PRIME APEX

The wilderness stretched endlessly before us—an unbroken expanse of towering trees and rugged terrain shrouded in mist.

The air here was different—thicker, heavier, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth rather than the crisp, biting cold of the north.

Silence hung heavy, but it wasn't the comforting kind. It was the kind that suffocated, thick with unseen dangers lurking just beyond the veil of darkness.

I pulled my coat tighter around me, my boots pressing into the damp, uneven ground.

The first mark still pulsed beneath my skin—a quiet thrum of power that hadn't faded since the ritual. It unsettled me. Not just the sensation itself, but the way it had changed me. I felt… different. More aware. More alive.

Vlad walked ahead, unbothered by the weather, his presence a shadow among the towering trees.

Xander, ever watchful, stayed close. He hadn't spoken much since the ritual. His silence was a weight between us, but I knew better than to break it.

He was waiting, calculating—making sure that whatever lay ahead wouldn't take us by surprise.

The deeper we ventured, the heavier the air became.

Then, it happened.

A low, guttural growl sliced through the quiet.

I barely had time to react before figures burst from the darkness—hulking forms, twisted between human and beast. Lycans.

These weren't the werewolves of myths or movies. These were creatures lost to instinct, their golden eyes burning with nothing but rage.

Muscles rippled as they prowled forward, snarling, saliva dripping from their fangs.

They didn't hesitate.

Vlad moved first—a blur of dark fury. He met the first lycan head-on, his fist colliding with its chest and sending it crashing into a tree. The impact shook the ground, but another took its place instantly.

Since the ritual, he had always been the first to sense when I was in danger. Was it because of the blood we had shared?

Xander was just as brutal. He sidestepped an attack with inhuman precision, his hand snapping out to grip a lycan's throat. With a flick of his wrist, he twisted—bone crunched. The body slumped, lifeless.

I barely had time to react before another lunged at me. I ducked, narrowly avoiding the swipe of claws aimed at my throat. My heartbeat thundered, instincts screaming.

Before the creature could strike again, both Vlad and Xander were there, cutting through fur and flesh.

More came.

The battle was savage, but it didn't last long.

Xander and Vlad were too strong, too fast. Within minutes, the last lycan collapsed.

I exhaled sharply, pulse racing.

"That was a warning," Xander muttered.

Vlad nodded, his crimson eyes flickering toward the trees.

"Which means we're close."

The deeper we ventured, the more the world shifted around us. The trees grew taller, denser—like silent sentinels watching our every move.

Then, past a long river and a ridge of jagged cliffs, we saw it.

A hidden valley, nestled between steep rock formations and dense forest. Small cabins dotted the landscape, smoke curling from chimneys.

Figures emerged from the shadows, stepping into the pale moonlight. They were tall, broad-shouldered, their golden eyes gleaming with suspicion.

They weren't lycans. These were controlled. Disciplined. But that didn't make them any less dangerous.

One of them, a man with streaks of silver in his dark hair, took a step forward.

"State your purpose, vampires."

Vlad met his gaze, unmoved. "We seek an audience with your Alpha."

A ripple of murmurs passed through the pack, their gazes shifting in silent deliberation. The wind howled through the trees, and somewhere in the distance, a wolf answered.

A few moments passed.

Then, the same man stepped forward again, his stance unmistakably authoritative.

"Only the lady is permitted to see our Alpha," he said, pointing at me.

My breath caught. "What?"

Xander tensed beside me.

"That's not happening."

The temperature in the clearing seemed to drop. A few of the werewolves bared their teeth, fingers twitching as if itching to shift. The air became charged—one wrong move away from an all-out fight.

But before the tension could snap, Vlad calmly placed a hand on Xander's shoulder. "This is their territory. Their rules."

Xander's jaw clenched. He clearly didn't like it, but he didn't argue. His eyes flicked to me, dark with unspoken concern.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing with possibilities—each one worse than the last. I barely knew what I was walking into.

But I did know one thing—I didn't have a choice.

With a steady breath, I stepped forward. "Fine."

The werewolves didn't wait. They turned without another word, their movements swift and silent, like ghosts vanishing into the trees.

I hesitated only briefly before following.

I could feel Xander's gaze burning into my back, but I didn't look.

I had to do this alone.

The deeper they led me into the settlement, the more the world seemed to shift. The trees here were massive, their ancient trunks twisted and gnarled, roots weaving through the earth like veins.

Small cabins were tucked between them, firelight spilling through windows. It should have looked peaceful. Instead, it felt like a sleeping beast—watching. Waiting.

The werewolves guiding me remained silent as we approached the largest structure in the village—a hall built of thick wooden logs, its doors carved with symbols I didn't recognize.

One of them stepped forward, reaching for the heavy doors.

They swung open.

Heat greeted me first—the warmth of a massive fireplace crackling in the center of the room. The scent of burning wood mingled with something else. Something primal. Earthy. Wild.

Shadows flickered against the log walls, dancing across mounted wolf pelts and battle-worn weapons.

And then I saw him.

The Alpha.

A familiar face.