Joseph's car rolled to a stop at the outer front gate of Enigma. Morning had barely begun; employees were still trickling in, briefcases in hand, adjusting ties, clutching coffee cups. But today, something was different. A crowd pressed ahead of the employees—waiting, restless.
Reporters. Cameramen. Lenses trained like weapons.
The moment Joseph's car came into view—
CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!
Flashes erupted, blinding, relentless. Cameras fired like machine guns, each shot chasing his face, his every move.
"Mr. Joseph!" A voice shot above the chaos. "Social media claims you were at the forest incident last night! Is it true?"
David stiffened at the question. His expression, calm even under the daily nuisance of reporters these past three days, hardened instantly. His jaw clenched.
"There's no way... how are they getting this information so fast?" he muttered, his mind racing. "Someone's leaking it. Someone is really targeting us."
He moved instinctively, standing shoulder to shoulder with Joseph.
Joseph's patience—already threadbare—snapped thinner. His voice came rough, edged with restrained fury.
"Move. Now. I don't have time to waste—it's urgent."
The crowd ignored him, voices overlapping, microphones shoved closer.
Inside Enigma, on the Tenth floor, Thomas had been seated at his desk. A faint commotion outside drew his attention.
"What the hell is going on now?"
He swiveled in his chair, picked up the remote, and tapped a button. The blinds peeled open, revealing the scene below. Reporters swarmed Joseph and David, flashes strobing like lightning.
Thomas's face drained.
"No... not now. He's not in the right state for this!"
He shot up from his chair and rushed for the door.
Meanwhile, at the gates—
David tried reason, his voice firm but controlled.
"Please! As he said, it's urgent business. We'll give you answers later!"
But one reporter shoved forward, voice sharp, accusatory.
"You think your involvement is a small matter? Bringing truth to the public is just as urg—"
WHAM!
The words cut off with a violent crack. The reporter flew back, stumbling across the pavement, gasping for air.
The crowd froze. Silence crashed over them, stunned faces processing what just happened.
David's heart sank. "Oh no... not here. Not now."
Joseph stood unmoving, fist still half-clenched from the strike. His chest heaved once, twice, before he broke the pose and shoved the next few bodies aside, forcing a path through sheer weight of presence.
No apology. No explanation. Just forward.
David followed quickly, lips pressed thin. He didn't speak a word.
Elsewhere—
Amayra nearly dropped her coffee as the live feed played on the big screen at the Fast News Channel office. Reporters on-site were still shouting, cameras scrambling to capture Joseph storming through the gates.
Her mouth hung open, disbelief tightening her chest.
"Has Joseph lost his mind? Striking a reporter—in broad daylight?!"
She slammed the cup onto the nearest desk, coffee sloshing over the rim, and grabbed her bag.
"You guys keep covering this. I'll be back."
She didn't say where she was going. She didn't need to. The fire in her eyes gave enough of a hint.
Joseph stormed through Enigma's glass doors, ignoring the shocked gasps of employees in the lobby. His aura was suffocating, his steps predatory. He wasn't here for work. He wasn't here for peace.
He was here for ADAM.
His eyes scanned the ground floor, sharp as blades. And then—he spotted him.
Adam, walking casually toward the escalator, head bent over his phone, oblivious.
Joseph's voice cut through the air, low but sharp.
"Adam. We need to talk."
Adam paused, turned—
THWACK!
The punch landed before the words could sink in. Joseph's fist smashed across his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. Gasps erupted around the lobby.
Adam groaned, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. He pushed himself up, his voice dripping venom.
"I don't think that's what talking means."
Joseph didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, grabbing Adam by the collar with both hands, lifting him half off the ground. His voice came in a guttural growl, barely restrained.
"Where is she?"
Adam's eyes widened, confusion painted across his face.
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Don't. Don't you dare act like a fool." Joseph's grip tightened, veins bulging along his arms. His voice broke into a snarl. "You know. You've always known. Tell me—before I tear you apart."
The sound of shuffling feet grew louder. Employees from the first floor crowded the railings above, peering down into the lobby. The glass guardrails filled with faces, murmurs buzzing like hornets.
Adam lifted his chin, meeting Joseph's glare with silence.
Joseph's breath grew ragged, his teeth gritted, his voice bursting out—
"SPEAK, GOD DAMN IT!"
His roar shook the lobby, echoing through every floor of Enigma.
The building held its breath.
The lobby froze under Joseph's roar. Adam's silence hung heavy, the crowd buzzing with whispers above.
And then—
"Joseph."
Thomas's voice cut through the air, calm but sharp, carrying authority that silenced even the murmurs. He stepped forward, each stride deliberates, his gaze locked not on Adam, but on Joseph.
"That's enough."
Joseph turned, his fists still clutching Adam's collar. For a moment, their eyes clashed—fury against Thomas's cold steel. Then, without waiting for Joseph's answer, Thomas laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Come with me. Now."
The command wasn't a request. It was an order.
Reluctantly, Joseph released Adam, his collar slipping from his fists. The younger man slumped back, rubbing his jaw, but Joseph didn't spare him a glance. His eyes stayed fixed on Thomas as he followed him past the crowd, their footsteps echoing through the silence.
Inside Thomas's office...
The blinds snapped shut with a sharp click as Thomas tapped the control. The office dimmed, the soft glow of the city cut away, and the room felt suddenly small and dangerously private—an arena away from the prying lenses and the roar beyond the glass.
"You crossed a line," Thomas said, low and measured, every syllable clipped with warning. "Throwing punches in the lobby. Striking reporters in front of cameras. You're not just risking yourself, Joseph — you're dragging the rest of us into the mud."
Joseph's jaw worked. He paced once, the leather of his shoes whispering across the floor. He stopped, turned, and the office air seemed to sharpen around him.
"Don't lecture me about appearances," he said, voice tight as a snapped wire. "Did you not feel it? Adam's fingerprints are everywhere — every leak, every shadow. It ties back to him."
Thomas didn't flinch. His face hardened, an immovable wall of authority. "Suspicion isn't proof. You don't get to tear everything down because you want answers. You lash out like flame, Joseph — and fire consumes indiscriminately."
Joseph stepped closer until the space between them fizzed with heat. His voice dropped, a growl folded into words. "No. Lies consume. And you — you're drowning in them, too."
The silence that followed was heavy, a pressure that pressed against their ribs like the calm before a storm.
Then the door exploded inward.
"JOSEPH!" Amayra's voice smashed into the room like thunder. She strode in, rain of adrenaline still on her, eyes alight with barely contained fury. "Have you lost your mind? Reporters? Innocent people doing their jobs—and you attack them? In broad daylight, with the whole world watching?"
Joseph's head snapped toward her, muscles knotted. There was exhaustion shadowing his face, but the embers of rage still glowed in his eyes.
"They're not innocent," he said, the words trembling with venom. "They're pawns. Tools meant to corner us."
Amayra closed the distance, her finger stabbing the air between them. "No, Joseph. You're wrong. They didn't choose this — they were sent. You can't smash everyone in your path because you feel hunted."
Thomas's gaze flicked between them; jaw clenched so hard a vein throbbed at his temple. For the first time, Joseph felt the weight of both mentor and friend pressing against him, their voices a suffocating chorus he couldn't ignore.
"You don't know anything. Stay out of this!" Joseph snapped, the warning in his voice like a blade.
"I know more than you ever could!" Amayra fired back. Her anger was a live wire, bright and dangerous. "I know everything — better than you will in a lifetime."
Thomas raised his hand, not in surrender but to steady the spiraling heat. "Amayra, listen. I can handle this. Step back."
"Step back?" Her laugh was short and bitter. "You're taking his side now?"
"I'm not taking sides," Thomas said, voice level, immovable. "He's right — there are things you don't know."
"That's nonsense," Amayra said, chest heaving. "Then tell me. Tell me what's happening. I deserve to know."
Thomas's eyes darkened like thunderclouds. He didn't whisper; he declared. "THE DEMONS ARE BACK!"
The words landed like a physical blow. Amayra's color drained. Her mouth opened; the world narrowed until only that sentence remained, ringing in her ears.
"If you're making excuses, at least make them believable," she muttered, the disbelief in her voice raw and personal.
"It's not an excuse," Thomas said, each syllable heavy. "Everything I told you as a child... it was true." He took a step closer to the center of the room, turned, and extended a hand toward Joseph as if introducing a figure from a nightmare.
"This man — standing before you — is a descendant of Vampire Lord William II."
Amayra's eyes flared. For a breathless moment she was an island of confusion, until realization crept across her face like frost. "Wait... what?" The words fell out of her in a hiss of astonishment.
"Thomas is right," Joseph said quietly, addressing the disbelief in her eyes. "My name is Joseph. My surname — my lineage — comes from my mother, Aria." His voice softened for a flicker; sorrow passed through his features when he said her name.
Thomas's hand landed on his shoulder, a brief, authoritative steadiness — old loyalty meeting new storm. The contact was small, but it tethered Joseph, and Thomas's eyes held more than reprimand: they held shared history and the burden of truth.
"But being royal blood doesn't justify what you did," Amayra continued, the reprimand reasserting itself. Her jabbed a finger toward Joseph, then cut himself off. "You harmed innocents. That makes you no different from—"
"Enough," Thomas snapped, stopping Amayra's mouth from finishing whatever word it would have been.
His intervention was sharp, final. He squared his shoulders, the leader once more in command of a situation teetering toward chaos.
"If you don't know exactly what's happened the last few days, you should remain silent."
He turned to Joseph; words sharpened with urgency.
"And you — you need to lay low. Multiple agencies have eyes on you. You're drawing attention while trying to fix things."
Joseph's reply was immediate, desperate.
"There's no time to stay low. If I hesitate, Sabrina — she could die."
The name hung in the air like a thrown blade.
"You'll die before that," Thomas shot back too quickly, almost pleading in the edge of his voice.
He pointed at the faint dark stain through Joseph's shirt, then at the wound at his chest. "Lazarus told us — the demonic energy seeded inside you is unstable. If we don't act, it will consume you. We have ten days at most. We must get you back to the Vampire castle."
KRAK!
The wordless knock of their reality striking the floor. Joseph sucked air in as if he'd been punched. Time compressed; every thought around them snapped into focus: the wound, the warning, the impossible deadline.
Joseph's hands curled into fists. For a moment, every muscle in his body trembled between rebellion and resignation.
"No..." The word escaped in a breath, ragged. He shook his head once, defiant.
"Ten days. You'd send me away when I'm needed here?"
Thomas's face was granite, carved and unyielding, yet beneath the hardness, Joseph saw it — a flicker of fear. His mentor's voice was steady, but it carried the weight of command.
"If you burn yourself out, there will be no 'I'm needed here.' We move you. We control what we can. Right now, you need treatment."
Amayra stepped forward, confusion flickering across her face. "Dad... you're going too? What about the company?"
"I'll appoint someone as acting President." Thomas's answer was immediate, firm.
Her brow pinched, her voice softer now, tinged with worry. "Do you really have to go?"
"Yes," Thomas said. His eyes dimmed with past; voice edged with old duty. "The Conjurare — the knowledge our ancestors entrusted to Lord William. They'll need my help to cure Joseph."
Amayra's shoulders slumped, her face dull for a heartbeat. Then, a spark lit her eyes again. "Then... I can tag along?"
The office door creaked open. David slipped in with quiet steps, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth.
"No, my dear," Thomas said, shaking his head. "The Vampire Castle is a secret place. Too many outsiders would only make things harder for them. And after... that incident, humans are not exactly welcome." His words hung heavy — the past of Lady Aria's death because of humans echoing in every syllable.
David leaned casually against the doorframe, his voice breaking the tension like a thrown stone. "No problem at all. She can definitely come with us."
Joseph's glare shot toward him like a knife. This wasn't the moment for jokes, and David knew it. Still, he held his ground, shrugging. "Obviously, the final decision is Joseph's."
Joseph's gaze slid to Amayra. He didn't want to speak. Didn't want to decide. But her face... that determined fire in her eyes, threaded with worry, mirrored another face in his memory. Sabrina.
He exhaled slowly, voice low, almost reluctant. "...Okay."
The room froze. David blinked, stunned. Even Thomas's expression faltered with surprise.
Joseph turned toward Thomas then, his voice sharpening into steel. "I don't care about politics. I don't care about appearances. But Adam — he knows something. And I will make him speak."
His stare hardened, a predator's promise. "If anyone wants to stop me... they can try."
With that, Joseph pivoted, the door slamming shut behind him.
BAMMMM!
For a moment, silence clung to the office. David looked from Thomas to the door, then back again, unease stirring in his chest.
"...Guess I'd better make sure he doesn't burn the whole city down, for now I will keep check on him!" he muttered, and hurried after Joseph.
As Adam moved out, his facial expression changed, that little funny expression changed to worry!
He looked left and right, not once but twice but Joseph was already gone.
To be Continued...