Then from the corner of my eye I saw Malakai. He moved like smoke, blades in both hands, eyes locked on me.
We collided hard, sparks flying as steel met steel. His grin widened as his blade glanced off my ribs. “Still protecting your little human, Volken?” he hissed.
My rage was instant, blinding. I drove my knife into his side, twisting until he screamed. “You’ll never speak her name again.”
He laughed, blood spilling down his chin. “I have a gift for you…” Malakai says with an amused sneer, “Your woman’s father is inside, I believe she has been looking for him.”
He slashed again, and I caught his wrist, breaking it with a snap that echoed. He staggered back, clutching the wound, and for a moment, victory surged in my chest, until the shadows shifted behind him.
Something…no, someone grabbed him.
A rift opened, black and burning, swallowing him whole. His laughter echoed as he vanished.
“NO!” I lunged forward, but it was too late. The rift closed, leaving only the stink of brimstone behind.
At the same time, Caesar’s voice cut through the chaos. “Until next time, nephews.”
We turned, but he was gone too.
When the fighting ended, we were standing amid bodies and smoke, the docks painted red. The demons had been slaughtered, but their master’s had slipped the leash again.
Roman wiped his blade on a corpse’s coat, jaw tight. “He knew we were coming. Again.”
Lucien’s eyes were hard. “Someone’s feeding him live intel. We didn’t leak this time.”
“Then he has another source,” I muttered.
Draugr had been quiet through it all, standing near the edge of the pier, eyes distant, unfocused in a way that made my skin crawl.
“Draugr,” Roman said carefully. “What do you see?”
He didn’t answer at first. Then, slowly, his head turned, eyes glowing faintly with that eerie silver light.
“I saw Caesar,” he said, voice low and heavy. “And Malakai. But not here. Later. He’s shaking hands with someone… older. Not human. I can’t see the face, but the aura…” He shuddered. “It’s vampire. Ancient. Someone powerful.”
“Who?” I demanded.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. But the moment I saw it, I felt… dread. This man, whoever he is, isn’t Caesar’s pawn. Caesar is his.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Roman stepped closer, his expression grim. “Then we’re not just at war with Caesar and his demons anymore. There’s something bigger behind this.”
Lucien holstered his weapon, his tone measured but cold. “Then we find him. We find them both.”
Viking cracked his neck, still trembling from his berserker rage. “And when we do, I’ll tear them apart myself.”
I glanced out over the water, the moonlight glinting on the waves, the faint scent of sulphur still lingering in the air.
Caesar was gone. Malakai had escaped. And as I wiped the blood from my blade, one thought burned through me: No one touches my family. No one.
Because whatever darkness waited ahead, I’d face it, fangs bared, claws ready with Runa and our unborn child safe behind me.
Even if it meant burning the whole damn world to ash.
I turned, shoulders coiled, and forced my way back into the warehouse throat-deep in smoke and char.
The docks smelled of iron and oil and something fouler, the sulphur bite of demon ash.
The fight had passed through here like a storm: splintered pallets, shredded tarps, the blackened puddles where demon blood had mixed with seawater and settled into a greasy film.
Bodies lay half-buried under debris, some human, some not.
Demon-warped corpses still twisted with a grotesque afterlife; their mouths open in permanent gurgles.
A few human shapes had the glassy stare of those who’d been used then discarded, the telltale black veining that spoke of possession crawling under the skin.
My boots crunched over the mess. Every step tightened the knot in my gut. Malakai’s words…her father is here…had been a whip across a wound that had not finished closing.
I moved upstairs on instinct, one eye on a darkened office with a locked steel door.
The handle was warm. Someone had been here not long ago.
I paused as I could feel the echo of a presence through the boards, sliding the lock with a small pry.
The door groaned, and the smell hit me first: stale sweat, the copper tang of old bites, and underneath everything the faint, unmistakable rot of demon residue.