Nikolai
A figure emerged from the shadows. Tall and regal, he introduced himself, “My name is Vladimir, the Vampire King of America.”
Nikolai didn’t flinch, though tension twisted in his gut. “You know who I am,” he replied, keeping his voice steady.
“You claim peace,” Nikolai challenged. “But why surround us?”
Vladimir held his gaze, unblinking. “I needed to ensure you wouldn’t attack.”
Nikolai raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I’ll listen.”
“You are not just the king of the werewolves; you’re the king of all supernatural beings—werewolves, vampires, elves, witches. Everyone,” Vladimir asserted, the weight of his words sinking into the air like a heavy fog.
“I know this. But I’m not naive. The other races don’t care. I’ve read the stories—how a vampire killed the last king
