Page 85 of Dearest Alpha Brothers 1: Vampire Prince

“And then what? The feeling everyone’s whispering about?”

“Gods, yes. My body just…” The vampire’s voice held a mixture of awe and confusion. “I’ve never felt anything like it. This overwhelming urge to drop to my knees, to serve, to protect. Alan actually stumbled! And you know how graceful he usually is—hasn’t tripped once in three centuries of blood deliveries.”

“Alan? Our Alan who dances across rooftops with full blood trays at the galas?”

“The very same. Nearly dropped our one precious vial of ancient blood. Lord Blackthorn would have had our heads if we’d wasted even a drop.” The vampire shuddered. “But can you blame him? When we’ve been searching the texts for centuries, documenting every sign, every prophecy…”

“It’s exactly like the ancient texts describe! Remember those passages about presence and power? The way they spoke of light calling to darkness, of ancient beings feeling compelled to serve?”

“To think we might actually be witnessing it…”

The whispers faded as Percy’s mind snapped back to that moment at the Crystal Palace. That split second when Luca had turned those lavender eyes on him, and Percy’s own treacherous body had frozen, fighting that same maddening compulsion to kneel. He’d seen it affect others too—Sebastian fucking Blackthorn himself bowing lower than protocol required, Kai Park’s proud shoulders dipping in deference. Ancient beings who’d made lesser vampires crawl, all of them responding to something… primal. Something that called to the darkness in their very blood.

Percy’s fangs extended at the memory, sharp with hatred. If what these research rats were saying was true… if Luca really was what Dark Haven had been hunting for centuries…

TheCrimson Grimoiresuddenly seemed like a paltry offering. But a fated one? The first to appear in recorded history?That would buy Percy more than just entry into Dark Haven’s elite circles. That would give him real power, the kind that could restore everything Sebastian had stripped from him. The kind that could bring the mighty Blackthorn Clan to its knees.

Percy’s original plan of simply stealing the grimoire seemed childish now. Why settle for an ancient book when he could deliver them something far more precious? Something they’d been hunting for centuries?

A cold smile curved Percy’s lips as he turned away from the library. Let Sebastian keep his precious tome. Percy had a much more valuable prize in mind—one currently lying helpless in a hospital bed.

Dark Haven would provide everything he needed. They’d been hunting fated ones long enough to have plans in place. All Percy had to do was reach out to the right people.

One call was all it took. Burt and Clive were still bitter enough about their fall from grace to jump at any chance for revenge. Like Percy, they’d lost everything that night at the Crystal Palace—their titles, their status, their very identities as vampire nobles. Now they spent their nights drowning their sorrows at cheap blood bars, reminiscing about their glory days and cursing Sebastian Blackthorn’s name.

“It’s a hospital,” Percy explained to their eager faces. “We don’t need elaborate plans or forged documents. We just need chaos.”

The afternoon visiting hours at New Vale General the next day were perfect—the halls crowded with patients and visitors, medical staff rushing between rounds. Even better, Percy had heard the Whitlock brothers were occupied at the council meeting, discussing Luca’s condition with the elders.

Percy checked his watch. Three forty-five p.m. Fifteen minutes until Burt would pull the fire alarm. He watched the steady stream of people passing through the main entrance—worried families clutching flowers, outpatients heading to appointments, staff changing shifts. No one paid attention to three well-dressed vampires who looked like any other visitors.

“Remember,” Percy muttered as they split up, “wait for my signal.”

The two idiots nodded eagerly, their former aristocratic bearing slipping as they practically bounced with anticipation. Percy suppressed a sneer. They’d serve their purpose soon enough.

When the fire alarm screamed through the building at precisely four p.m., the effect was instantaneous. Emergency protocols blared through the speakers: “Attention all personnel and visitors. This is not a drill. Please proceed to your nearest exit immediately. All security teams to evacuation positions. This is not a drill.”

Chaos erupted as patients, visitors, and staff began evacuating. Even the Whitlock guards stationed near Luca’s room couldn’t ignore emergency protocols—their training kicked in automatically as they began assisting with the evacuation, helping move patients who couldn’t walk.

In the growing chaos, Percy slipped into Luca’s room. The prince lay unconscious, his skin barely glowing with fever-bright power. Even weakened, that maddening compulsion tugged at Percy, a faint echo of the force that had made him kneel at the Crystal Palace.

Percy’s hatred gave him strength against even this dim remnant of Luca’s power. Within minutes, Percy had the prince transferred to a wheelchair—just another patient being evacuated to safety. Luca’s power pulsed weakly, but in the chaos of evacuation, no one noticed.

Burt and Clive met Percy at the service elevator, their eyes wide with triumph and bloodlust.

“The transport’s ready,” Burt whispered, practically vibrating with excitement. “We actually did it!”

“Dark Haven will reward us beyond imagination,” Clive added, staring at Luca’s glowing form with undisguised greed.

Percy let them chatter as they wheeled Luca through the chaos of evacuation. Their stolen transport waited in the parking structure, its engine running. By the time anyone realized Luca was missing, they’d be long gone. Sometimes the simplest plans worked best.

As they pulled away from the hospital, Luca stirred slightly, a soft whimper escaping his lips. His power flared weakly, reaching for something—or someone. But his precious Whitlock brothers weren’t here to save him.

The transport plunged into the entrance of New Vale’s Underground Transit System—or UTS, as every supernatural called these ancient highways. Unlike the crowded surface streets above, these magically enhanced roads were reserved for supernatural vehicles, protected by wards and security checkpoints. Magic scanners flickered over their stolen transport, and Percy held his breath. But their forged credentials held.

“Engaging supernatural drive,” the vehicle’s AI announced. The engine’s pitch changed as enchanted crystals activated, power thrumming through the chassis.

In the back, pulses of light escaped from beneath the blanket covering Luca’s unconscious form.

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