Chapter 8: Maximus: 1. Chasing Her

–Maximus–

“What?” I snarled, my glare cutting into Sy. “Where did they go?”

“I couldn’t catch up,” he admitted, frustration twisting his features as he pulled at his hair. “But I think they’re in the territory of the Blood Moon Pack. I’m sorry… I can’t go there.”

My fist clenched, the sound of bone grinding echoing in the silence. Vince Mortalis. I should have known. His mother is a werewolf—he’s a hybrid. No wonder he could waltz into that cursed pack. But now we have her location. And I will retrieve her myself.

“Demetri!” My voice thundered, and my firstborn appeared instantly, still in his pajamas, eyes heavy with sleep.

“Get dressed. We will pay the Mortalis a visit. Sy, send men to the borders. The Queen must be protected at all costs.”

“Right away.” Sy vanished in a snap, while Demetrius groaned, still groggy.

“Now!” My command cracked like a whip, and he obeyed.

“What’s going on?” Ophelia’s voice rang out, her form shifting into her teenage self. Her gift—born of tragedy—allows her to change her age at will. She lost her mother days after she was born, cursed by fate, and her power came as a cruel blessing.

My wife had sacrificed her life to shield her children. This time, I will not let her suffer again.

“We’re going to retrieve your Mamá. For now, I must visit the Mortalis mansion.”

“Can I go?”

I stared at her, long and hard, before shaking my head. Ophelia may have lived for millennia, but she is still our baby. Stubborn, hardheaded—just like her mother. We love her too much to risk her.

“I’ll bring your Mama back. Don’t go anywhere, alright?” I caressed her rustic red hair, kissed her forehead. “Stay here. Organize her bedroom. I bought her new books, and she’ll love them. Some of her things have already been delivered—take care of them.”

She nodded, lips pressed into a smile.

I descended to the foyer. Demetrius waited, yawning.

“Should I wipe them out?” he asked lazily.

“No need.”

We drove to the mansion. Their faces betrayed them—anxious, unsettled.

“They’ll be back,” Ryan muttered. “Mr. Veyron, we’re already tracking her.”

“That won’t be necessary.” My tone was cold, final. “Everything she owns—put it in the truck.”

I turned my glare on Ryan. “I am disappointed, Mr. Mortalis. None of your staff even realized she was gone. I should have taken her long ago. She is not happy in this household.”

“She ran off because she didn’t want to marry you,” the eldest daughter spat.

In a blink, I was before her, my hand gripping her chin. Her shock was palpable. They already knew I wasn’t human. They knew immortals walked among them.

“And what do you suggest, lady?” My voice was low, dangerous. “You’ve been stealing her gifts. This is why she resists me.”

I scoffed, pulled out a handkerchief, wiped my hand, and let it fall to the floor.

“You do understand why you’re all still alive, don’t you? It’s because of her.” My gaze locked on Ryan. “Now—where is the nephew who took her?”

“He’s at the club,” Ryan whispered. “He manages the club.”

I already knew. He had brought her there on her eighteenth birthday, blind to the danger surrounding her. I was there, masked, guarding her. That night, she had her first kiss—with me.

“Let’s go,” Demetrius mumbled, yawning again. Strange boy—vampires rarely sleep, yet he loves it. Perhaps boredom after millennia.

We drove to the town. Werewolves greeted us, standing guard at their entrance.

“Your Majesty,” a mocking voice called. Alpha Grayson stepped forward, topless, scarred, proud.

“I’m here for my mate. Her cousin brought her here.”

I chose the word carefully. Mate. Their sacred term, their bond for eternity. It would strike him like a blade–forcing him to think twice. To deny me would mean defying fate itself. To bar me would mean risking the blood of his entire pack.

He chuckled, dismissive. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Denial. Insolence. My hands itched to strangle him where he stood.

My gaze hardened, colder than steel. “Alpha Grayson, she may be in your territory, but she is mine.”

The word mine cut through the air like a blade. He froze, sensing my men at his borders, the weight of my claim pressing down on him.

“We don’t want harm to your pack,” I continued, voice low, deliberate. “Grant me passage, and I will retrieve my bride.”

His tone sharpened, more Alpha than diplomat. “Why is she running from you?”

I did not flinch. “Ask Vince Mortalis why he brought her here.”

He hesitated.

“You don’t want a bloodbath in your town, Alpha. Let me through, and I’ll be quick.”

He stepped back, gave his command. A patrol led us to the lakehouse.

I inhaled the earthy scent, the metallic tang of blood. My ears caught her running, her scream.

“Alexandria!” I shouted, signaling my men to surround the area. I moved with inhuman speed. She was bleeding—but no wound. The scent was strong, dangerous, enough to drive males mad.

My eyes dilated. I knew why.

“Get away from her,” I ordered through my earpiece. My guards obeyed.

“Alexandria! Stop running. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“No!” she cried. “Just go away!”

She turned, screamed, tripped.

“Fuck! Alexandria!” I rushed forward, but her blood was maddening, arousing.

She scrambled up, ran faster. Her heartbeat thundered in my ears.

“Mi Amore… you should have done cardio for years…” I teased, laughing softly. Her running was clumsy, almost endearing – more like my casual stride than any true escape.

“Shut up!” she snapped, even finding the breath to bite back.

I only laughed, the sound low and amused, teasing her further as I followed at my normal stride. Her frantic running was nothing more than a mortal’s desperate flutter–while for me, it was barely more than walking.

My sweet Alexandria. Always fragile, always stubborn.

She has always been the kind to lie around, curled in blankets, reading her dark romances, walking only when she must. Exercise was never part of her routine. She skips meals, too – that is why she remains slender, even after days of idleness during lockdown.

She’s fragile, untrained, yet perfect.

Branches snapped, alarming me. Her scream tore the night. She fell. I leapt, caught her, wrapped her in my arms as we slid down.

Pain seared my chest—a sharp stake pierced me. I pushed her upward, shielding her from the blade.

The wood burned against my flesh.

She shrieked in panic, realizing what had happened.