Danill stood at the front of the mansion grounds with the six werewolves spread behind him carefully.
Nobody moved recklessly.
Nobody rushed.
The cold night wind brushed through the trees surrounding the estate while the vampires remained scattered across the outer grounds like predators circling prey. Their glowing red eyes reflected sharply beneath the moonlight and their pale faces looked almost corpse-like from a distance.
But Danill stayed calm.
Very calm.
His yellow eyes scanned the battlefield carefully while faint fog continued escaping from his mouth with every slow breath he took. His claws flexed once at his sides before relaxing again.
He already alerted Irina before stepping outside.
That was the priority.
Survive until backup arrived.
Not glory.
Not revenge.
Defense.
That was why he had only partially transformed his men. Full transformations would burn through stamina too fast and make them harder to control if the battle dragged on.
