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Anastasia watched as Victor moved to stand in front of her, shielding her from the enraged crowd armed with spears, swords, and torches. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably.

"Please, don't. You're wounded and they won't stop. They're going to hurt you. Please," she sobbed, clutching his blood-stained shirt.

His grip on his dagger tightened, his eyes flickering to the deep, gaping wound in his shoulder. He winced but stood firm, a deep frown etched on his face. "I will let no one lay their filthy hands on you or our child," he said, his voice resolute despite the pain.

"Please, Vee, for my sake. Please!!" she screamed, desperation lacing her voice.

At the front of the crowd, a familiar face came out: Damon, his expression twisted into a sinister smirk. He brandished a bloody, wolfsbane-laced dagger. "I would love to watch but, I have a date. Kill him. I want her alive though," he commanded, then turned away, walking through the middle of the crowd as if he had all the time in t