As the full-on gunfight between vampires and Lycans erupted, the civilians were the ones caught in the middle.
Automatic fire tore through the station. Bullets screamed past pillars, shattered tiles, punched through benches. People dropped, screamed, crawled—panic clogging every inch of the platform.
Then Ethan moved in.
He slipped into the chaos.
A burst of gunfire cut across the platform—he leaned aside, bullets tearing through empty air where his head had been a second earlier. He was already somewhere else, grabbing a man by the collar and pulling him out of the line of fire.
Gone.
Another spray. He ducked low, slid across the floor as rounds sparked above him, reappearing beside a woman frozen in terror. One hand on her arm—
Gone.
Ethan weaved through the bullet rain, every step timed between muzzle flashes. A round skimmed his shoulder; he twisted, let it pass, then was already behind a fallen bench, hauling two people away in the same breath.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
Bullets slowed near him—warped just enough to miss—clattering uselessly against steel and concrete. Lycans kept firing, vampires kept returning fire, neither realizing the platform was emptying out faster than their eyes could track.
Within seconds, the screams were gone.
No bodies. No civilians.
Only spent casings rolling across the floor and the echo of gunfire between vampires and Lycans—still fighting, unaware that every innocent who should have died was already out of reach.
Ethan slipped in behind a concrete pillar, chest rising just a little faster than normal.
"Damn," he muttered. "Me and my kind heart."
The words were barely out when pain flared across his back.
THUD. THUD.
Bullets slammed into him. He staggered half a step and turned.
The shooter stood a few meters away, lips curled in a cruel grin, gun still smoking.
"Die, bloodsucker."
He fired again.
Ethan vanished from the line of fire.
The rounds tore into the pillar instead, stone exploding outward. The man froze, confusion flashing across his face. Those bullets were filled with UV radiation fluid—custom-made for vampires.
He had seen them hit.
So why was the target still standing?
Cold hands clamped around his neck from behind.
Before he could react—before fear could even register—
CRACK.
His head twisted all the way around. His body dropped, lifeless, weapon clattering across the floor.
Ethan let go and rolled his shoulder with a sharp hiss. Bullets slid out of his back and hit the ground one by one. The torn flesh sealed itself almost instantly, skin knitting together like it had never been broken.
"Damn," he muttered, flexing once. "My skin's really not resistant to high-caliber bullets."
He looked back toward the ongoing firefight, eyes glowing faintly red.
On Selene's side,
She was braced behind a concrete pillar, guns steady, firing in sharp controlled bursts. Lycans dropped back into cover, snarling, returning fire. It was messy.
Then she saw it.
One of the Lycans broke from the firefight, grabbing a terrified civilian and dragging them toward the tunnel stairs.
A blur crossed her vision.
Something appeared between the Lycan and the human, so fast Selene almost missed it.
Then suddenly, a figure appeared behind the Lycan.
No warning. No sound.
Just there.
A sharp kick slammed into the Lycan's groin.
The man gasped, eyes bulging as all the air left his lungs at once. His grip loosened, knees buckling as he collapsed forward in a useless heap.
The civilian tore free—and dropped to all fours.
He scrambled backward, palms scraping the floor, eyes locked on Ethan. The glow caught him fully now—red, glowing eyes. Inhuman. His breath broke into panicked gasps as instinct took over and he clawed away like an animal cornered.
Ethan tilted his head.
"Hm?" He stepped closer, studying the man's face. Then his brows lifted. "Michael… Corvin?"
That was unexpected.
Not just a random human—the Michael Corvin. The anomaly. The original strain. The bloodline that birthed both vampires and Lycans.
For a second, Ethan simply stared.
Then a slow smile crept in.
Well. That's a gift.
A walking blood bank. Pure BP potential.
Michael tried to bolt.
"Where are you going, my dear blood donor?" Ethan said casually.
Invisible force snapped into place. Michael froze mid-step, body lifting upright, limbs locking as if pulled by strings. He stood there, rigid, eyes wide, breathing shallow.
"Relax," Ethan added. "You're not in danger."
He turned his head—and caught Selene watching him.
Ethan lifted a hand and gave a brief, friendly wave—then winked with one eye.
He did want to talk to Selene, but right now it wasn't the right time. Soon, he would get the opportunity. Sooner or later, she would have many questions about the situation—and the person he had kidnapped was one of those questions.
Then space folded.
With Michael still suspended in his grip, Ethan vanished—leaving Selene staring at empty air, smoke drifting where they'd been a second before.
"What the hell was that…?" Selene muttered.
That wasn't a Lycan. Lycans didn't have glowing red eyes. And that speed—neither vampires nor Lycans moved like that.
And worse—why had it taken that man?
The same human the Lycans had been targeting.
Her thoughts were cut short as movement flashed at the edge of her vision. The remaining Lycans were retreating, disappearing into the tunnels, boots pounding against concrete.
Selene's grip tightened on her guns.
Questions could wait.
She broke into a run, chasing them into the darkness, the image of red eyes and impossible speed burned into her mind.
*****
A/N: The Patreon version is already updated to Chapter 112, so if you'd like to read ahead of the public release schedule, you can join my Patreon
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