PRIME APEX

I woke up to the sound of voices.

Familiar voices.

At first, the words were muffled, slipping through the haze of my mind like whispers through fog. My body felt… different. Lighter. Charged.

It was as if something deep within me had been unshackled, and the very air around me hummed in response.

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

The ceiling above me was adorned with intricate carvings, dark mahogany laced with veins of gold.

Heavy, crimson drapes framed the tall windows, dimming the soft glow of candlelight.

Everything around me radiated old-world elegance—luxurious, refined, yet strangely intimate.

Not Xander's mansion.

This was somewhere else.

Vlad's place?

I turned my head to the left.

Xander and Vlad stood near the far end of the chamber. They weren't just talking—they were arguing.

Xander's posture was tense, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes burned with frustration.

"I told you to be careful," he hissed.

Vlad, as always, appeared composed—outwardly, at least. But there was something different about him now.

A stiffness in his stance, a slight furrow in his brow.

"The ritual was successful," he replied smoothly.

"You should be grateful, not accusatory."

"Grateful?" Xander's voice sharpened.

"She was unconscious for two days, Vlad. That is not normal."

Vlad exhaled through his nose, but before he could reply, his head suddenly snapped toward me.

His crimson eyes darkened, as if something unseen had alerted him to my consciousness.

Then he moved.

In an instant, he was by my side, gripping my wrist with an urgency I had never seen from him before.

His touch was cool but firm, his gaze scanning my face as if searching for something—assessing, analyzing.

For a moment, he seemed like he wanted to say something. But then, just as abruptly, he stopped. His lips parted, then pressed into a thin line.

Then Xander was there too, stepping closer, his presence grounding me in a way I hadn't realized I needed.

Vlad released me instantly, stepping back. The connection between us severed, but its imprint lingered like a phantom touch.

Xander's eyes found mine immediately, his expression taut with concern. His chest rose and fell with barely contained urgency.

"Leighton?"

I met his gaze and swallowed, my voice steady despite the storm still raging inside me.

"How long have I been unconscious?" I asked.

"Two days," he replied, his jaw tightening slightly. "How do you feel?"

Two days.

I should have felt exhausted, drained, and weak. But I didn't.

Instead, a surge of energy thrummed beneath my skin, an untamed current that crackled and pulsed with every heartbeat.

My senses were sharper, heightened. I could hear the distant flickering of candle flames, the faintest shift of fabric as Vlad crossed his arms.

Even the air smelled different—richer, deeper, as if I was breathing in something more than just oxygen.

I wasn't hungry. I wasn't thirsty.

I felt reborn.

"I've never felt as alive as I do right now," I admitted, flexing my fingers, testing the strange, intoxicating rush of power coursing through me.

Xander's expression flickered—relief, worry, something else beneath the surface.

Then Vlad spoke. His voice was quiet, but it carried an undeniable finality.

"The first mark is complete."

I swallowed hard, my hand instinctively brushing over the spot where his fangs had pierced my skin.

The wound was now healed, but something deeper remained—a bond, a shift in the very fabric of who I was.

Vlad's crimson eyes lingered on me, but something had changed. His gaze wasn't just assessing—it was searching.

For what, I wasn't sure.

For the first time since I'd met him, his presence felt different. Less cold. Less distant.

I pushed myself upright, expecting to feel some lingering weakness, but instead, my body responded effortlessly. The shift was undeniable.

Xander's hand twitched at his side, as if he wanted to reach for me but held himself back. His concern pressed against me like a physical force, but my focus was on Vlad.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked.

Vlad remained silent, but there was something in his expression I had never seen before.

Uncertainty.

Xander's sharp gaze snapped to Vlad.

"What is it?"

Vlad exhaled slowly, something unspoken weighing on him. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than usual, lacking its usual sharp edge.

"I didn't expect this," he admitted.

A ripple of unease passed through me. "What do you mean?"

Vlad's expression was unreadable, but his voice lacked its usual detachment.

"Our bond was meant to be temporary—a necessity for the ritual. But it isn't. It's… deeper than it should be."

Xander tensed beside me.

Vlad's gaze softened just slightly.

"You are not the same as before."

Neither are you, I wanted to say.

But I didn't.

Because, for the first time, I realized something strange—Vlad, the cold, detached vampire I had met, was looking at me not as a pawn or a curiosity.

He was looking at me like I mattered.

The tension between the three of us remained thick, but I forced myself to focus.

"What's next?"

Xander hesitated.

"Leighton, you just woke up. You need time to—"

"I'm fine," I interrupted, firmer than I expected.

"We don't have time to waste."

Vlad studied me, then gave a slight nod. "Next—an Alpha werewolf."

"Werewolves reside deep in the wilderness, beyond the mountains, in a region untouched by modern civilization. There are no roads leading to their domain—only dense forests and treacherous terrain."

The air in the chamber grew heavier.

Xander's expression darkened.

"Are you serious? You plan to lead her into werewolf territory as soon as she regains consciousness?"

Vlad didn't blink.

"She needs the mark."

Xander let out a slow breath, barely containing his frustration.

"They'll see us as a threat the moment we set foot on their land."

"Then we make them see otherwise," Vlad said.

"They won't attack if we present no threat."

His gaze flickered toward me.

"Leighton isn't just here to take. She's here to offer something in return."

I frowned.

"And what exactly am I offering?"

Vlad's crimson eyes met mine.

"Balance."

The word sent a chill down my spine.

Balance.

Between vampires and werewolves. Between immortals and the rest of the world.

Between what I was and what I was becoming.

Xander shot Vlad a glare.

"Don't force her. She needs to rest."

Vlad's expression remained calm, but his voice had shifted—gentler now.

"I won't force her."

"Xander, I'm fine. Let's just move on to the next destination," I reassured him.

Xander exhaled sharply.

"If you say so."

Vlad looked at me then, and for the first time, I saw it.

Genuine respect.

And maybe something even deeper than that.

"We leave at dawn," Vlad said.