Chapter 5: the price of survival
The vampires didn't move.
The air in the room felt thick, suffocating, as though the walls themselves were closing in.
Cain could feel every heartbeat around him. Elias's, Riven's, the vampires' — all of them beating like drums in his ears. The hunger was still there, gnawing at him, but there was something else too, something darker.
Control.
He needed control.
Elias stood between Cain and the vampires, eyes narrowing as he sized up the situation. His posture was rigid, but there was no denying the way his hand twitched toward the gun hidden under his jacket. The tension was palpable.
Riven was the first to break the silence. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of someone who had seen too many blood-soaked nights. "We don't want to fight."
The vampire who had spoken before — the one with the black hair — laughed softly, a cruel, almost mocking sound. "But you're not in control here, are you?"
Cain's fists tightened at his sides, his knuckles turning white. He could feel the darkness inside him stir again, the beast in him straining against the chains he had tried so hard to put on it. But he held back. Barely.
The vampire took a step forward, eyes flashing with predatory delight. "You think you can escape us, Cain? You think running is going to save you? It never does."
Cain's lips curled back in a snarl. "We're not your property."