Chapter 23

As Mark prepared to light another molotov, crunching footsteps sounded through the intersection. Marlow strode forward, positioning himself in front of his useless followers, his eyes fixed on Mark with a cold, calculating gaze. Iris followed closely behind him, her expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Having observed the earlier events, Marlow felt a flicker of surprise as he watched Mark seemingly conjure the Molotov cocktail out of thin air. However, he dismissed it almost immediately, recognizing that no amount of trickery would save the pest from his wrath.

Marlow's gaze burned with intensity as he looked straight into Mark's eyes. {"The one who fights,"} he declared in anger.

His voice, laced with quiet menace, resonated as he thought of his followers that got beheaded and turned to ashes earlier that evening. {"You'll pay for that dearly,} he vowed. His words hung in the air, heavy with a painful promise of vengeance as he stared down Mark.

Even though he didn't understand the guttural vampire language, Mark's hair stood on end, goosebumps prickling his skin in response to the ominous tone of Marlow's voice. He shivers as he lit the Molotov cocktail and hurled it at Marlow with all his strength.

With a mocking expression, Marlow easily dodged the flaming projectile. Unfortunately for an unlucky vampire nearby, the Molotov cocktail found its target, smashing into the vampire and igniting upon impact. The flames intensified as the vampire desperately tried to extinguish the fire, while Marlow's other followers scrambled away from the fiery chaos.

Ignoring the commotion behind him, Marlow careened towards Mark with a blur. Taken aback by Marlow's speed, Mark hastily grabbed his shotgun from his storage space and pointed it, pulling the trigger. Marlow managed to catch and squeeze the muzzle. It exploded, sending shrapnel flying around them. Mark felt himself pelted with it as his arms and torso itched, warm blood flowing from the wounds.

Marlow snarled in anger as he too got pelted by the sharpnels, his flesh bearing the marks of it as black blood continued to flow. He backhanded Mark with force, connecting squarely with Mark's side, sending him crashing through a house. The impact smashed the wall, sending wooden debris and dust in all directions. Mark's blood trickled down his arms and torso from the shrapnel wounds, his clothes torn and dirtied from the blast. Disoriented, he struggled to regain his bearings, the taste of blood heavy in his mouth. Although he didn't feel pain, Mark sensed something was wrong with his ribs—subtle shifts and a sense of displacement, indicating they were likely broken.

Shaking his head, Mark stood up and looked at Marlow through the hole in the wall.

'Damn, he's fast,' Mark's pulsed raced as he met Marlow's cold black eyes. Mark sensed the odds were not in his favor and quickly planned his escape.

Before Mark could leave, he heard a muffled cry coming from a corner. Glancing in that direction, he saw a young woman huddled there. With Marlow slowly approaching, Mark hurriedly carried the her on his shoulder and ran toward the backdoor. As he turned the corner, he disappeared along with the screaming young woman.

Hastily, Marlow pursued them like a predator after prey. His frustration and fury intensified as he heard the woman's scream vanish with Mark's trace outside the backdoor. A primal growl escaped him, echoing through the empty space as his victims slipped away.

Consumed by rage, he smashed the door and wall, his power resonating through the crumbling structure as he vented his frustration.

Meanwhile, Iris dipped her finger into the ground, tasting the blood dropped from Mark. Her expression turned euphoric, eyes glinting with a mix of hunger and pleasure. Other female vampires followed suit, savoring the essence and reveling in the taste of their enemy's blood.

Watching them, Marlow's grew angrier. {"Enough of this nonsense!"} he bellowed, his voice echoing with authority. {"Find him! Now!"} His command sent the other vampires scurrying, driven by their leader's fury, as they hurriedly dispersed in search .

Zurial stepped forward, his voice measured. {"Marlow, our senses are weakened in the cold. It won't be easy to track him,"} he warned.

Marlow acknowledged Zurial's words, but he didn't care. He was determined to capture that pest. {"I'll tear every house or building in this town apart if I have to,"} Marlow vowed as he stared outside the dark night.

On the other side of the town, Eben, Stella, and Beau were walking cautiously around houses, their senses alert. Suddenly, something fell beside Stella, and they all got startled, Beau almost pulling the trigger of his shotgun in alarm.

Meanwhile, Mark, annoyed by the screaming woman, swiftly stuffed her mouth with a cloth to muffle her cries. Stella spotted Mark and rushed to him, her eyes filled with tears of joy.

As Stella hugged him tightly, she felt something hard and wet behind Mark. Pulling back, she looked at her hand and realized it was covered in blood. Her gaze shifted to Mark, her eyes widening in horror as she took in his bloodied and battered appearance. His face was smudged with dirt and streaked with blood, his clothes torn and stained.

A piece of wood embedded behind his shoulder deepening her concern for his well-being.

"Mark, you're hurt!" Stella gasped, her voice filled with concern. "We need to get that wood out of your shoulder. Hold on." .

Mark looked at the piece of wood embedded behind his shoulder, his expression a mix of surprise and realization. He hadn't noticed it earlier. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he joked, "Well, I always wanted a shoulder accessory. Do you think it complements my outfit?"

Stella snorted, unable to hold back a chuckle despite her worry, her face still etched with concern.

She supported Mark as they moved to Charlie's house where the other refugees should be now. Kirsten, the one whom Mark had brought earlier, calmed down after seeing familiar faces. She looked curiously at Mark, feeling gratitude for being brought with someone else as she had been alone and scared in her house earlier.

Beau, standing beside Eben, couldn't help but mutter to him as he observed Stella's unusual closeness with Mark. "Isn't she your wif..." He stopped abruptly as Eben shot him a sharp glare.

They continued moving in silence until they arrived at the barricaded house. Eben wrenched one of the plywood boards, and they all came inside.

Inside the barricaded house, Eben's eyes scanned the ceiling, searching for the hidden entrance to the attic. The opening was cunningly concealed, its location a well-kept secret within the confines of the house. With a careful search, he located a subtle seam in the ceiling panels. He tapped it, signaling to Beau, who readied his gun.

The concealed door opened slowly, causing a section of the ceiling to shift and reveal a narrow staircase leading to the attic. Carter, one of the refugees, carefully peeked, his face etched with nervousness. A smile broke across his features as he saw them, relief evident in his eyes. He motioned for them to come up, guiding them into the hidden refuge above, where safety and temporary shelter awaits them.

Up in the attic, Mark discreetly grabbed a first aid kit from his storage and passed it to Stella. He pulled off his shirt, leaving his lean torso exposed, revealing small sharpnels embedded in his skin. Stella's gaze focused on the piece of wood lodged in the back of his shoulder.

"This will hurt," she said, her voice steady, as she carefully pulled out the piece of wood, her hands deft and gentle.

As Stella pulled out the piece of wood, Mark felt a sudden itchiness beneath his skin. He instinctively tried to scratch the irritation, but Stella, focused on her task, slapped his hand away gently. 'Hold still,' she cautioned.

After successfully removing the piece of wood, Stella reached for a disinfectant solution from the first aid kit. She applied it to a sterile cloth and gently cleaned the wound on Mark's shoulder, her movements careful. Surprised by Mark's lack of reaction to the pain, glanced at him with amazement. "You're incredibly resilient," she commented, her voice filled with admiration as she finished bandaging the wound. "Most people would have shown some discomfort, but you seem unfazed."

Her hands then moved smoothly and purposefully to his chest, where the sharpnels were embedded. Stella skillfully removed the sharpnels from Mark's chest. With each extraction, she swiftly dressed the wounds, applying antiseptic ointment and bandages. Once Stella completed her task, she looked up at Mark, her eyes briefly meeting his before she nodded in satisfaction. Mark, his chest now free of the sharpnels, offered her a grateful smile.

"Can you check my side too?" Mark said, showing Stella his badly bruised area,colored in deep purples and blues. The skin was swollen and tender. Stella examined the bruised side carefully, her brows furrowing with concern. "This bruising looks quite severe," she remarked, her voice filled with worry. "I can't be sure if your ribs are cracked, but it's best to immobilize the area for now." She gently bandaged Mark's bruised side, providing support to the injured area.