A Hunter' Daughter

Lily's breath hitched at the mention of their mother. Her hands tightened around her drink as a wave of cold fear washed over her, sinking into her chest. She tried to push the feeling away, but the name—Mother—it carried too many memories, all of them jagged and unkind. She glanced at Florian, seeing the way his jaw clenched, the muscle ticking beneath his skin. The bottle in his hand suddenly seemed heavier, like it carried the weight of their past along with whatever mysterious liquid swirled inside.

"Do you know what's in it?" Lily asked, her voice quieter now, as if the mere question might provoke something darker.

Florian shook his head, the tension in his posture easing only slightly as he slipped the small bottle into his pocket. "I don't remember," he muttered, frustration evident in the way his eyes narrowed, searching the fading light of the market. "But it's getting late. We need to hurry."

Lily nodded, feeling the urgency in his words. There was no use lingering on questions he didn't have answers to. Florian nudged her gently, guiding her back toward the vendor stalls. They gathered a few more items, the market's energy beginning to wane as the day dimmed into evening. All the while, Lily's thoughts kept straying to the woman, the bottle, and the sudden chill that seemed to settle in her bones.

---

Meanwhile, in the grand and opulent study of Niklaus Volkov, the vampire prince sat behind his polished mahogany desk, his long, pale fingers massaging his temple in an effort to stave off the headache building behind his beautiful, obsidian eyes. Before him lay a stack of reports, each one detailing another case of Mortalis vampires being attacked and killed by vampire hunters. His irritation simmered just beneath the surface, a cold fury gnawing at his usually icy composure.

What is it with these fucking hunters? Niklaus wondered, flipping through the papers with a sharp flick of his wrist. The decree King Roderick had passed allowing vampires to coexist peacefully with humans seemed to mean little to these zealots. Their attacks were relentless, focused on the Mortalis—the weakest of all vampire breeds, and the least deserving of such violence. He scoffed, dark amusement curling his lips. The hunters were fools, targeting the weakest, while never daring to go after the Tenebris or, God forbid, the Volkovs.

The Volkov vampires, Niklaus mused, were the apex predators. They fed on whatever they pleased—vampires, humans, werewolves, anything with blood in its veins—and they possessed abilities that set them leagues above the rest. They were immune to Thanium, a rare and deadly substance that could bring even the most fearsome vampire to their knees. The Tenebris vampires, while powerful, were still vulnerable to it, their true, monstrous forms revealed when exposed to its bite. The Mortalis, on the other hand, were no threat at all—practically human in appearance, with no special abilities save for their fangs. They fed on animal blood, for God's sake.

Niklaus's lip curled in disdain. Killing Mortalis... pathetic.

A knock interrupted his thoughts, and his obsidian eyes flicked toward the door. He allowed a moment to pass, his silence an unspoken command for the knocker to enter. The door opened with a creak, revealing Alaric Thornwell, his ever-observant butler. The man was quiet, with a keen gaze and an uncanny ability to read Niklaus's mood before a word was spoken.

"Your favorite, sire," Alaric said smoothly, stepping forward with a glass of deep crimson liquid. He set it on the desk with practiced grace, his movements calm and deliberate. "It will take the edge off, I'm sure."

Niklaus exhaled slowly, accepting the glass but not immediately drinking. "Alaric," he began, his voice low and commanding, "these hunters… they're becoming a nuisance. King Roderick's decree should've put an end to this nonsense. And yet, they persist. Mortalis vampires are of no threat—why not leave them be?"

Alaric's gaze was steady, his voice measured. "Mortals fear what they do not understand, my lord. And the Mortalis, for all their weaknesses, are still vampires in their eyes. Prey."

Niklaus's grip on the glass tightened. "Prey," he repeated with a sneer. "Pathetic. I'll be visiting the castle again. Perhaps it's time Roderick did more than issue decrees. Laws should be passed. A firm hand must be taken if these hunters are to be stopped."

"I shall make the necessary preparations, sire," Alaric replied, his tone neutral yet efficient. He paused, studying Niklaus's demeanor with a practiced eye. "Marius has also arrived, my lord. Shall I send him in?"

Niklaus's lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. "Yes, send him in. He's been taking his sweet time with that task I gave him. I hope he has something useful to say."

Alaric bowed his head and left as silently as he had entered. Moments later, the door burst open with far less grace, Marius Greydane storming in, his usual fiery temperament blazing in his eyes. Niklaus raised a brow, leaning back in his chair, his handsome face reflecting amusement.

"Easy with the door, Marius," Niklaus drawled, his voice smooth and biting at once. "I'd rather not have to replace it because you're in one of your moods. Do you know how much this place costs to maintain?"

Marius's expression twisted in annoyance, his spiky hair seeming to bristle with irritation. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, slamming the door behind him. "You can bill me later. You really sent me out to track down some commoner girl? Do you know how humiliating that is?"

Niklaus's smile widened, a predator toying with its prey. "Humiliating, Marius? I thought you enjoyed a challenge. Or has this particular girl given you too much trouble?" His tone was laced with mockery, each word calculated to provoke.

Marius glared, but Niklaus could see the frustration burning in his gaze. "It's not about the girl," Marius growled, crossing his arms. "It's about the fact that she's a nobody. What could she possibly have to do with anything important?"

"That," Niklaus said, his tone turning cold as ice, "is what I expect you to find out. Now, sit down and tell me what you've learned. Or are you still empty-handed?"

Marius's scowl deepened, but he obeyed, grudgingly sitting across from Niklaus. "Fine," he spat, "but don't expect me to enjoy this."

Niklaus leaned back in his chair, swirling the glass in his hand as Marius slapped a folded piece of parchment onto the desk. The vampire prince didn't move to touch it, his sharp gaze flickering from the paper to Marius's agitated expression.

"You've taken to writing things down?" Niklaus drawled, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "How quaint. Were you afraid you'd forget the details, Marius? Or do you simply enjoy playing the role of a scribe?"

Marius bristled, his lips curling in a snarl as he leaned forward, hands slamming down on the edge of the desk. "It's called being thorough, you arrogant ass. I'd rather write it down than have to repeat myself when you inevitably lose interest."

Niklaus raised a brow, unmoved by the display of temper. "Well then, entertain me." He motioned lazily with his free hand. "Go on. What have you so meticulously penned down for me?"

Marius snatched the paper back, unfolding it with a jerk before scanning it quickly. "Her name is Lilian Evergreen. She's eighteen years old, daughter of Mr. Williams Evergreen and the late Mrs. Eliza Evergreen."

"Eliza." Niklaus's gaze flickered with interest for the briefest of moments. "A dead mother, just like mine." His voice dipped, dark and unreadable, before it smoothed over once more. "And what of her father?"

"Williams Evergreen is a vampire hunter," Marius replied with a grimace. "Her stepmother, Beatrice, owns a flower shop. Lilian lives with them in the upper part of the town. The girl's stepmother seems to run the business, while her father is out… doing what hunters do."

Niklaus's lips curled into a sharp, predatory grin. "A vampire hunter's daughter, hmm? How delightfully forbidden." He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his obsidian eyes glinting with amusement. "I do love a challenge. Tell me, Marius, do you think the girl is a hunter as well? Or merely a pawn in her father's game?"

Marius scoffed. "Doubt it. Hunters don't usually allow women into their ranks. But there've been whispers… they're considering letting a few in to defend themselves. Personally, I think they just want to boost their numbers."

Niklaus chuckled darkly. "Ah, the more the merrier, then." His fingers traced the rim of his glass as his mind wandered back to the sight of Lilian standing in the rain, just outside the flower shop. "So, that explains why she was near the flower shop. It belongs to her stepmother, no doubt forcing her to work there."

He recalled the way she had walked into the rain, her face set in a defiant scowl. There had been something about her—something wild, untamed. A sharp contrast to the delicate flowers she must've been tasked with tending. Niklaus smiled to himself. A girl with a fire in her eyes and hands that can coax life from the earth. He had to see how good she was with flowers.