Chapter 123: The Smile of a Monster

The woman had heard stories about the three Original Lycans. Everyone who worked for Aegis had. They were the creatures from which the modern werewolf bloodlines had descended, beings so old that the earliest supernatural records described them more like forces of nature than living men.

Most of those records had been classified, and the few who had seen an Original Lycan in person rarely lived long enough to offer a detailed account.

She had always assumed the stories were exaggerated. Now, staring at the man before her, she understood that the truth might have been considerably worse.

The stranger stopped a few feet from the archway.

“I find it fascinating how people convince themselves that a little preparation makes them untouchable,” he said. “You bring your silver arrows, your specialised ammunition, your clever little weapons, and suddenly you believe that an Original Lycan is no more dangerous than an ordinary man with an impressive medical history.”

Receiving no response from the petrified operatives hiding in the recess, the man let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated pleasantly in his chest.

“I always find it endlessly fascinating how mortals genuinely believe they can conceal themselves from an Original Lycan,” he mused, his voice dropping into a conversational purr.

“Especially when I can pinpoint the exact coordinate of your hiding spot simply by listening to the frantic, erratic rhythm of your hearts hammering against your ribs. So, do yourselves an immense favor and step out where I can see you. If you make this easy, I might just be in a sufficiently magnanimous mood to grant you a swift death, rather than carving out your secrets over the next several hours.”

He offered a devastatingly handsome, utterly maddening smile—one that was unfortunately framed by the fresh blood of their fallen comrades.

Inside the alcove, the man squeezed his eyes shut, a silent wave of defeat washing over him. How could they have been so monumentally stupid? In the heat of terror, they had completely forgotten that an Original possessed hyper-attuned predator senses capable of tracking a heartbeat through solid stone.

Elena looked down at her partner, watching his internal collapse. Her jaw set. Hiding here offered zero survival probability. Meeting the monster head-on was their only remaining variable.

With a sharp intake of breath, she shoved her heavy crossbow away, letting it clatter uselessly against the frozen ground, and drew her sidearm from her tactical holster.

“What are you doing?” her partner whispered frantically, grabbing at her sleeve.

“It’s obvious he knows precisely where we are,” she hissed back, her voice shaking but resolute as she forced herself to stand upright. “Hiding in this corner isn’t going to make us invisible, and pointing a weapon at him won’t change what we’ve already seen him do.” She swallowed, then forced herself to meet Dave’s eyes. “If we’re going to die, I’d rather face him standing up. I’d rather walk out of here on my own than have him drag me out like an animal.”

“You’re assuming he’ll let you live.”

“No,” she replied, her fingers tightening around the handgun. “I’m assuming that if he wanted us dead this very second, we’d already be dead.”

Leaving the alcove behind, she stepped out from behind the archway, and into the open courtyard, coming face-to-face with one of the most terrifying entities in existence.

The cold air struck her face, and the open courtyard seemed impossibly vast after the cramped space where she had been hiding. For several seconds, she could hear nothing except the crunch of snow beneath her boots and the blood pounding in her ears.

Then she saw him clearly.

Lucien Blackthorne stood in the centre of the courtyard, his left hand still tucked into his pocket, his right hand resting loosely beside his thigh. He looked at her with the mild interest of a man meeting someone at a social function, his smile untouched by the blood staining his shirt.

She had seen photographs of Alexander Blackthorne. Every Aegis operative with access to the restricted archives had. His face appeared in old records, historical photographs, and reports that stretched back far beyond any ordinary human lifespan.

But Lucien was different. Alexander’s presence was a command. Lucien’s was an invitation.

One made you understand that disobedience would have consequences. The other made you wonder whether disobeying him had been your own idea.

Lucien Blackthorne stopped in his tracks, tilting his head with an expression of mild, pleased surprise. He was still wearing that maddening, brilliant smile.

“Well, now,” Lucien murmured, his voice smooth as silk. “At least one of you possesses an admirable spine. I suppose I can’t say the exact same for your companion back in the shadows. Though I suppose he deserves a little time to gather himself. Not everyone is blessed with the ability to make terrible decisions while remaining perfectly composed.”

From behind the archway came the sound of a sharp exhale.

Lucien’s smile widened. “Oh, there you are. I was beginning to wonder whether you intended to remain hidden until sunrise.”

A few agonizing seconds ticked by before the male operative finally emerged from the alcove, stepping out beside Elena. With trembling hands, he raised his assault rifle, leveling the barrel directly at Lucien’s chest—a gesture so futile and naive that it provoked another rich, musical chuckle from the ancient Lycan.

“Oh, this is wonderful.” Lucien mused excitedly.

Dave’s arms stiffened in fear. Seeing that, Lucien tilted his head, examining the gun as though he were trying to determine whether it was an antique.

“Do you genuinely believe that will help you, or are you simply holding it because you don’t know what else to do with your hands?”

“Stay where you are,” Dave ordered, though the command sounded noticeably less convincing than he intended.

Lucien’s eyebrows rose. “Well, after everything that has happened, I am quite surprised by you young one. You’re giving me instructions in my own home. I must say, Aegis has become considerably more adventurous since the last time I had the pleasure of dealing with your organisation.”

“Put your hands where I can see them.”

Lucien slowly withdrew his left hand from his pocket. He held it up beside the other, palms open, his expression one of exaggerated cooperation. “Like this?”

Dave said nothing.

“Wonderful. And now what? Do you intend to shoot me? Because I would advise against it. Not only would it be a waste of ammunition, but I have a rather unfortunate habit of becoming irritable when people make unnecessary messes in my home. Also, you do realize, my friend, that pointing a piece of shaped metal at me is roughly equivalent to spitting into a hurricane, don’t you?” Lucien asked, his tone laced with genuine, polite curiosity.

“Just drop the weapon, Dave,” Elena instructed quietly, her eyes never leaving Lucien’s face as she let her own sidearm slip from her fingers, watching it thud softly into the snow. “He isn’t bluffing. Holding it right now is entirely useless.”

For several seconds, Dave refused to move.

Then his eyes flickered toward the bodies in the courtyard, and something in his expression faltered. Swallowing hard, the man named Dave lowered the barrel, letting the rifle slip from his grip to join the growing pile of discarded gear in the snow.

Lucien watched the entire exchange with the patient interest of someone observing a pair of children finally agreeing to put away a dangerous toy.

Lucien let out a theatrical, exaggerated sigh of boredom. He walked past them toward a stone bench overlooking the gardens, brushing off a light dusting of snow before settling down comfortably. He crossed one long leg over the other, resting his elbows on his knees as he fixed his luminous blue eyes upon the two trembling operatives.

His eyes flickered toward the bodies scattered across the snow.

“I would have offered you refreshments, but I suspect the atmosphere has rather spoiled the occasion.”

Despite herself, the woman stared at him. He was making jokes. Standing in a courtyard filled with corpses, with blood on his clothes and the remains of her unit scattered across his estate, Lucien Blackthorne was making jokes.

And somehow, that frightened her more than if he had threatened to tear her apart.

“You both appear remarkably youthful,” Lucien observed, tilting his head as he studied their tactical gear. “Allow me to venture a guess… you must be the fresh, dewy-eyed graduates straight out of the Aegis tactical academy. I always find it equal parts tragic and hilarious when an organization sends its newest livestock out on a suicidal mission to test their mettle against an apex predator.”

He paused, resting his chin on his steepled fingers, his smile turning sharp and predatory. “So, tell me the absolute truth, and I might just reward your honesty by letting you walk out of these gates alive. What on earth possessed you to march into my private domain?”

The woman stiffened. Knowing that they cannot divulge information to the same man they were ordered to kill. “We’re just trained operatives.”

“Of course you are.” Lucien nodded solemnly. “And I am a modest man with no interest in interfering with the affairs of other people.” His gaze moved between them. “Now that we’ve established that we’re all capable of telling lies with a straight face, perhaps we can move on to something useful.”

Dave’s expression darkened, but he remained silent. Lucien tapped one finger against his crossed knee.

“When I ask a question, I would appreciate an honest answer. Not because I believe you owe me one, but because I find dishonesty tedious, and I would rather not spend the evening extracting information that you could have given me freely.”

Neither operative moved, their muscles locked in a paralyzing blend of terror and disbelief, neither daring to utter a syllable in the presence of the master strategist.

Seeing their paralyzed silence, Lucien sighed again, feigning profound disappointment. “I asked a rather simple question. And if you happened to read any of the preparatory briefings concerning my temperament, you should know that I possess a profound aversion to being left in awkward suspense. When Lucien Blackthorne asks a question… he fundamentally demands an answer.”

Elena swallowed the metallic taste of fear coating her tongue, forcing the words past her dry lips. “We were ordered to execute this strike… because our high command received definitive verification that a new weapon had been successfully developed.”

Lucien’s eyebrows arched upward in genuine intrigue, the playful amusement in his eyes sharpening into something intensely focused. “A new weapon, you say? How fascinating. And what manner of weapon warrants such blind confidence from your superiors?”

“A weapon,” Elena whispered, her voice tight with lingering dread, “engineered specifically for one purpose: capable of terminating an Original and severing your immortal line for good.”