"Selene," Viktor said, turning toward her, his tone shifting smoothly from command to persuasion, "are you truly going to stand there and watch?"
He did not acknowledge his weakened state, did not admit he could not face Lucian as he was. Instead, he chose the weapon he had always relied on—control.
"You killed my family," Selene said, her voice flat and stripped of emotion.
Viktor's expression tightened for a fraction of a second before settling into something that almost resembled wounded dignity.
"I gave you eternal life," he replied. "I made you a vampire. I raised you. I taught you everything you know. I treated you as my own daughter."
Selene did not move.
"That decision," Viktor continued, lowering his voice as though confessing something painful, "was made in haste. I regretted it afterward." He held her gaze steadily. "That is why I treated you differently. It was… atonement for my mistake."
The words were carefully chosen, measured, polished by centuries of manipulation.
Ethan watched from the side, arms folded, unimpressed.
Wow. The old man really had refined his acting over the years. If he hadn't known the truth already, he might almost have believed him. Longevity apparently came with dramatic talent.
"You were nothing when I found you," he said, soft but firm. "You would have died with them. I gave you purpose. I gave you strength. Everything you are… is because of me."
Lucian let out a low, humorless breath. He had seen this before—Viktor bending others with guilt, turning victims into loyal soldiers with nothing more than carefully arranged words.
This time, he did not wait.
With a sudden snarl, Lucian lunged forward. His claws extended in a blur of movement and slashed across Viktor's chest, lifting him straight out of the coffin as if he weighed nothing.
The impact sent Viktor crashing into the stone wall, the force cracking it on contact. Dust rained down as Lucian's hand closed around his throat.
Viktor choked, fingers digging into Lucian's wrist, but his eyes did not look at Lucian.
They searched for Selene.
There was still calculation in them, still the hope that she would intervene.
"Not all of us are like you, monster," Lucian said, his voice low and shaking with contained rage. "Killing your own daughter for the sake of your precious laws."
He tightened his grip, lifting Viktor slightly off the ground.
"Some of us care more about the ones we love than about immortality, bloodlines, or control."
Viktor's expression twisted—not with guilt, but with fury.
"Do not dare speak of my daughter," he hissed, struggling for breath. "She was everything to me."
His gaze hardened, pride overtaking weakness.
"But she chose you," he spat. "She carried your child in her womb. Do you truly believe I would allow her to live after that?"
The words settled in the chamber like poison.
There was no remorse in his tone. Only cold conviction.
"Then let those laws save you now," Lucian replied, his voice dropping into something far more dangerous.
There was no shouting in it anymore, no frenzy—just centuries of restrained hatred finally given shape. Even he had not expected to see Viktor reduced to this state, pinned against stone, stripped of authority and throne alike.
Selene stood still.
She had expected arrogance. Denial. Manipulation. What she had not expected was this—Viktor admitting it without shame.
Killing his own daughter for the sake of blood purity and rigid laws. The man she had followed for centuries, defended without question, suddenly felt like a stranger wearing a familiar face.
Lucian's grip tightened.
"I waited centuries for this moment," he said, and now the control in his voice began to fracture. "Do you know what it feels like to watch the woman you love die in front of you? To watch your unborn child die with her… while you are forced to stand there and do nothing?"
He leaned closer, eyes burning.
"Why am I even asking? You're a heartless monster."
Bones cracked as Lucian began to shift. His spine arched, muscles expanding, skin tearing as fur pushed through.
The transformation was violent and raw, driven not by rage alone but by long-buried grief. Viktor struggled in his grip, weakened from awakening, trying to pry free—but Lucian's strength overwhelmed him completely.
In one brutal motion, Lucian's jaws closed around Viktor's skull.
There was a sharp, wet sound.
Viktor's head tore free.
Blood sprayed across the stone as the body collapsed, and Lucian flung the severed head aside. It hit the floor and rolled, coming to a stop near the coffin.
Lucian stood there breathing heavily, the werewolf form towering, then slowly settling back as the shift receded.
"You know, Viktor," Lucian muttered, looking down at the corpse, "what you did to your daughter was completely wrong. Fathers are meant to protect their family."
His voice hardened.
"Some don't deserve that title."
Lucian slowly turned, intending to say something—perhaps gratitude, perhaps acknowledgment—to Ethan.
But what he saw instead made him pause.
Ethan had stepped behind Selene and casually covered her eyes with one hand.
"Alright," Ethan said dryly, glancing at Lucian's current state. "Ladies wear pants, please."
Selene immediately slapped his hand away.
"I've seen worse," she said flatly, though there was the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth.
Lucian looked down at himself, then toward the still-groaning Kraven on the floor.
Kraven, who until now had been praying everyone forgot he existed, froze.
Lucian gave him a long, thoughtful look.
"Well," Lucian said calmly, stepping toward him, "you won't be needing them."
Kraven's eyes widened.
"Wait—"
A sharp tearing sound echoed through the chamber.
Ethan folded his arms, nodding approvingly. "See? Cooperation between races. We're already making progress."
*****
A/N: The Patreon version is already updated to Chapter 133, so if you'd like to read ahead of the public release schedule, you can join my Patreon
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