Rhazien felt a heavy burden on his mind as he tried to dismiss the words that the director had spoken to him earlier. They lingered in the back of his mind like a haunting melody that refused to leave, the same way the whisky had left a tainted yet bitter taste on his tongue. His words felt like a poison that had seeped into his system, making him feel uneasy and restless. They continued to gnaw at him despite his attempts to push them aside. The question tested his morals. It was as if someone stood in his shadow, clawing at the back of his neck, gnawing and tearing the sensitive flesh. What if he meets the same end as Van Helsing? What if he had to abandon his morals of right and wrong?

Can you protect the kid from yourself?

"Typical. . ." Rhazien murmurs. With an unwavering resolve, Rhazien vows to himself to complete the task no matter what obstacles lay in his path. It didn't matter if he put himself in harm's way if that's what it takes to see it through to the end.

Rhazien's leather boots echoed through the silent hallway. The checkered floor beneath him amplified each step, emphasizing each passing second. He couldn't help but think about the contingent he had just received and how it would allow him to prosper in ways he never thought possible. As he walked, he began to slow his pace, stopping in the midst of a doorway next to him.

As soon as he stepped into the empty waiting room, his eyes fell on the boy he had rescued earlier. The child sat there, alone and distraught, his eyes red and swollen from crying. He attempted to keep his sobs hushed, but they escaped from his quivering lips and echoed quietly through the room, ripping apart Rhazien's heart into shreds. Rhazien's chest burned with guilt; he could feel the weight of the boy's pain and the depth of his sadness as it was etched into his face. He was drowning, and Rhazien knew it. It was a matter of time before his suffering turned into numbness, leading him further down the void of empty emotions.

Rhazien sucked in a breath, making a steady pace toward the child before crouching down in front of him. His emerald green eyes were heavy with emotion, and he could not bring himself to meet Rhazien's gaze. Instead, he looked down at the wooden floor, taking in the intricate patterns of the grain as if seeking solace in the natural world. The silence between them was palpable, broken only by the soft sound of their breathing and the occasional creak of the floorboards. Despite his reluctance to make eye contact, there was a deep sadness in his eyes that spoke volumes about the pain he was feeling.

"Hang in there," Rhazien whispers, leaning slightly closer. His gaze remained soft as he studied the conflicted emotions contorting the child's features. The child hadn't said a word to Rhazien since his mother's death. He knew the boy's love for his mother was stronger than the war of emotions waging inside his head, something absent from Rhazien's life.

Slowly, the boy raises his head. His broken gaze remained lifeless as the wax of his tears stained his pale cheeks raw.

"Listen, I know the road ahead might be tough, but I want you to know you're not alone. I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe. You have my word on that," a faint smile ghosts Rhazien's lips as his thumb wipes away the remaining tears beneath the child's lower eyelids.

"My father once told me that in the darkest of times, it's not the current that pulls you under that causes you to drown: it's a matter of whether you choose to sink or swim," his gaze casts to the side of his jacket before fishing out an item in his pocket that he held onto tightly when he met the Smith brothers.

Something that weakens the creatures of the night.

"Now, I want you to hold onto something for me. It will protect you -- should I become absent or fall." His fingers hooked around the thin, delicate object in his pocket before he brought it into the light.

"They are not particularly fond of silver. Some say the silver laced between the beads affects the monsters that roam the dark. It's the purity that affects only the impure — creatures not of this world. It burns them," he explains, twisting the rosary-beaded necklace between his grasp.

The necklace was adorned with fifty-three sleek black beads, with six larger obsidian beads alternating between each group of eight smaller beads. Silver chains were intertwined between each section, flowing down as a small silver cross dangled at the end of the rosary necklace. The silver alloy was woven in between each piece, imparting a subtle durability to the necklace.

"Do you have a name?" Rhazien asks, hoping the boy isn't too overwhelmed.

"C-Callum. . ." he answers barely above a whisper as his words quivered from his lips.

"Callum. A perfect name for a hunter," Rhazien grins, ruffling the boy's earthy locks, which causes him to chuckle.

A moment later, Rhazien raises his arm and uncurls his fingers, gently dropping the necklace into Callum's palms. The boy's emerald gaze studied the necklace, sliding the smooth beads between his fingers before silently thanking Rhazien.

"Hey, you're needed in the interrogation room," an abrupt voice broke the silence in the air, causing Rhazien to snap his gaze over his shoulder, "asshole just about tore out of the remaining cuffs and wiped the floor with the trauma team-."

Rhazien's storm-like gaze locked with a pair of brown eyes, noticing it was his partner in crime, James Phoenix. His height challenged three-quarters of the doorway as his dress shirt was dusted with light ivory. His collar was loosened at the neck, while his black tie hung lazily. Droplets of blood coated the front of his shirt, and his knuckles were stained with purple bruises.

"Oh, excuse my French. . ." he grins, leaning on the doorway's white trim, causing Rhazien's gaze to narrow by half an inch.

Taking this as an urgent matter, Rhazien stood up and followed James to the interrogation room. On his way down the marbled hallway, passing the sleepless offices, they rounded the corner before coming to an immediate halt. As James stood before Rhazien, he couldn't help but notice his forehead decorated with beads of sweat. Judging by his breathing, it told Rhazien that the remaining Smith brother wasn't playing nice.

"And what's with the missing hand? The first moment he was dragged in here, we couldn't use normal shackles to contain him—oh no, because he has one hand!!" James complains, his voice echoing slightly down the hallway.

Rhazien struggled to find the right words as he tried to explain the outcome of his hunt. If he hadn't apprehended the Smith brothers in time, who knows what fate awaited the kid and the woman? They may have suffered the same as others who vanished under the night's cover. New deaths every night ended up being more challenging on Rhazien's part, especially in the morning, having to leave to work under the stress of Herlock Sholms being on his arse.

"Long story, James. Let's get one thing under control," Rhazien states, leaning his head to the side and looking over James' shoulder. He notices the remaining Smith brother sitting in the middle of the room in front of a wooden table.

"Alright, just a warning, he bites," James warns as Rhazien enters the room.

As soon as Rhazien entered the room, a strong copper odour filled his nostrils, causing his stomach to churn. In the center of the room, slumped in a chair, was William Smith, looking dejected and miserable. When Rhazien's gaze met William's, he could feel the tension rising in the air as William's frustration grew more palpable by the second.

"You're the bastard who cut off my hand!" he hissed, fangs bared. In the moment, Rhazien's lips formed into a thin line as he kept his composure.

Rhazien could feel his partner's questionable gaze burning holes into the side of his head as they both took a seat in front of William, pulling a wooden chair out from beneath the wooden table.

"We came to ask you a couple of questions, Mr. Smith, regarding the incident earlier," Rhazien folded his arms together, leaning back in his chair.

"Right. Just as you and that chicken were responsible for my brother's death," he raised a brow, lacing a hint of loathing toward Rhazien.

"My condolences," Rhazien's stormy gaze flickered with a lifeless expression, his eyes fixed on him intently.

"What was the reason behind your pursuit of the young boy?" Rhazien mentally noted every movement William made. He carefully watched his eyes, looking for signs of irritation or dishonest remarks.

The vampire merely smirked in response, his eyes glinting with amusement. His actions created an everlasting heavy infliction of dread within the room, causing a slight uneasiness at the back of Rhazien's neck. The change of attitude told him there was more to William than meets the eye.

James leaned forward, noticing the change of attitude.

"We're not going to ask again, shortcake! Spit it out! We know your intentions are twisted, and we're not going to stop until you give us answers," James began to chew on his bottom lip, irritated at the vampire before him. A glint of amusement flashed before William's gaze, causing a slight uneasiness to bubble within James' gut.

James let out a heavy sigh, signalling his frustration. The sound of his chair scraping against the wooden floor echoed through the room as he pushed himself away from the table.

"I'm gone to get coffee that will wake up the dead. I don't know about you, but that psycho gives me the creeps. Can you keep him company?" He asks, pointing at William. Before Rhazien could speak up, he felt a light tap on his back, making his head turn over his shoulder.

"Way to take one for the team," James says before shutting the door, leaving the two alone.

As soon as the door closed with a resounding thud, Rhazien felt an unmistakable sensation. The fine hairs on the nape of his neck stood up, prickling with a sense of unease and apprehension. It was as if the air around them had suddenly grown heavy and charged with eerie electricity, causing his skin to tingle with otherworldly energy.

"Oh, you're so done for," a small chuckle escaped his throat, causing Rhazien's attention to flicker back to William.

"What are you implying?" he asks, knitting his brows.

"I'm still here, aren't I? What do you think will happen if I don't return to him?" he asked, lacing a hint of mystery in his voice.

It drew Rhazien in. He wanted to know the motive behind William and his brother's actions. However, he had to keep the conversation going. It was the sole method to expose his intentions. There was always someone above the chain of command and one who would lead the whole web of operations.

"It will only get worse, Mr. Crawford -- once he finds out I did not deliver. The consequences and outcomes of your actions will only lead to your suffering."

At this juncture, Rhazien had no intentions of questioning how he acquired his surname. He understood that he had to persevere in order to obtain the information he required, even though everything still seemed vague to him.

Rhazien hesitated before continuing to heed his words. He had conflicting emotions about their discussion. The uncertain route he had opted for before this moment had ignited an inner turmoil within his beliefs. Rhazien acknowledged William was urging him to refrain from interfering in their affairs, but to what cost?

"You talk about a man, yet you fail to mention a name. Who is he?" Asking this question made the man before him -- pleased to talk. He could see it in William's golden gaze, acting as a reflective mirror and conveying Rhazien's form at the table.

"He goes by many names. He is believed to be our father, our lord, and we are his children, given gifts of strength to eliminate the filth from this world. We are merely the young undead." Rhazien carefully listened to his words, taking note of the individual he was describing.

"And how long has he been around?"

"Who knows? Centuries, maybe more, maybe less. Way before you came kicking and screaming into this world." Rhazien nods before asking his next question.

"You mentioned he is a Lord. Someone of power," he raised a brow in response as his gaze flickered to William's bindings. To his surprise, the rest of the hunters manage to chain and ground William to the wooden chair. Copper stained the hardwood floors, acting as a new coat of paint.

"Yes. Only those residing within London's hidden realm are aware of his existence," the vampire explained, intending to share about London's underbelly.

"What about the boy? How is he linked to this?" Rhazien gestured with his hand, trying to get William to spit out the answer.

"You ask too many questions. Someone might silence you for your curiosity," a low chuckle admitted from his throat.

Ignoring his comment, Rhazien could only press on.

"What of the boy? I will not ask again." Rhazien replied, but this time. . . his voice was cold and steely, reflecting his patience.

"I'll let you figure that out. In the line for the throne, I'm destined to be. Succession awaits, my fate you: see. My role is to inherit. My power is to acquire. What am I?" With that, he leaned back in his chair, his lips sealed tightly shut.

Rhazien paused his thoughts and carefully pondered his response. Instantly, he recognized the answer, but the harsh truth struck him like a powerful explosion. He was fully aware, just like the vampire sitting before him, of the boy's true identity.

"The heir."