Draven.
The morning was still young, but it already felt heavy.
I sat behind my desk, sleeves rolled to the forearms, pen set down on the leather blotter, my thoughts caught between unfinished paperwork and the quiet burn in my chest that had stayed since dawn.
Then the landline rang.
Its shrillness cut through the stillness of my office, sharp as a blade.
I picked it up, pressing the receiver to my ear.
"Alpha Draven speaking."
"Alpha," ca the voice, smooth but carrying that edge of careful diplomacy. "Good morning. It’s Mayor Brackham."
I leaned back slightly in my chair, fingers tapping once on the desk.
"Brackham," I returned. "Let’s hope you’re calling with good news."
A mont of silence answered .
The kind of silence that wasn’t empty, but weighed down by excuses waiting to spill.
"Unfortunately," Brackham began, voice dropping, "my team... could not find the evidence to prove that what is killing my people is the sa thing killing yours."
I closed my eyes, just for a breath, then opened them again, gaze turning to the window and the mist curling beyond it.
"Then that ans," I said quietly, "that our deal has reached its end. And the grace I extended to you these past two weeks has expired. Which ans," my voice sharpened, "King Alderic will soon hear of the deaths and disappearances of our people on Duskmoor land. Deaths your governnt refused to give us an account for."
On the other end, I heard Brackham’s sigh, deep and almost theatrical.
"I acknowledge that, Alpha. But—" his voice changed, hopeful, "—before you make your report... I’d ask you to watch the video I sent to your email."
Right then, a notification flashed across my laptop screen.
I shifted my gaze to it, still holding the receiver. It was from Brackham.
"What did you send?" I asked, my tone even, but cold.
"Please," he said, oddly confident now, "look at the footage first."
I switched the phone to my left ear, freeing my right hand to move the mouse and open the mail.
A single file attachnt. No explanation. Just a title: "Footage_EastWood_CAM07."
I clicked on it.
The video opened, grainy and grey-green in the low light.
At first, it showed nothing but a clearing in the woods, patches of dry leaves. Then, there was movent at the edge of the fra.
Sothing stepped closer.
Pale arm, unnaturally white, like moonlit bone under skin. Its head was turned away, the side profile hidden by a thick fall of black hair.
And then... the fingernails lengthened, twisting into sothing crueller. Claws.
It scread—a ragged, distorted sound that hissed from the speakers—before slashing at the cara.
The screen tumbled, capturing only leaves, a crooked branch, then static.
The clip ended.
I let a single heartbeat pass to keep my face calm, even though inside, my pulse had skipped once.
A vampire.
Without doubt.
Transferring the phone back to my right ear, I asked, voice flat, "And what exactly is that, Brackham?"
He spoke quickly now, excitent bleeding into each word.
"That, Alpha, is a superhuman. We don’t know what it is yet, but we’re investigating. It seems," he almost laughed, "that your people aren’t the only type of superhuman in existence. This one is... different."
I exhaled, slow and deliberate. "Why send it to ?"
"Because," Brackham rushed on, "this might be what killed your people. And now it’s killing mine too. If you allow , I’ll keep investigating and give you answers very soon."
I watched his eagerness unfold, but my mind had already moved beyond.
I needed to know how he got the footage.
"How did you catch this on cara?" I asked, voice still mild.
"I ordered hidden CCTVs in several woodland spots," he admitted, shaless pride in his tone. "I was desperate to know what’s been slaughtering my citizens. And look—we caught sothing."
I narrowed my eyes, my jaw tightening.
The Vampires are vengeful and petty, and wouldn’t like the idea of them being watched. Though I don’t care for the humans, I needed to test Brackham just to hear his thoughts.
It was important that I know the kind of thoughts passing through his old-layered head.
"Brackham," I drawled softly, "aren’t you worried you might provoke the wrath of... whatever that is? Spying on them in their territory?"
He laughed lightly, careless and arrogant. "Alpha, this is Duskmoor land. That thing stepped where it shouldn’t. And now that we’ve seen it, I’m going to capture one of them. Then it will tell us about its kind—and where they’re hiding."
There it was.
The slip.
Clear as blood on snow.
In that mont, fury flickered in my chest, hot and quiet.
All these months of feigned innocence—and here he was, revealing the truth of what I suspected: Brackham wasn’t just complicit; he was leading it.
The sa kind of man who’d sign secret orders, run black sites, and dare to call it "protection" when questioned.
Brackham was definitely not oblivious to the disappearance of my people. He wasn’t just involved. He was the leader. The gang leader.
I steadied my voice, cold as steel.
"You want more ti to keep digging?" I asked.
"Yes," Brackham said quickly. "Just a bit more. I’m sure we can find sothing concrete."
"Then hear ," I said. "If you want your second chance, here’s my price: cancel the mandatory searches on my vehicles at the Duskmoor border. Clear them. All of them."
He hesitated.
"I will see it announced in tonight’s news," I added, voice low, final.
Before his answer could co, I dropped the receiver back into its cradle.
A hollow click echoed in the silence.
I leaned back in my chair, gaze drifting to the dying embers of the hearth across the room.
Rhovan stirred in the depths of my mind, quiet, as if waiting.
Brackham had played his hand.
And now, I would play mine.
The war he didn’t even care to avoid was close, and when it arrived, he would finally see the price of hunting wolves in the dark.
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