My head throbbed like someone was banging a hammer inside my skull.
Last night's drink was supposed to help me forget — not dig up the things I buried deep.
Lately I have been having some weird images in my head
Today, I was heading back to the Red Sea — the place where I disappeared four years ago.
They say the sea gets its name from the reddish tint of its waters, caused by minerals and sunlight. But others whisper it's from blood. Old blood.
On one side of the sea is the Vampire Empire. On the other, the strongest of the werewolf packs.
And me? I'm somewhere in between. Neither here nor there.
I could've gone straight there. But I had unfinished business in a small town along the way — a no-man's land. Lawless. Wild.
Here, wolves can't shift, witches can't cast, and vampires lose their edge.
Everyone's equal. And vulnerable.
I stepped into a narrow alley. Patrick was already waiting, arms crossed, a tired smile on his face.
"You're late," he muttered. "Fren's been flooding my mind all morning. Says he's going to skin you alive."
I raised a brow. "Let him try," I said, rubbing my temples.
I'd locked my mindlink last night — needed to shut everyone out. Apparently, Fren, my overly dramatic second-in-command, didn't take it well. And now, he was the one shutting me out.
My wolf, Nala, snorted inside my head.
"Serves you right. You've been avoiding everyone lately."
"Not everyone. Just the ones who expect me to act like nothing ever happened."
I stepped into our small office — a hidden base tucked between two abandoned shops. Dust coated the windows. Papers were stacked high on desks. This was one of our safe houses — a place to gather secrets and keep the world guessing.
I flipped through some old files lying on the desk:
Missing Luna – 4 years ago
Disappearance of Elder Witch – 30 years
Tracking the Blood Witch
Unfinished contract: Nightshade Alpha assassination
All of them familiar. All of them cold.
None of them felt urgent anymore.
I was about to leave when I heard shouting from downstairs.
And then it happened.
A strange pull in my chest.
A tug.
Like something — or someone — was calling me.
I walked down the stairs slowly, not knowing what to expect.
Two children stood in the center of the room.
A boy and a girl. Twins. Around five or six years old.
The boy looked furious — fists clenched, eyes blazing.
The girl stood calm, arms folded, watching Patrick with a stare that didn't belong on someone her age.
And I… I froze.
Something about them stopped my breath.
They weren't just cute.
They were familiar.
My hands trembled as I gripped the railing.
I had never seen them before. But I knew them.
The girl's eyes flicked up — and locked with mine.
She didn't look surprised.
She looked… confused.
The boy turned to follow her gaze. The moment he saw me, his scowl faded. His eyes mirrored the same confusion.
That's when it hit me.
I didn't just want to protect them — I needed to.
Like they were mine.
Like they had always been mine.
My heart pounded in my chest. My throat went dry.
My feet moved before I could think.
I walked past Patrick, who gave me a worried look.
But I didn't stop.
I couldn't.
Because those kids…
They weren't strangers.
They were mine.