That was enough.
A few of the younger Lycans snapped.
A vampire walking into their lair and threatening their leader was insult enough. Being told he could end Lucian whenever he pleased was something their pride couldn't tolerate. Control was never their strongest trait to begin with.
Snarls ripped through the room.
Bones cracked. Spines arched. Flesh tore and reformed as they shifted mid-stride, claws punching through skin, jaws extending into full beast form. The transformation was violent and fast.
They lunged at Ethan together, roaring—
"RRRRAAAAAHHH!"
A deep, guttural SNARL shook the walls as claws tore through the air, teeth bared, spit flying, aiming to rip him apart before Lucian could even react.
Ethan didn't move.
Not a step. Not a flinch.
The first Lycan was inches from his throat when its body suddenly froze mid-air, suspended like it had slammed into invisible glass. The second and third met the same fate—caught, lifted, their momentum stolen.
Ethan raised one hand lazily.
The air tightened.
All three were yanked upward and smashed into the ceiling hard enough to crack concrete.
BOOM!
Concrete split with a sharp KRAAAK!
Dust and debris rained down in a heavy
THUD-THUD-THUD as their massive bodies scraped and slid, claws screeching uselessly against cement—SKRRRCHHH—growling but unable to drop.
He tilted his head slightly.
"I did say," Ethan murmured, voice calm but cold, "don't try to kill me."
With a small flick of his fingers, the Lycans were flung aside like broken dolls.
They smashed into the far wall, concrete denting inward with a brutal CRASH, then collapsed in a tangled heap, coughing, snarling weakly, stunned.
The rest of the room went very quiet.
Ethan lowered his hand and looked back at Lucian as if nothing significant had happened.
"Now," he said evenly, "shall we continue?"
That only made the tension snap harder.
A few of them, still furious and humiliated, raised their weapons and opened fire.
Gunshots exploded through the lair.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Muzzle flashes lit the room as bullets tore toward Ethan in a violent storm.
"Sigh… why don't you listen when I try to talk peacefully?" Ethan muttered.
The bullets hit him.
But they didn't pierce.
They struck his chest, his shoulders, his forehead—each impact making a dull metallic tink… tink… tink as if they had hit reinforced steel. The rounds flattened and dropped to the floor, clattering uselessly around his boots.
He stood there in the middle of the gunfire without so much as blinking. His coat didn't tear. His skin didn't break. Not even a bruise formed.
The storm of bullets continued for a few seconds longer, then slowed as confusion began to replace rage.
Ethan tilted his head slightly, red eyes calm, almost bored, as if he were being lightly inconvenienced rather than attacked.
He was just about to move—
"Stop! All of you!"
Lucian's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and furious, carrying the weight of command. It wasn't a shout—it was a roar that vibrated through the concrete walls.
The gunfire ceased instantly.
"Did I ask you to shoot?" Lucian demanded, eyes blazing. "Is my leadership a joke to you?"
They lowered their weapons immediately, shame and frustration mixing on their faces.
Silence fell again.
Spent casings rolled across the floor.
Ethan glanced down at the pile of flattened bullets at his feet, then looked back at Lucian with faint amusement.
"Well," he said lightly, brushing imaginary dust from his coat, "at least someone here understands hierarchy."
"Leave. All of you," Lucian ordered, his voice low but absolute.
He had lived for centuries—fought elders, commanded armies—and even he could tell this vampire was something else entirely.
When the room cleared, the air felt heavier.
Ethan rolled his shoulders once and stepped forward slightly.
"So," he said, extending his hand casually, "do we have cooperation?"
Lucian didn't take the hand.
"And I know you're also in cahoots with Kraven," Ethan added, tone calm. "But tonight he dies. His betrayal is already known to the coven."
Lucian's expression didn't change.
"I don't care about him," he replied coldly. "He became useless the moment he failed."
"Good. Then let's talk about the real plan. I'll help you kill Viktor."
Lucian's eyes narrowed.
"What would you get out of that? From what I've seen, you don't need my help to kill him. If you want him dead, you could do it yourself. Why bother asking me?"
Ethan tilted his head slightly, amused.
"I enjoy revenge stories," he said. "When the one who suffered delivers the final blow, it's… entertaining. If I kill Viktor, he dies quickly. No weight. No meaning. But if you kill him, there will be shock, rage, disbelief—centuries of history collapsing in his eyes. That's the kind of ending I prefer."
Lucian studied him in silence.
This vampire was powerful, confident, and disturbingly detached. Not cruel for cruelty's sake—just interested in outcomes.
Twisted, perhaps. But useful.
"And in return?" Lucian asked carefully.
"You leave Michael Corvin alone," Ethan replied without hesitation. "I gave him my word. You don't touch him. You don't send anyone after him. If you do… I will have to move. And whoever you send won't be returning."
There was no threat in his tone. He spoke as if he were simply stating a fact, nothing more.
Lucian studied him for a moment longer before a slow smile spread across his face. He stepped forward and clasped his hand firmly.
"Happy cooperation," Lucian said. He didn't mind letting go of minor concerns, not if it meant getting closer to his revenge.
*****
A/N: The Patreon version is already updated to Chapter 126, so if you'd like to read ahead of the public release schedule, you can join my Patreon
👉 patreon.com/JamesA211