CHAPTER THREE

The cold barrel of the weapon pressed against Avery's neck, sending a shiver down her spine and causing goosebumps to form on her skin.

"Do you already know who we are?" The woman inquired before pulling the gun away, gripping Avery's shoulder with a force that threatened to sprain it.

Avery gritted her teeth, enduring the pain as numbness spread through her shoulder. She found herself exposed to the rest of the mercenaries, who cast cold glances in her direction.

With a rough push from the woman, Avery began to move forward, her mind racing as she searched for an opportunity to escape.

"Don't attempt anything funny... You won't even twitch before your head is separated from your body," the woman warned, instilling fear in Avery, who swallowed hard in response.

She didn't want to meet her demise at the hands of these bloodsuckers, who possessed the speed of a moving car and the strength to demolish buildings with their bare hands.

"They must be Vampire novices," she pondered. Based on the news she had heard, vampires were classified into four groups: the vampire King, vampire nobles, damphirs, and vampire novices.

The vampire King stood as the most powerful among them, surpassing all others in strength. Vampire nobles, the royal class, could harm a damphir but wouldn't emerge unscathed due to the power scale.

The trained vampires known as damphirs served as guards, possessing certain abilities. Lastly, the vampire novices, the weakest of the vampire groups, were armed with modern weaponry and had the power to eliminate multiple humans.

Observing the mercenaries wielding firearms and confirming her suspicion that they were vampire novices, Avery had no reason to doubt her assumption.

"Move, or I'll move you," the woman behind her said calmly, her words laced with venom. Without waiting to decipher the lady's intentions, Avery quickened her pace until she stood before all of them.

Now in close proximity, Avery finally beheld the face of their new "prey." The man was heavily bruised, blood streaming from his mouth and nose, and his eyes devoid of the will to fight back. It was evident that he had endured brutal beatings, as if he had stolen something of great value from them.

As the rain intensified, transforming into a torrential downpour with winds blowing from different directions, none of them paid any attention, including Avery, who stared at the battered man with pity.

His hair, matted against his face, concealed one of his eyes, making it difficult for Avery to ascertain if it was black. Despite his pitiful state, he possessed a striking handsomeness. Even with a swollen, bleeding lip, she could imagine the presence of small, pink lips. Brown eyes and bristled facial hair added to his overall appeal.

"Are you attacking an innocent man simply because you possess the power to do so?" she muttered, unaware that her words had reached the ears of the mercenaries.

"She's not supposed to live!" exclaimed one of the mercenaries, a man, causing Avery's heart to race once again. "You want to defend a stranger you've just met, right? Well, defend this," he added, swiftly positioning himself beside Avery with a knife in hand.

With a forceful grip, he seized her hand, and although Avery anticipated a throat-slitting or stabbing, he merely cut her wrist, allowing her blood to trickle slowly and fall to the ground.

They awaited something, rain pouring relentlessly and thunder crackling, while Avery pondered why the man had performed such an act. Soon enough, her heart quickened as she heard low growls emerging from behind her.

Whipping her head around, her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as she beheld the man who had been lying on the ground, his eyes now glowing red as he glared at her. He too was a vampire!

The man lunged to his feet, seeming to have lost all sanity, and rushed toward Avery, attempting to drain her of blood.

A gust of wind swept past her, and the stranger lay unconscious in the arms of another mercenary. Though filled with fear, evident by her racing heart, Avery would be lying if she denied her relief.

"Leave, or we may reconsider," the woman cautioned, after pressing her tongue against Avery's hand and licking the wound.

Before her eyes, Avery's wound began to heal, vanishing within seconds without a trace or even a scar.

"Leave!" the woman yelled once more, leaving Avery no choice but to flee back in the direction of her car.

...

Drenched by the rain, Avery exited her car, her heart still racing. With each step, her waterlogged shoes made squelching sounds.

She stood on the front porch of her house, twisting the doorknob to enter. Removing her shoes, she tossed them into a nearby basket.

A sigh escaped her lips as she made her way toward the kitchen, expecting to find her father there, as was the usual routine after her workday.

"Dad!" she called out as she entered the dark kitchen, switching on the lights, only to discover it empty.

Her heart quickened as she recalled the recent incident. What if they had come to kidnap or, worse, kill her father?

"Dad!" she screamed even louder, frantically searching for him.

Her mind in disarray, she checked cupboards, ventured into the basement and attic, but he was nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, the sound of ceramics clinking and chairs scraping against the floor reached her ears, emanating from the dining room. Trembling, she hesitated to proceed, frozen in place.

"Avery?"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she heard her father's voice calling her from the dining room. She rushed toward the sound, finding him setting the table. Without waiting for him to speak, she sprinted into his embrace, holding him tightly.

Her father suffered from dementia, inherited from his father, and it had manifested after the passing of his wife. Memories slipped away from him gradually but surely, including the memories of his daughter.

"Did something happen?" he inquired, gazing at her while confusion marked his face.

"Nothing happened," Avery assured him, her voice choked as she pulled away, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Come, come, I prepared dinner for both of us," he invited, pulling out a chair for her.

Avery gazed at him, tears still flowing, as he smiled and moved to her side of the table, unveiling her plate.

He lifted the cover and furrowed his brow upon seeing it empty. "I could swear I cooked," he mumbled, scratching his head. "The turkey is..."

"There," Avery interjected, pointing to a large uncooked turkey on a chair, far from the table.

"Oh! It seems I forgot to prepare dinner. Just wait a moment..." he said, attempting to rectify his oversight.

Unable to contain her tears any longer, Avery stood up abruptly from the table. "I'm not hungry," she uttered, running to her room.

"Wait! It was a mistake."

Little did he know that she wept not because he had forgotten to cook but because she wept for him. His memories slipped away even faster than she had anticipated.