Chapter 361: Death on Two Legs
(Third Person)
"Sir!"
Mayor Brackham’s office door burst open with a loud crack. His secretary stumbled in, out of breath, clutching a tablet against her chest.
The panicked look on her face prompted him to rise immediately from behind his desk.
"What is it?" he demanded in a sharp voice.
"Sir—" she gasped, still catching her breath, "the city... is under attack. Reports are coming in from the mall district and surrounding blocks. People are saying they saw—"
Brackham’s eyes narrowed. "Saw what?"
"Weird creatures." The woman swallowed hard. "But I think it’s vampires, sir."
The silence stretched for a second as that word hung in the air like a curse.
Then Brackham’s expression twisted, first with shock, next with disbelief, and finally, the fury that came when a man’s pride was wounded.
"What!" he exclaimed with wide eyes.
His secretary gulped and lowered her head.
"Where is security?" He barked as he stormed into the hallway. "Get the control room on the line. I want every camera feed on the main screen, now!"
"Yes, sir!" she called, running to keep up with his long strides as she fiddled with her phone.
By the time Brackham reached the control room, the place was chaos. Officers were talking over one another, technicians frantically typing, a dozen screens flickering with live feeds of the city.
The moment he walked in with his coat flaring behind him, the voices fell to silence, and a bronze calm descended over everyone in the room, to which they all reflexively bowed.
The screens ahead of him glowed with dozens of city feeds, flashes of streets, sirens, chaos, all fractured pieces of a nightmare that had started only an hour ago.
"Report!" Brackham demanded.
An officer stepped forward, shoulders stiff. "Sir, we have confirmed multiple civilian casualties at the central mall district. Witness accounts describe fast and violent creatures, sir. We are verifying the footage now."
Brackham’s eyes narrowed. His stomach twisted.
He had already heard enough snippets from his secretary, but hearing it spoken aloud, here in his control room, made it real.
It was the vampires.
’So, the fire hadn’t finished the job?’
He thought to himself before returning his attention to them."Show me," he said coldly.
The technician at the central console enlarged one of the smaller camera feeds until it filled the large wall screen.
The first few seconds were grainy, showing normal shoppers, parents, and children. Then the camera jolted.
Screams tore through the speakers. Something darted past, and a figure slammed into the glass counter.
The camera caught the blur of movement, the gleam of teeth, and then blood sprayed the floor like spilt paint.
The sound died in the room, save for the faint hum of machinery.
Brackham’s hand tightened behind his back. His pulse drummed at his temple.
He had burned those monsters out of the Eastern woods. He had watched their ashes rise on a live satellite feed.
He had sworn to himself that not a single one of those blood-drinking parasites would ever breathe again. And yet, here they were, in his city. Killing his people.
"Where was this recorded?" His voice came low, dangerous.
"The mall, sir. There is more, if you want to—"
"Play it."
The officer hesitated only a second before opening the next video feed. This one showed the underground parking lot—dim, echoing, the kind of place where sound travels too far.
The camera shook, and then another figure, tall, composed and purposeful, moved into view.
"Pause," Brackham snapped as his eyes focused on the screen.
He knew that stance, that poise. It had to be Alpha Draven. He didn’t need confirmation, he would recognize that wolf anywhere.
"Play it again... slower," he ordered.
The vampire lunged. Draven sidestepped with deadly precision and struck. One clean blow, and the creature’s body hit the ground like a broken doll. The Alpha barely moved afterwards. He just turned his head, his eyes cold, calm, and calculating.
Brackham’s jaw flexed. He had known that Draven and the werewolves could deal with the vampires, yet seeing him there, fighting them, in the heart of Duskmoor, was like being slapped across the face by fate.
"Where were the police?" Brackham asked in a flat tone.
"Delayed, sir. The first responders didn’t understand what they were dealing with."
"Of course they didn’t," Brackham muttered, his voice cutting like a blade. "Because none of you have ever seen death walk on two legs before."
Then, he turned back to the screen, to the image of Draven frozen mid-strike, surrounded by vampire corpses.
The vampires were back. His so-called solution had failed.
The humiliation burned in Brackham’s chest like acid. He clenched his fists behind his back, forcing himself to stand straight.
"Lock the city down," he said at last, each word precise. "Every gate, every exit, every port. No one leaves or enters until I say so. Inform the central command: Duskmoor is now under a state of emergency. Activate curfew protocols immediately."
The officers rushed into motion immediately, phones ringing, lights flashing, and orders echoing.
"Prepare an official announcement," Brackham continued, voice steady but cold.
"We are telling the citizens that unidentified creatures attacked the city. There will be no mention of vampires or of anything supernatural. If they ask for proof, tell them it’s still under investigation. Our people need to fear, but not panic. We can’t afford more loss of lives and a riot. Besides, fear keeps them obedient."
"Yes, sir."
Brackham’s gaze lingered on the screen one last time. Draven’s presence was an insult, one that he would not forget.
He had watched Draven’s movements over and over, cataloguing the strikes and their timing. Each replay had been a quiet humiliation.
The Alpha had moved with a confidence that mocked his own contingency plans. The footage didn’t just show a man fighting—it showed a man who had turned slaughter into a craft.
It had made his control feel smaller, and his victory less complete.
Brackham turned sharply on his heel and left the room. The doors shut behind him with a metallic thud that echoed like a closing verdict.