9. Hayden

9

HAYDEN

Dear Diary,

I've never told anyone this, but…Santiago hit my mom when I was a freshman in high school. I didn't see it. I was too busy with homework, studying hard for my next exam in the living room. Nash stood up so fast from his bedroom, facing theirs across the hall. He charged towards them. Each step of his was loud and indignant, his balled fists at his side like he was ready to beat Santiago into a pulp. I stopped writing, holding my pencil in trembling hands, afraid of what would come next. Santiago locked the bedroom door on him before Nash could confront him. Nash banged on their door, cursing and threatening to kill him if he ever hit my mother again. Needless to say, Santiago didn't open the door, and my mother made excuses for his actions the next day, pardoning him and giving Santiago another chance he didn't deserve. That was the last time Nash stayed at my mother's place and left for my father's. He moved there, and I stayed.

Because how could I leave my mother with Santiago?

She's going to need someone, I thought—a shoulder to cry on when he hurts her again mentally. But…even I had my breaking point. I left when he broke all my snow globes. I started my collection again, but it's not the same. But mostly, I left when my mother decided that her relationship was more important. She told me that again and again with her absent parenting. She chose him. She chose to leave me and my brother behind. Forcing us to be around this suctioning of evil. Stealing our light and innocence. To watch their toxicity toward one another like it was normal. My mom had plenty of chances to choose us. Santiago encouraged her to leave him over and over again. He's told her flat out that he didn't love her and is just waiting for the day she leaves.

She told me once that she regrets having children.

I guess some people may find it weird that I'm still writing about these things, but I worry about my mother. I worry about her every day and every night, hoping and wishing that one day, she'll see her worth. That one day, she'll change and be the parent my brother, and I need her to be.

She's beautiful, independently financially supporting herself, and most of all, strong.

Anyway, what triggered these memories was her birthday. She's turning forty-five. I called her to say happy birthday, but she didn't answer. She was on a plane going somewhere to celebrate with Santiago. Instead of singing Happy Birthday with her and eating cake, I worked until closing time.

~Millie

I close Millie's diary. I've been reading it since I took her.

After Millie smashed the lamp over me, I became enraged to the point where I didn't have control and blacked out. My memories of that night are of a dark fog. All I know is that her father entered the house shortly after.

I walk into my father's council room, where he holds intimate meetings. It's his vampire man cave filled with blood in glasses that have rare jewels decorated on the glass bottles. He's pouring himself a glass of O-negative blood. We usually do this once a week to give into the cravings, to hold the temptations at bay. To prevent us from going into town and slaughtering innocents for their blood.

Our human servants bring them in for us.

"Hayden."

"Father," I fleer.

I sit down at the table, throwing my hands behind my head, and slip my feet onto the table, one leg over the other, waiting for him to spill.

"She's a Valkyrie. I can smell her. Once you entered the state, I could smell her. If the Davenports cross into our region and enter the state, they'll know she's here. They'll know we're keeping her, and the first war in centuries will fucking start."

"I know." She smells sweet. It's a cliche way of describing her blood, but it's the truth. A Valkyrie's scent is so desirable and thick that it causes any immortal's fangs to extract just with a slight whiff and our eyes to go feral for it—like a shark in the ocean when it smells blood. A scent that is floral, fruity, serene, and lustrous, begging to be inhaled so much so that we become enchanted.

She's dangerous .

Valkyries are rare, after all.

"You were right, by the way. There were three Davenports outside her home when I arrived. They ran when they saw me coming."

"Of course, I was right. This isn't my first rodeo. I've been around for centuries to know that the Davenports wouldn't give up on finding her. It was only when they would find her again ." My father sighs.

"They're cunts," I spit.

"Hayden," he scolds. He lifts an impatient brow.

"What? I'm not apologizing for saying it. You're thinking it, too. Everyone thinks the southern king is a dick."

"Hayden." My father's right-hand man warns me with a low growl. "Disrespect of another king will not be tolerated in this cathedral," Holland challenges me. His ancient, bony hands curl against the desk until his knuckles turn white. Holland has been around just as long as my father has. He's never liked me. He's always favored my little brother Kallum over me. That I can agree with. Kallum follows the rules.

My system of rules results in grey areas. I don't believe in right or wrong. I don't thrive in a black-and-white mentality. I believe there's more to that, and that may be why my father and mother prefer that I take over than the latter…my brother. I love grey areas. I love problems. And I love when I get to choose the way I handle it.

"Forgive me, father." My tone heightens like I'm apologizing, but I'm not. "But I don't care." I snarl low. "I'm the only one that shows candor, and I won't change for you," I tilt my head towards Holland, "or for anyone." I lick my lips, leaning over the table. Flashing my white teeth with a big smile that can only be interpreted as I don't give a flying fuck .

"Enough, you two! Hayden!" My father roars and turns to me. I slowly let my back fall down until it hits the back of the leather chair softly. "There's only one way to be sure Millie is a Valkyrie."

I lift an eyebrow. I know what he's implying. He wants to feed on her.

I scoff out a bitter laugh. "Already wanting a bite out of Ms. Flores, father? Mom would find a way to kill you before you sink your fangs into her." I bite out a laugh, looking at my watch. I'm late for a party and with my midnight fling. Getting drunk and having an emotionless quick fuck, after a long night of traveling sounds like a good time to me, and I don't want it to go to waste.

"Not me..." He raises a glass to his lips, staring me down with those demanding eyes.

He wants me to bite her?

He's waiting for me to challenge him. Rebel against his order. Anticipating a clash of an argument, but an odd, unfamiliar emotion slithers into my chest.

I'm actually considering it. She's mouth-watering, after all. Her blood is so rare that wars have been fought over humans like her.

"You want me to bite her? You want me to commit a crime? Are you saying what I think you're saying, Father?" He's caught my attention. I lift my legs off the table and rest my elbows on my thighs, pressing him to tell me I'm wrong, but instead, he nods. He places the empty glass on the wooden table.

"No," I reply simply, almost robotically. I intertwine my hands together, clenching my jaw.

Once we bite a human from its warm, raw flesh, our emotions go rampant. Anger. Wrath. Lust. When they all mix together, it's dangerous and can result in their death. It's why we get it from blood banks most of the time. Over the years, we've studied and practiced getting it under control. It's what makes our soldiers, our warriors, our vampires so lethal.

Control . Strength . Reservation .

And if she's a Valkyrie, her blood will make me even more powerful. They say it's like being shot with adrenaline. Our basic immortal abilities like our strength, our speed, our thinking process is to the next power. And it's hard to stop from draining them, which results in killing them, and alas, our powers that await to be unlocked will reveal once the Valkyrie's heart stops beating.

"It's time you start taking over the tasks, son. You will take care of the North, our Cathedral, the military, and immortals will be under you whether you like it or not. I retire very soon. You are my son. You are a Drago!" He raises his voice with stipulation, each word louder than the one before. His eyes narrow down at me with blinding rage as he continues his outpour of frustration. "You were born a king. It's time you start acting like a fucking king!" He spits with venomous rage and uses his powers to spring over to the door in the blink of an eye.

I hold my ground, silently seething out of respect. I would never dare challenge him when he's in a state like this. His fangs protrude over his thin lips, and his eyes are transformed into a deep ruby red, glowing out of madness.

An awkward, thick silence fills the cold, dark, musty room.

I break it.

"Wow, Dad, you see? You ordering me around really brings out the color in your eyes. Maybe you should stay the king," I remark sarcastically. In a flash, I'm standing at the other end of the table, pouring myself my own glass of O-Negative blood. The delicious metallic fluid rolls down my throat and my fangs automatically point out. It's a reflex.

"Hayden," he scolds. He takes in a deep breath, his tone softening before he continues. "Take this seriously. If it's the one thing I have left to ask of you, take this role seriously. I cannot afford to lose you." His tone switches, unraveling a softer side, like he's hurt. Losing me means leaving my little, harmless brother to be in charge.

Kallum in charge would be a disaster in my father's eyes. In every single northern vampire's eyes. He's easily manipulated and easily taken advantage of, and we all know it. He would try to take a different approach when it comes to ruling.

My father pauses, sucking in a heavy breath like it's hard for him to continue.

It still baffles me to this day that even though we do not have a beating heart, our bodies act like we do. We act human when we're far from that.

"So, this is why you wanted me to kidnap her? Threaten her entire family's life? And here I thought you were a good man that followed the rules. I thought you had a soft spot for these fragile humans and wanted me to protect her. Not kill her." I shake my head. I'm all about breaking the rules. But even I know that taking a human's life means I go to the inferno for my execution.

It's specifically made to look like an arena. In the dead center, it's uncovered for the Immortals to be executed, specified for on-display executions. The sun is one of the ways to end us. That's why every cathedral in the four regions carries Stained Glass inside. If the sun is filtered with Stained Glass, it can shine on us without us dying or burning.

"After hundreds of years. I'm still learning something new about my father. A side of him that I can relate to." I smile, flashing my own fangs. I bow my head, dipping my glass like I'm raising a toast of celebration. I take a sip, and my taste buds erupt. I clench my jaw over and over again.

"Ah." I sigh and lick my lips. My taste buds are going wild. "That's damn fucking good."

If I'm correct, he wants Millie because the southern king does.

Power.

King Davenport wants to inflict fear into every other immortal because once our powers are unveiled, no one would dare challenge a vampire if their powers are of use.

"A war is brewing. The southern king is upset you killed one of his sons. He doesn't want you to marry Eleanor any longer."

Thank fuck . Relief floods me. I'm not meant to be anyone's husband.

"A meeting has been called with all four Immortal Kings. I think I've been pushed into a corner here, Hayden." He grips the doorknob tight. Our family crest ring turns around his finger slightly. A black snake wrapped around a bat.

I stand up excitedly. A seed has been planted in my dark mind. War . I want to see it thrive with thrill. I've been wanting to see the Davenports go up in flames or his head detached from his body since the day he killed my uncle. My uncle fell in love with a Valkyrie. It's forbidden to marry them.

"I will attend. As the new soon-to-be king, I want to be there." I place both palms on the redwood table. "If he wants to start a war, I'm as sure as hell going to end it and make him regret the day he ever challenged a Drago. No one threatens a Drago and gets away with it. No one blackmails or taunts us, and I'll make sure to make that known once you step down and I take over." I spit with rage. I turn to Holland, then back to my father. "I'll send a message to everyone when King Davenport's head is in my hands and his eyes are on the throne I sit on."

"Spoken like a true king," My father says proudly. He smiles at me, and for the first time in a long time, his eyes glimmer with prideful glee.

"Not my style, a little over the edge, but uh—" my father admits as he trails off. He shakes his head once worriedly. He fears his own son. They repeatedly remind me that I'm a monster. "I think it's best you take her for your own. Bite her. Get it over with. Kill her. Initiate your powers and take over the four kingdoms. No one would dare challenge us. I'm sure the Davenports will track her, here, soon."

Holland's red eyes widen, and he glances at me, then my father, forcing his long hair to whip. "Are you sure you want Hayden biting her? Kallum is more suitable, predictable, he's?—"

"Controllable." I interrupt his unnecessary rambling. Holland stiffens, slowly ripping his dark eyes from my father before pinning them on me like he's trying to control his seething.

He just won't quit, will he?

He won't give up on fighting for Kallum's ascension. A month ago, I would have been encouraging this. Agreeing to his outbursts and for my brother to wear the crown. But now? The chance to liberate my powers? The first immortal to do so in centuries? Well, that's just too much fun for me to give up now.

Holland stops talking like I've cut his tongue off with my blunt comment. He raises a white eyebrow, his lips turning into slits.

"He's controllable. You want to be able to control him, and you know you won't get that with me," I quip with a tightened tone. Holland will be my right-hand man when I take over. But I refuse to have someone by my side that continues to challenge my authority.

"That's not it at all, Hayden. You haven't been interested in being king for the past hundred years. Kallum has studied for this his entire life. He knows the laws. He knows how to rule with more peaceful procedures to keep us out of conflict with the other kings." His shaky, aged voice increases the tension in the air. My father walks towards him. Holland turned later in life. Probably right before he bit the dust.

"Holland, my dear friend." My father towers behind him. "You've been by my side since we were young, but my wife and I have made the decision. Hayden will ascend the throne. It is his birthright. Please stop challenging this." He places his hand on his shoulder, and Holland narrows his eyes at my father's gesture.

Then he turns to me, and with a smile, he says, "Davenports are after her. He wants power, and he won't stop until he's taken Ms. Millie for himself. You will be king. We're moving up your ascension. You don't have to get married right now." My eyebrows raise in relief. Good. I've never believed in monogamy.

"But you will wed. With an updated condition." I swallow, my body going rigid with anticipation. I watch my father flash to the door like he's about to leave, and Holland follows behind. The cold air whips by, making my dark hair sway.

"You can choose your wife now that the Southern King has gone rogue. The day you marry is the day you become king."

My heart sinks.

Fuck .

"What?" I murmur, my shoulders sinking.

Me? Choose a wife?

What the fuck.