Gilbert was on edge. For weeks, bodies had been turning up across the city, each one more gruesome than the last. The police were desperate for answers, but none came. The killings were too clean, too deliberate—evidence was scarce. The fragile peace between vampires and werewolves was now under threat, and it was only a matter of time before tensions boiled over.
The authorities had reached out to the Dark Moon Society, the city's organized werewolf faction, hoping for cooperation. For years, there had been an unspoken truce between the two supernatural species. Each knew the dangers of exposing their existence to the human world, and both had worked tirelessly to keep their activities hidden. But rogue elements existed—those who defied the laws, who thrived in bloodshed and chaos.
In an effort to reassure the public, Mayor Lucas Benitez held a press conference. The aging politician stood behind the podium, cameras flashing, his expression grave as he vowed to solve the murders and restore order. When the conference ended, he retreated to his office, an expansive space adorned with deep blue walls, moon-and-star motifs, and a grand emblem of a bull—his zodiac sign, a reminder of his unyielding resolve.
As he poured himself a drink, his phone buzzed. He answered without hesitation.
A familiar voice, smooth and commanding, resonated through the speaker. "We have a problem."
Mayor Benitez exhaled, tension easing slightly. "Vlad, we need to act fast. The press is circling like vultures. People are scared, and I can't afford panic spreading across the city."
"I'm already handling it," Lord Vlad replied. "Preliminary reports suggest a vampire may be involved, but the nature of the attacks raises questions. Some of the bodies bear marks consistent with werewolf attacks. We need to be certain before taking action."
Benitez clenched his jaw. "Who's leading the investigation?"
"Gilbert," Vlad answered. "If we find the culprit, there will be no negotiations. The treaty must hold, or there will be war."
At the penthouse of the Mondec Empire, an emergency meeting had been called. The dimly lit chamber was filled with high-ranking vampires, each seated around a grand circular table beneath a massive chandelier. Shadows flickered against the walls, cast by the low, golden glow of candlelight.
Lord Vlad stood at the head of the table, his piercing gaze sweeping over those present. "The murders are drawing too much attention," he said, his voice a quiet command. "The police are already investigating, and if we're not careful, our world will be exposed."
The room was silent, heavy with tension.
Vlad continued, "Gilbert, you will lead this operation. Determine if one of ours has broken the law—or if the werewolves have violated the treaty. If they have, we will act accordingly."
Gilbert nodded, his expression unreadable. "Understood, Lord Vlad. I'll begin immediately."
Meanwhile, at the creek, Toff was enjoying a rare moment of peace. The water rushed gently over smooth stones, his bare feet soaking in the cool current. Leaning back against the mossy riverbank, he let his mind drift, staring up at the canopy of leaves above.
Then—movement.
A deer burst from the trees, its eyes wide with terror. It stumbled, barely managing to keep its footing as it disappeared into the woods. Toff sat up, alert, every nerve on edge.
A rustling sound followed. Something was coming. Something fast.
His instincts screamed at him to run, but curiosity anchored him in place. He stood slowly, shaking off the water from his legs. His clothes were soaked, clinging to his skin, weighing him down. With a swift motion, he peeled off his wet shirt and stepped carefully into the forest.
And then, he saw it.
A man. Completely naked. Kneeling over something.
Toff squinted, adjusting his position for a better view.
A mangled deer carcass lay at the man's feet, its insides torn open.
A sickening realization clawed at Toff's gut. The man wasn't just eating the deer—he was tearing into it with his bare teeth.
Toff's breath hitched. His body tensed. He stepped back instinctively—
A twig snapped beneath his foot.
The man's head jerked up.
Toff froze.
Sharp, wild eyes locked onto his, gleaming in the darkness. Blood dripped from the man's lips, his chest heaving as if caught between instinct and reason.
Toff's heart pounded. He took a step back—
But the man lunged.
In mere seconds, Toff was pinned to the ground, strong hands gripping his wrists, pressing him into the damp earth. His breath came in short gasps as he stared up into the face of his attacker.
And then, recognition struck him like lightning.
"Bret?!" he gasped.
The wild expression faltered. A flicker of something human returned to the man's gaze.
"Toff..." The name fell from Bret's lips, hoarse, uncertain.
Toff swallowed hard. Bret Zalazar. His high school classmate. The boy who used to sit next to him in chemistry class, cracking jokes and passing notes.
The same boy who was now hovering over him, naked, covered in blood.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
Then, Bret's grip loosened slightly, his expression unreadable.
"Toff," he whispered again, this time softer. A plea. A warning.
Toff's chest tightened, his mind racing. The reality of the situation crashed into him all at once.
Bret Zalazar wasn't just any man.
He was something else.
Something terrifying.
Something that should not exist.
And yet, here he was.
Toff had stumbled upon a truth far darker than he was prepared for.
And now, there was no turning back.
The dense forest stood eerily still, the scent of blood and damp earth thick in the air. The moonlight barely penetrated the thick canopy above, casting only fractured slivers of silver upon the ground. Toff's breath came in ragged gasps, his back pressed against the cold, muddy forest floor.
Bret loomed over him, his naked form slick with sweat and streaked with blood. His chest rose and fell heavily, his lips slightly parted, still stained with the remnants of his meal. The intensity in Bret's golden, beast-like eyes held Toff captive.
"Bret…what the?" Toff breathed out, his voice shaking between confusion and terror.
A guttural growl rumbled from Bret's throat as his fingers curled into the damp earth beside Toff's head. His face twitched as if struggling with an internal battle. His sharp jaw clenched, his breaths heavy and ragged.
"I—" Bret faltered, his voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to…you shouldn't have seen this."
Toff swallowed hard, his body trembling as he tried to shift beneath Bret's weight. But Bret didn't move. His naked skin burned against the cool air, yet he was unnervingly still, staring at Toff like a predator stalking its prey.
Toff's mind screamed for him to run, but his body betrayed him. The intensity of the moment was suffocating, an intoxicating mix of fear, adrenaline, and something else he couldn't quite name. His pulse thundered in his ears.
Then, a rustle in the bushes.
Bret's head snapped toward the sound, his nostrils flaring. Toff turned his head, just in time to see three figures emerging from the darkness. The first was Gilbert, clad in a long black coat, his sharp features cold and calculated. Behind him, two other figures, both vampires, their eyes glowing crimson under the moonlight.
"Toff, move," Gilbert commanded, his voice like ice. "Step away from him."
Bret growled, his entire body tensing above Toff. "No."
"Do you even know what you're doing?" Gilbert stepped forward. "You think you can control yourself? You think you can deny your nature?"
Bret's muscles coiled, his fingers pressing into the mud as his body shuddered violently. "I am in control."
Gilbert smirked. "Are you?"
In a flash, Gilbert moved. Toff barely saw it—one moment he was standing, the next he was lunging straight at Bret.
Bret roared, leaping off Toff just in time to dodge Gilbert's claws. The two collided mid-air with bone-crushing force, the impact sending shockwaves through the ground. Toff scrambled backward, watching in horror as the two supernaturals clashed.
Bret swung, his claws glinting under the moon, but Gilbert twisted effortlessly, dodging and countering with a savage kick to Bret's ribs. Bret snarled, his body crashing into a tree, splintering the bark upon impact.
The two vampires flanking Gilbert moved in to strike, but Bret was faster. He grabbed a thick branch, snapping it off with inhuman strength and impaling one of them through the chest. The vampire shrieked, turning to dust in seconds.
The other vampire pounced, fangs bared, but Bret caught him mid-air, twisting his head with a sickening crack. The lifeless body collapsed to the ground.
Gilbert barely reacted, his smirk widening. "Not bad."
Bret panted, his chest heaving. "I told you," he spat. "I'm in control."
Toff, still on the ground, was frozen, his mind reeling from everything he had just witnessed. His breath came in sharp gasps as Bret's golden gaze flickered toward him.
"Toff…" Bret whispered, stepping toward him.
Gilbert, however, moved between them. "Enough of this."
Bret growled but didn't advance. The silence stretched, thick with tension.
Then Gilbert sighed. "Come with me, Bret. Before more of my kind come looking for you."
Bret's jaw tightened, his gaze darting between Gilbert and Toff. Finally, he exhaled and nodded.
Gilbert turned to Toff. "You saw nothing tonight."
Toff clenched his fists, his pulse still hammering, but he nodded. He didn't know what else to do.
Bret hesitated for a moment before stepping past him, his fingers ghosting over Toff's wrist in a fleeting touch. Toff stiffened at the warmth, the brief connection sparking something deep inside him. Their eyes met, an unspoken promise lingering between them.
Then, just like that, Bret was gone, disappearing into the night alongside Gilbert.
Toff sat there for a long moment, staring at the darkness where they had vanished.
He had no idea what the fuck he had just gotten himself into.