Chapter 353: If I Want to Survive
Meredith.
Arriving at the main living room, I sank into the long sofa and exhaled as if my body had been carrying stones all day.
Not long after, a servant brought in a silver tray with a small assortment of pastries and candied fruits.
I dismissed her quickly, then let the sweetness melt against my tongue, chasing away the tightness in my chest.
But the silence lingered, and along with it were my thoughts.
"Valmora," I called inwardly. "How many vampires did you kill when you were Serena’s wolf?"
Her laugh was low and amused, like smoke curling around a flame. "I can’t count them all, Meredith. The number would bore you."
I rolled the stem of a grape between my fingers, thinking. Then the question came without warning. "Why do you hate them so much?"
Her tone sharpened, no longer playful. "Because they are ticking time bombs, you can dress them in silk, make them swear oaths, lock them in cages... it doesn’t matter. They explode. Always."
I frowned, narrowing my eyes at the gleam of light on the tray. "Explain."
"They start wars without cause," Valmora said with a cutting voice. "They don’t need a reason to sneak, to attack, and to spill blood. They kill for the sake of it, for hunger, for thrill. That is their nature. That is what they are."
The sweetness in my mouth turned bitter.
Her words cut deep, echoing through me long after they had ended. But I couldn’t just swallow them whole.
I knew vampires could be horrible, but I believed they were not all cut from the same cloth.
"That sounds like prejudice," I said slowly, twirling the grape between my fingers until the skin tore. "You paint them all with the same brush, as if none of them could be different."
Valmora’s laugh slithered back into my mind, sharp as glass. "You think like a child, Meredith. That’s what makes you weak sometimes."
My jaw tightened. "Or maybe it’s what makes me humane. If you judge an entire race by its worst, you leave no room for anything else. No room for truth or change."
There was a small pause, then her voice came low, not mocking this time, but edged with something heavier.
"The truth, Meredith, is that vampires don’t change. They are corrupt, so they rot. Give them time, and they will always show their fangs. I learned that too many times, in too many wars."
I pressed my lips together as the sweetness on my tongue soured, my fingers still resting on the rim of the tray.
But Valmora didn’t let me linger in silence for long. Her voice pressed in again, heavier this time.
"Your softness will get you killed if you carry it into tomorrow. Do not underestimate them, Meredith. A vampire moves faster than your eyes can follow. Their hunger drives them. Their cruelty blinds them. When you meet one, there will be no time to wonder if they’re different. You strike, or you die."
The bluntness made my heart thud hard against my ribs.
"If you want to survive, if you want to prove yourself to Draven and fight him, then forget this notion that they can be anything but what they are."
I gulped down saliva as I turned her words over in my head when Dennis strolled into the living room without warning, as if he had already claimed the space for himself.
Without so much as a greeting, he leaned down, plucked a slice of melon from the tray on the low table, and popped it into his mouth.
I gave him a look. "You couldn’t at least ask first?"
He smirked, dropping onto the sofa beside me instead of choosing one of the empty seats. "Why ask when you would only say yes anyway?"
I narrowed my eyes. "And what if I had said no?"
"Then I would have taken it faster," he replied with a grin, reaching for another piece until I pulled the tray closer to myself.
"You are really something else."
"Of course," Dennis echoed proudly, lounging back with his hands behind his head. Then he glanced sideways at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But you laughed just now, so I must be doing something right."
I rolled my eyes, though a small laugh did escape me despite myself. Dennis always had this way of barging in and pulling me out of my own thoughts—whether I wanted him to or not.
Dennis leaned back into the sofa like he had no care in the world, chewing the melon with lazy satisfaction.
But something in me stirred—Valmora’s words still lingering—and before I could stop myself, I asked, "Dennis, how did you feel the first time you killed a vampire?"
He stilled for a heartbeat, then gave a crooked smile as he reached across to steal another slice of fruit from my plate. "Honestly? I was satisfied."
"Just like that?" I pressed, searching his face.
His eyes sharpened a little, the playfulness dimming. "Especially after one of those bastards nearly killed me a few months before. That night, I wasn’t just fighting. I was exerting my revenge."
I blinked, piecing the memory together. "That night the vampires snuck into this estate..."
Dennis nodded slowly. "Yeah. Same night. That was the first time I took one down."
My chest tightened, but he spoke with such matter-of-fact certainty that some of the unease in me began to loosen.
Then he glanced at me again, his smirk returning just faintly. "Don’t look so tense, Meredith. Draven’s been training us on how to kill vampires long before that night. I may have gotten my first taste then, but trust me, we all knew what to do."
I breathed out, still clinging to his words.
Just then, he leaned forward, his tone firm now, without a trace of his usual teasing. "When it’s your turn, don’t hesitate. Don’t give them any time. Snap the life out of them and make sure they stay dead. That is the only way."
His serious gaze locked with mine without flinching.