Vampire Queen : Fated Love

As George sat across from Josh, half-listening to his friend's romanticized retelling of his date with Sarah, his phone suddenly buzzed on the table.

Josh, mid-sentence, paused and gestured at the phone.

"Who's that? Your secret admirer?" Josh teased.

George chuckled, grabbing the phone.

"Not quite,"

he muttered as he checked the screen. The caller ID showed an unregistered number.

Frowning, he stood up and answered the call, walking toward the window for some privacy.

"Hello?" George said cautiously.

The voice on the other end was deep and gruff, but there was an unmistakable edge of nervousness in its tone. It was his father.

"George,"his father began, speaking quickly and in a hushed voice,

"are you... safe right now?"

George's brow furrowed.

"Safe? Yeah, I'm fine. Why? What's going on?"

There was a pause.

George could hear the faint shuffling of papers and the distant sound of a clock ticking.

"Listen," his father said after a moment,

"if anything unusual happens, you stay out of it. Don't get involved, do you understand me? And—"

The line crackled briefly, and George thought he heard muffled voices in the background, but they were too faint to make out.

"Dad, what's going on? Did something happen? What about those Maf... Organization ,"

George pressed, his tone firm but tinged with concern.

His father hesitated.

" Stop " By hearing those word George Dad shut at him in phone and said

"Just... promise me you'll stay safe, George. Don't ask questions. Not yet."

Before George could respond, the call abruptly ended.

He stared at his phone, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach.

His father's tone wasn't just scared—it was terrified.

---

Meanwhile, far away from George father room in a dimly lit room, a tall man stood, his figure cast in shadow.

His broad shoulders and commanding presence made the space feel smaller than it was.

He held a steaming cup of coffee in one hand, the other resting casually on the back of a chair.

Beside him, two figures stood with equal composure, both sipping their own cups.

One of the figures, a woman with piercing eyes and an elegant demeanor, broke the silence.

"So, Alia is still out there," she said, her voice smooth but laced with disdain.

The man took a slow sip of his coffee, his face still obscured by shadows.

"Yes," he replied, his tone calm but carrying an underlying menace.

"She thinks she can erase her past and live among humans as one of them."

The other figure, a younger man with a sly grin, chuckled.

"That filthy woman," he sneered,

"pretending she's human now? It's pathetic."

The woman tilted her head, her expression unreadable.

"Do we move now?"

The tall man set his coffee down on the table, the sound of the porcelain cup clinking echoing in the silence.

"No," he said firmly.

"Not yet. We watch. We wait. The time will come when her facade crumbles, and when it does..."

His voice trailed off, but the implication was clear.

The younger man smirked, leaning against the wall.

"She has no idea we're onto her. That's the best part."

The woman nodded.

"But we can't underestimate her. She may be filthy, but she's cunning. She always was."

The tall man's eyes glinted in the dim light.

"She's no match for us now," he said simply.

"Not with what we know."

---

Back at the William house, George returned to his seat, his expression clouded.

"Everything okay?" Josh asked, noticing his friend's unease.

George forced a smile and nodded.

"Yeah, just my dad being... weird."

Josh shrugged, not pressing further. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts about Sarah.

But George couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

His father's tone, the abrupt end of the call—it all felt wrong.

And though he didn't know it yet, the shadowy figures discussing Alia were just the beginning of a storm that was about to descend on their lives.

As he tried to push the uneasy thoughts away, George's phone buzzed again.

This time, it was a text voice message from his father.

"Whatever happens, don't trust anyone. Not even those closest to you. And get the hell out from that wome..." [ cut off ]

George stared at the voice message , his chest tightening.

Something was coming, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to face it.

---

The dim light of a flickering bulb illuminated the small study where George's father sat, anxiously wringing his hands.

Papers and documents lay scattered on the desk before him, but his attention was elsewhere.

He kept glancing at the clock on the wall, the rhythmic ticking amplifying his tension.

He had been dreading this moment, yet he knew it was inevitable.

Suddenly, the faint creak of the front door opening reached his ears.

His heart raced as heavy footsteps approached.

The air in the room grew colder, and his pulse quickened with each second.

Two figures emerged from the shadows, their presence commanding and eerie.

Their features were strikingly unusual: elongated, animalistic ears resembling those of wolves twitched slightly, as if picking up every sound in the room.

The taller of the two was a man with a lean build and piercing yellow eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light.

Beside him stood a woman, her sharp features framed by dark hair, her smile revealing unnaturally pointed teeth.

---

"Ah, Mr. Everet," the man said smoothly, his voice low and threatening.

"You didn't think you could avoid us forever, did you?"

George's father, Mr. Everet, stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

"I—I don't know what you're talking about,"

he stammered, though his trembling hands betrayed his fear.

The woman stepped forward, her sharp teeth glinting as she grinned.

"Oh, come now. Let's not play dumb," she said, her voice dripping with malice.

"You know exactly why we're here."

The man crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly, his wolf-like ears twitching.

"Where is the locket?"

he demanded, his tone cold and devoid of patience.

Mr. Everet's eyes darted to the desk, then back to the intruders.

"I don't have it," he lied, his voice barely above a whisper.

The woman's grin widened, and in one swift motion, she lunged forward, grabbing his arm.

Her sharp teeth sank into his right hand with a sickening crunch.

Mr. Everet cried out in pain, blood dripping onto the wooden floor.

"Still playing games?" she taunted, licking the blood from her lips.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

The man took a step closer, his glowing eyes locking onto Mr. Everet's.

"You sought help from the Lamas," he said, his voice laced with disdain.

"Did you really think they could protect you and your family forever? Every year, you beg them for protection, and every year, they fail."

Mr. Everet clenched his bleeding hand, tears streaming down his face.

"I didn't... I didn't have a choice!" he choked out.

The man sneered.

"There's always a choice. And you made the wrong one."

The woman released his arm and stepped back, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief she produced from her pocket.

"We don't care about your excuses," she said coldly.

"We only care about the locket. Hand it over, and maybe we'll consider sparing you."

Mr. Everet slumped back into his chair, clutching his wounded hand.

"I don't have it anymore," he muttered, his voice shaking.

The man narrowed his eyes.

"Liar," he hissed.

"We know you hide it somewhere . That little trinket, they always wear in there neck? And you steal it from them 2 years ago and later ask for forgiveness ? And then they give you one of there precious locket "

Mr. Everet's head shot up, panic flashing in his eyes.

"Y-yes..h they give me. But I lost it many months ago," he pleaded.

"He doesn't know anything about it."

The woman chuckled darkly.

"Oh, we're not here to hurt him. Not yet, anyway. But if you continue to defy us..." She let the threat hang in the air, her meaning clear.

The man leaned in closer, his voice a low growl.

"We won't kill you, Mr. Everet. That would be too merciful. No, we're going to stay close—very close—until you hand over that locket. And if you don't..."

The woman finished the sentence for him, her voice icy.

"We'll make sure your family pays the price."

Mr. Everet's shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew they wouldn't stop until they got what they wanted.

The locket was more than just an object to them—it was a key, a piece of something far greater than he could comprehend.

The man straightened, his wolf-like ears twitching as he turned to leave.

"We'll give you some time to think," he said, his tone almost mocking.

"But don't take too long. Our patience is limited."

The woman followed, pausing at the door to glance back at Mr. Everet.

"Oh, and do try to clean up the mess,"

she said with a smirk, nodding toward the bloodstained floor.

As they disappeared into the shadows, Mr. Everet collapsed back into his chair, his mind racing.

He had to warn George. But how?

The locket was already in his possession, and if these creatures were willing to go to such lengths to obtain it, there was no telling what they would do next.

For now, all he could do was bandage his wounds and pray that the Lamas' protection would hold.

But deep down, he knew the storm was about to began.

--

They truly were Were wolf.

(Note: "𝕎𝕙𝕪 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟'𝕥 𝔾𝕖𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕖'𝕤 𝕕𝕒𝕕 𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝔾𝕖𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕖?")