Chapter 221
( Third Person).
That was a mistake. A very big one from the Vampire, because in a flash, Draven moved.
One second, the vampire stood confidently—smirking. The next, he was gasping, clutching his stomach.
Draven’s claws had sunk in, then slashed upward in one smooth, brutal motion.
“You won’t live to touch a hair on her head,” Draven hissed.
The vampire stumbled back—but Draven was already behind him, elbow slamming into the back of his head.
The vampire fell to his knees, coughing up blood.
With a savage kick, Draven sent him flying against a tree. The bark cracked, and its bones shattered.
Regardless of the pain and the shock, the vampire tried to rise, one last desperate snarl on his lips—
But Draven was faster.
He charged, grabbed the vampire by the jaw, and ripped it sideways with a sickening snap.
The vampire’s body dropped limp to the ground.
Draven stood over him, breath steady, eyes glowing gold.
The moonlight caught on his bloodstained skin, making him look less like a werewolf—and more like a god of war.
In the silence, Jeffery and Dennis emerged from the woods. They stared at the mess, then at their Draven.
“Is it over?” Dennis asked.
“For tonight,” Draven answered without turning.
Jeffery nodded. “The others fled. We will track them when daylight breaks.”
“No need,” Draven replied as his eyes scanned the grounds one last time. “They’ve been long gone.”
Dennis shut his eyes briefly and let out a groan. “I think we should be expecting more visits from our cold-blooded newfound friends in the future.”
“If you ask me, I think they would visit really soon,” Jeffery commented, turning sideways to glance at Dennis.
“At least they wouldn’t underestimate us and send just ten next time. Or maybe, they will focus on the Humans and deal with them really well,” Dennis joked.
Draven spoke, his voice low but absolute. “Preserve a few of the best dead bodies and leave no traces of what happened tonight.”
“Good!” Dennis gestured with his hands. “Now, we don’t get to enjoy the rest of our sleep.”
Draven ignored his whines and gave another direct order. “We meet for a briefing after breakfast.”
—
Meredith didn’t bother looking at the clock. She had counted the minutes in her head anyway.
However, a few minutes later, the door creaked open, and the moment Draven stepped into the room, she smelled it—iron and ash, faint yet undeniable. Blood.
Even though his face was clean and his hands were no longer stained, the scent clung to him like a shadow.
He shut the door behind him quietly, eyes falling on her.
Meredith sat up in bed, her long silver hair spilling over her shoulders. Her voice was calm but laced with concern. “Is it over?”
Draven gave a small nod, his gaze steady. “Yes. There were ten vampires in total. We took out eight. Two escaped.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Were there any casualties on our side?”
“We lost two guards,” he said, his voice low. “Three others are injured but stable. The healers are tending to them.”
A breath of tension left her chest. It could have been worse. Much worse.
She nodded faintly. “At least most of our people made it through.”
Draven stepped closer to her, but kept a measured distance. “Go back to sleep. I will join you after I shower.”
She watched him quietly as he moved into the bathroom, the soft click of the door behind him. Then came the sound of water running.
Meredith remained seated on the bed, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her nightdress.
Inside the shower, Draven leaned into the spray, letting the hot water run over him in rivulets.
Steam rose around his body, but it didn’t fog the sharp thoughts brewing in his mind. He needed to leave for Stormveil by tomorrow morning.
The corpses would need to be sealed and taken as evidence to present to King Alderic, and every second mattered now.
He rinsed the last of the blood from his body, then stepped out and dried off. The cold hit him briefly as he changed into dark pants and a fresh shirt.
When he returned to the bedroom, Meredith was still awake—but as soon as she saw him, she lay down and turned her back to the open space beside her.
A faint smirk touched Draven’s lips at her quiet invitation.
He slid under the covers and pulled her back into his chest, the way she liked. She fit into his arms like a final puzzle piece.
His fingers brushed her side lightly, then stilled.
“When are you going to Stormveil?” she asked softly.
“Tomorrow,” he replied. “I at least have up to twenty-eight hours.”
There was a pause. He felt her hesitate.
“…Can I come with you?” she asked at last, her voice quieter than before.
He didn’t answer immediately. Then, with calm firmness, “No.”
She tensed just a little, and he could feel it.
“I will be too busy with meetings to keep my eyes on you,” he said, not harsh, just truthful. “Besides, your training can’t stop. It’s more important now than ever.”
She let out a long breath and said nothing.
“If you have any message for your grandmother,” he added gently, “I can pass it along.”
Her head tilted down slightly, as though the weight of disappointment was heavier than she expected.
“I will think about it,” she murmured.
Draven’s hand traced soothing lines along her arm. “Dennis will oversee your combat sessions while I’m gone.”
She blinked and then turned her head slightly. “Dennis?”
He gave a light chuckle. “He won’t go easy on you.”
Meredith sighed dramatically. “Perfect.”
Draven chuckled again and kissed the top of her head. “Good. I don’t want you soft. Not with what’s coming.”
Silence returned between them, but this time it was filled with warmth—not unease.
Eventually, Meredith’s breathing slowed, her hand curled lightly around his.
And Draven, though his mind stayed alert, allowed himself the smallest sliver of peace as he watched her drift off.