Vampire Queen and Her Four Mates

Elena raised her head and looked into the distance.

In the swirling dust that rose without wind, over a hundred silhouettes emerged on the tree-lined path.

The human vampire hunters had arrived.

At the forefront of the group were three leaders: Damon, Mason, and a vibrant, orange-haired youth whose sunny disposition belied his deadly purpose.

At this moment, Elena had no idea that this boy would later become the greatest disaster of her life, even if he would only cause it indirectly.

With a loud crack, the tiles beneath her gave way, collapsing in an instant.

Caught off guard, Elena fell and landed hard on something soft and squishy—a rolling ball of flesh.

It was Ronan, the vampire elder who had earlier been knocked unconscious by Elysia.

"Elena, move! I dug a hole by the back fence!" Elysia shouted as she helped Elena to her feet and dragged the ball-shaped Ronan toward the chicken coop's rear.

Elena followed, but when they reached the spot, she froze in disbelief. Her voice darkened with disdain. "You dug a dog hole?"

Elysia shoved the ball through the gap first, then turned to glare at Elena. "So what if it's a dog hole? Are you seriously being picky right now?"

Elysia had nearly exhausted herself digging that hole. Her hands and legs were trembling from overexertion. If they didn't escape soon, the hunters would catch them, and they'd be dead.

"Ugh…" Elena hesitated, only to be unceremoniously shoved through the hole by Elysia.

Fine. She didn't choose this; she was forced—forced!

Outside the fence, a golden staff gleamed in the moonlight, blocking Elena's path.

The end of the staff bloomed into a snow-white lotus, its petals as sharp as blades, glistening with frost. Just an inch closer, and it would have slit Elena's throat, draining the blood of the Vampire Clan's ruler.

But its owner didn't seem keen on ending the game so soon.

Suppressing laughter, the man spoke, "Don't move. Hands up."

Elena narrowed her eyes. Her vision, already strained from overuse of her powers, was now blurry. In the face of the unknown, she begrudgingly raised her hands.

"Shit!" she cursed under her breath.

First, she was kicked out of a dog hole; now, she was being held at weapon-point. Could her luck be any worse?

Clang.

The golden staff suddenly dropped to the ground. Its owner crouched down, clutching his sides as he burst into laughter.

"Ha! Hahaha!"

Elysia crawled out of the hole, her wary eyes darting between the laughing figure and Elena, who still had her hands raised. Despite her confusion, she stepped in front of Elena protectively and demanded, "Who are you?"

"Me? I'm a vampire hunter, here to capture you both. But my sense of humor's a little too good. Let me finish laughing first—haha!"

The man laughed uncontrollably, showing no concern for his discarded weapon or the potential threat of a vampire attack.

Elena frowned, her tone skeptical. "Mason?"

No wonder the laugh sounded so infuriatingly familiar. Of course, it had to be him!

In this dire situation, meeting an old acquaintance—was it good luck or bad?

Mason laughed for a full ten seconds before finally calming down.

He picked up his staff and approached Elena with a teasing grin. "Little nun, we meet again. What's with your eyes? Can't see me?"

"I overused them earlier. I'm blind now," Elena snapped, rubbing her temples in frustration. "And what's with the 'hands up'? You messing with me?"

Mason tilted his head, feigning sympathy. "Life's been rough without me around, huh? How about this—when we get a chance, let's book a hotel room and... get reacquainted?"

"I refuse," Elena shot back, raising her chin arrogantly and rolling her eyes—at empty air.

Mason tapped her forehead with the end of his staff, turning her head to face him.

"Idiot," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "If you're going to roll your eyes, at least aim in the right direction. I'm over here. Who were you glaring at?"

"Hmph!" Elena huffed, rolling her eyes again—this time correctly.

Still, she wasn't about to thank him. Never.

Mason glanced at Elysia and then at the unconscious Ronan. He nudged the elder with his foot.

"Impressive. Your Vampire Clan is full of talent. Now get out of here. Just because I'm letting you go doesn't mean others will."

Especially one particular hunter—someone recently returned, with an unquenchable hatred for the Vampire Clan.

"Hmm, thanks," Elena muttered, brushing past him as she felt her way into the woods.

Mason watched her retreating figure, his staff resting across his chest.

"Little nun!" he called out. "You owe me one. Next time we meet, treat me to a meal!"

Elena's figure disappeared into the trees.

A meal? Sure, dream on.

Back at the chicken farm, silver powder rained from the sky as hunters unleashed their arsenal.

Damon wielded a frying pan, moving effortlessly through the black-cloaked vampires. Each strike was precise and deadly, never requiring a second blow.

The orange-haired youth spun his silver gun with practiced ease. Each bullet found its mark, felling fleeing vampires one after another.

Morgar and his group tore through the hunter's ranks, carving a path out of the encirclement.

Leading a handful of vampires to safety, Morgar growled through clenched teeth, "Damn it, we fell into that woman's trap."

Echo, her arm seared with silver powder, winced as white smoke curled from her wounds. Fury burned in her eyes.

"Elena's betrayed us! She's joined the humans to wipe out the Vampire Clan!"

Morgar, relatively unscathed, seethed with venomous intent. "If I catch her, I'll make her wish she were dead!"

"Ha! Spare me the righteous indignation," Zethar cackled as they fled. "Don't act like this isn't all about the two-billion reward on her head."

As a pureblood vampire, Zethar's Dark Gift was disruption. The more chaotic a situation, the happier he became.

"Shut it, you miserable cretin," Cyril growled, his icy voice cutting through the night. Beneath the shade of the Silver Radiance Umbrella, his black cloak billowed like shadows come alive.

"Elena," Morgar spat, his voice a mix of rage and despair as he tore off his hood, "I will never let you escape!"