Teru sat on the exam table with crinkly paper while Dr. Charles was on his wheeled chair in front of him, meticulously threading the wound on his inner arm. It was ironic how a thin needle injured him enough that it required three stitches, but a large explosion that practically destroyed an entire floor wasn't.

The vampire listened carefully to Teru's story as he inspected his condition – from being able to go against Blaise's pheromones, getting stuck under the debris, the king finding him as he was entering hibernation, and waking up to sickening conversations about green collars and using his body for who knows what. Teru left the part out about the mysterious woman who had helped him; he didn't know if she was a figment of his imagination or if it actually happened.

"And then you found me," he finished his tale.

Dr. Charles's eyes looked tired as dabbed the sutures with an alcoholic wipe. "You...are incredibly lucky. Both of you sure like to put me through the ringer. It's been more hectic than usual since that day," he mumbled. "Don't get your stitches wet for 24 hours. Wash it twice daily with water."

He got up and told him, "Don't move from that spot. I mean it. I'll be back in three minutes."

Teru did just that, not even considering the notion of leaving this room. It was too scary out there. He wondered if that doctor or the king noticed he was missing.

Just as promised, Charles returned after three minutes on the dot. He was holding a pile of folded clothes – a white t-shirt, a long navy-blue coat, black jeans, and indoor slippers. From where he sat, Teru could tell these had belonged to an alpha. His nose scrunched up.

"This is to hide your scent. Security is on the lookout for a missing omega."

Already? That was faster than he had anticipated. Teru kept thinking to himself, Ew, ew, ew, as he changed out of the hospital gown into the reeking clothes, being careful not to snag his stitches on the sleeves.

"Oh, right," Dr. Charles snapped his fingers when he remembered something. Like before when finding the collar, he dug through the mountains of messy paperwork and folders, not caring that half of it tumbled to the floor below. He saw Teru staring at his odd behavior and clarified, "As I said, Pride created a hell of a mess this week and the other sins have been paying the price for failing to control him–ah, found it. By the way, I wasn't aware Kieran let you keep something made of pure silver."

He held out a small wolf plush and his silver crane ring hanging on a chain to him. Teru immediately grabbed both items and asked, "Why do you have these? Where's Kieran?"

This was getting weird. He hurriedly put the toy in his coat pocket and the ring around his neck, tucking it safely under his shirt. He felt better now that he had it, like a security blanket.

The doctor leaned his hips against his desk with crossed arms. "Long story short, Lust and I were no match against Pride, probably because he became stronger after drinking your blood. He ended up destroying seven more floors and killed twelve vampires in the process, including a councilman. That person was important, someone who makes decisions about Avania's policies and other matters. Envy and King Abaddon suddenly came to help but by that time, Pride was already weak from getting sick again. It was easier to take him down once it was four against one."

Teru's stomach dropped upon hearing Kieran had reacted negatively to his blood. "So, my blood doesn't work after all..."

"Oh no, it does. Trust me. Kieran had a much better reaction to yours than anyone else's. Just let him keep trying until he gets used to the feeling of being full again. Given the extreme response, it's exactly what he needs to return to his former glory. There's something about your blood, I suppose."

That was confusing. "I don't understand."

Charles sighed and gestured Teru to sit on the chair next to him. He pulled out a key and unlocked the bottom drawer of the desk. It contained a single, thick file. The vampire swiped everything off the tabletop so nothing was on it except the folder. One by one, he laid out its contents – yellowed notes, black and white photographs, and sketches.

It worried Teru to pick up any of these. They seemed fragile and would crumble by the slightest touch.

But his eyes automatically went to some of the pictures. Even to him, he knew these were very old; perhaps some of the first photographs ever taken. The photographer, probably Dr. Charles, had taken various shots of body parts. The images were fuzzy, yet he could tell who it was in them.

It was Kieran.

Teru felt his stomach bile rise in his belly. One movie Kieran reluctantly let him watch was Saw, a bloody, horror flick that was very graphic in the way the victims were tortured and killed. Funny enough, Teru wasn't scared of it; probably because he knew it was all fake. That film didn't do these photos justice.

But these pictures...they were real.

He couldn't describe the gruesomeness of the gashes, lacerations, and welts covering Kieran's body. Missing toe and fingernails, chunks of muscles sliced out to expose his white bones, a horrifying burned nape that was branded every day...

There was so much more, but he couldn't look at them all.

The one that stood out to him the most was Kieran looking straight at the camera, a husk of his past, lionized self now a broken bottom feeder. He was hissing at the camera. All of his fangs were missing. His long, greasy hair strands fell over his face to hide his hollowed cheeks. Although Teru couldn't see below his bare torso, it was obvious he was nothing but skin and bones. Literally, he resembled someone who had been starved for months.

"Years," Charles interrupted his sad thoughts as if knowing what Teru was thinking. "At the time, our trading routes were being threatened in the former Middle East around the mid-19th century, if I recall correctly. During one of our scuffles with the enemy near the conclusion of an entire war, Kieran was our field marshal. That was the highest rank in the British Army at the time. The battle was over, but he was nowhere to be seen. We thought he had abandoned us and went into hiding, which happens sometimes to each of us to compose our sins."

He picked up the picture Teru was looking at with Kieran exposing his fangless mouth. "And then, I don't know, maybe five or six decades later, he randomly showed up on my doorstep in Scotland where I was practicing medicine under a different name. I took this photo on that very same day. It turned out Van Helsing and other vampire hunters took the opportunity to kidnap him during the battle's chaos and kept him captive in some underground bunker that whole time in England, without seeing sunlight or was provided barely any blood supply. They conducted so many experiments on him. Letting doctors try out new operations on his body without pain relief. Burning his nape daily. Ripping out his fangs which Kieran had possessed in his battered hand's death grip. It took a week of convincing before he entrusted them to me to reattach, which was a groundbreaking surgery if I say so myself," Charles declared proudly. "Van Helsing was already an old man and the vampire hunter culture was practically extinct as society became more modernized, believing vampires were nothing but myths. With the lack of manpower and church involvement, Kieran finally found the perfect moment to kill the man who tortured him for years, taking back his fangs."

Teru took all of this in, imagining being in that situation. Besides relating to being a prisoner underground, the rest he couldn't fathom. He twiddled his thumbs. "So, he can't drink blood because of his fangs? Were they not...put back in correctly?"

Dr. Charles was a little offended. "I reattached them perfectly after a three-day operation, all day and all night, capillary by capillary, nerve by nerve. He can drink blood just fine, technically."

"But he gets sick every time," Teru disagreed. "I've seen it."

The vampire inched closer and closer to the omega, becoming stimulated by the health-related conversation. Wrath was finally telling someone the juicy details about his brother's condition, something he was dying to spill.

The hair on Teru's arms stood up, feeling the pressure of a soon-to-be predator.

His eyes were twinkling as he said, "That's where you're wrong. My brother can drink blood like any other vampire. But it's all in here," he tapped his own forehead with a long fingernail, "in his head. Post-traumatic stress disorder. He never recovered mentally and went straight to work when his body healed to distract himself from the night terrors. In other words, his psychological state is preventing him from drinking. I've tried to explain, but he won't consider the possibility that he's doing it to himself, which hurts his pride. That's why your blood could help him get over that centuries-long hump."

Amid his speech, Wrath had slowly stalked over to Teru until he loomed right over him. Teru looked down at the floor, shaking. The dominant alpha's pheromones weighed heavily on his thin shoulders.

Dr. Charles realized what he was doing and quickly reeled in his scent. He collected the vintage brittle paperwork to put it away. "I apologize. I don't discuss Kieran's health with others. It excited me knowing you could be the key to healing him. Who knows what our stepfather would do if that occurs? That's why he's been so tolerant of Kieran all these years because of his weakened state. With you here, you're like a wildcard. No one knows where to place you on the chessboard, but you're still the most important piece in the game."

His riddles were complicated to follow because Teru didn't know the pastime activities he was referring to. He wasn't there against his will to be anyone's game piece or a card – he just wanted to live a quiet life.

And Kieran was the only one who could help him the most. Lucas, too. Teru finally admitted to himself that he couldn't escape here alone.

"Please," Teru spoke up. He was ready to go, wanting his bed. "Tell Kieran to come get me now."

Charles grimaced and scratched the back of his neck. "Er, hmm, that's a little...complicated right now. He won't be released until tomorrow. They've already prepared a new penthouse for him, but I don't have the code to let you in there."

Teru's anxiety was rising. "Where is he?"

"I think it's best if you don't know–"

He stood up, took a confident step forward, and growled back with unwavering eye contact, "Where. Is. He."

The omega had just challenged Wrath, an alpha.

But his sudden personality switch took aback Charles, causing him to step back and trip over his chair. It forced him to sit down. He grinned wickedly. "Oh my, how the tables have turned. Very well, I'll tell you exactly where. Since he killed a high-ranking politician, King Abaddon sentenced him to be publicly humiliated for three days in Times Square, a fitting punishment for someone who specializes in pride, no? He's tied up right now on the beta auction stage, being stoned day and night by blood slaves. Pride must be vehement that humans who are worth less than cattle are pelting him with heavy rocks–"

The door slammed open.

Security guards rushed into Charles's office, surrounding both him and Teru. The last one to enter was the ruler of Avania himself. Abaddon went over to Teru who avoided the dangerous man's eyes.

Saying nothing, Abaddon roughly grabbed Teru's jawline to force him to look up.

It was painful how hard he pressed into his cheeks. Teru felt him pull on the black collar, seeing if it was real.

When Abaddon was convinced it was, he said, "The blood trail on the floor led me straight here. How thoughtless, but thankfully you've been recovered before my impudent stepson could take you for himself."

Abaddon unexpectedly ran to Charles and slapped his face. The force of it broke his nose, blood leaking out like a waterfall.

"As for you, Wrath, I see you found him and put a black collar around his pretty throat. Did I not tell you to dispose of the thing when it was found in Pride's apartment?"

"..."

The king slapped him once more, splitting his lip. "Well?"

"...You told me to throw it out."

"So why do I see this," yanking on Teru's collar, choking him into a whimper, "on him? How am I supposed to mark him as mine, hmm? You ruined half of my plans for him."

Charles was obviously on the brink but didn't let it consume him. "I apologize, Your Majesty."

"Worthless. Absolutely worthless. You can just walk yourself to Times Square and join Pride in the stoning and finish out his sentence with him as his partner in crime."

"...Yes, I'll go do that."

Abaddon held out his hand. After a security guard placed a black leash in his palm, he hooked it up to Teru's collar like a pet about to be taken out for a walk. He pulled the leash, forcing Teru to follow him out of the hospital floor.

"Let's go have some fun, shall we?" he asked, releasing his powerful pheromones around them to make all the others submit to him as they passed by. There was something off about the king's aura. It wasn't like a human's nor a vampire's.

Kieran wouldn't be free until tomorrow, supposedly.

Now, Teru would be alone with the most terrifying individual on this side of the hemisphere. His mother would have a heart attack and his father was probably rolling in his grave.

Alpha, please help me!