MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

Chapter 390: Bloody heist

The night sky stretched over the city like a velvet blanket, stars twinkling faintly through the haze of light pollution. Atop a towering skyscraper, four figures stood silhouetted against the moon, their dark outfits blending seamlessly with the shadows.

Blake, Reggie, Randal, and Gunther gazed out over the urban landscape, their eyes fixed on a distant point of light - the Red Zone, Elena's infamous brothel. Despite being over a mile away, the establishment's gaudy neon signs were unmistakable, a beacon of vice in the sea of darkness.

"Took us a whole damn week to find this place," Randal grumbled, his voice low and gravelly.

Reggie nodded, his expression grim. "Elena's not stupid. She knows how to cover her tracks."

"But not well enough," Gunther added, a hint of pride in his voice. "We found her in the end."

Blake remained silent, his eyes never leaving the distant brothel. His jaw was clenched tight, a muscle twitching intermittently as he fought to control the rage simmering just beneath the surface.

"Remember," Reggie said, placing a hand on Blake's shoulder, "we're here for Damien. For Rose's sake. Elena... she's secondary."

Blake nodded curtly, but his thoughts told a different story. 'Secondary, my ass,' he thought bitterly. 'That bitch tried to kill me. She's going to pay.'

"Alright," Gunther said, breaking the tense silence. "Let's move. Remember, we can't get too close. If Elena senses us coming, this whole operation goes up in smoke."

With that, Reggie, Randal, and Gunther began to meld into the shadows, their forms becoming indistinct and fluid as they tapped into their shadow abilities. They moved across the rooftops with eerie grace, barely distinguishable from the darkness itself.

Blake, however, had a different path in mind. "I'm taking the streets," he announced. "I'll meet you there."

Before anyone could protest, he was gone, descending the building with inhuman speed and grace. His feet hit the pavement silently, and he began his journey towards the Red Zone.

As Blake walked, he was a study in contrasts. To the human eye, he appeared harmless - just another late-night wanderer, perhaps heading home from a bar or a long shift at work. His stride was casual, unhurried. He even managed to throw in a slight swagger, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

But beneath this carefully constructed facade, Blake was a cauldron of boiling rage. Each step brought him closer to Elena, and with each step, his anger grew. His mind raced with thoughts of vengeance, vivid scenarios of what he would do when he finally got his hands on her.

'I'll make her suffer,' he thought, his inner voice a vicious snarl. 'I'll corrupt her blood, just like she tried to do to me. I'll watch her writhe in agony as her own body turns against her.'

He passed by oblivious humans, their heartbeats a tempting rhythm in his ears. But Blake paid them no mind. His focus was singular, his purpose clear.

'Maybe I'll drag it out,' he mused, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 'Make her beg for mercy. Make her feel every ounce of pain she's inflicted on others.'

As he walked, Blake's power simmered just beneath his skin, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice. The air around him seemed to grow colder, shadows deepening wherever he passed. A couple walking towards him suddenly crossed the street, driven by an instinctive fear they couldn't quite explain.

With each block he covered, Blake's anticipation grew. The neon lights of the Red Zone grew brighter, the sounds of laughter and music drifting on the night air. He was getting close now, so close he could almost taste it.

'Elena thinks she's untouchable in her little kingdom,' Blake thought, his eyes flashing with barely contained fury. 'She's about to learn how wrong she is. I'll tear her empire down around her, brick by brick if I have to.'

As the brothel came into view, Blake allowed himself a moment of dark satisfaction. Soon, very soon, he would have his revenge. And Elena? Elena would learn the true meaning of fear.

The pulsing beat of music from the brothel spilled out into the night, mingling with the raucous laughter and chatter of patrons. A sudden clatter in the alley beside the entrance caught the bouncer's attention. Frowning, he stepped away from his post, rounding the corner to investigate.

In an instant, the night seemed to come alive. Shadows writhed and twisted, coalescing into a swirling vortex that engulfed the bouncer before he could even cry out. His massive form was swallowed whole, leaving nothing but empty air where he once stood.

From the dissipating darkness emerged Gunther, his eyes glowing a deep, menacing red. He scanned the crowd of scantily clad women and their potential clients, his gaze sharp and predatory. The brothel's gaudy neon lights cast an eerie glow on his features, accentuating the otherworldly nature of his presence.

Inside, amidst the throng of bodies and the haze of desire, Drake moved with practiced ease. His well-fitted suit stood out among the more provocative attire surrounding him. He was in the midst of attending to a VIP client, his voice smooth as silk as he described the "finest items" available in the house.

Suddenly, Drake stiffened. A chill ran down his spine, an unmistakable sense of danger prickling at the edges of his consciousness. With a practiced smile, he excused himself from the client, promising a swift return.

Drake pushed through the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor, his movements fluid yet urgent. He made his way to the exit, the cooler air a sharp contrast to the heated interior. His eyes immediately caught the absence of the bouncer, the empty space by the door like a glaring beacon of trouble.

Gritting his teeth, Drake rounded the corner, his body tense and ready for confrontation. He stopped abruptly, a slow, calculated smile carving across his face. Without turning, he spoke, his voice a mix of amusement and wariness. "Well, well. I wasn't expecting visitors tonight. Especially not ones who make such a...

dramatic entrance."

From behind him, shadows coalesced, taking the form of Gunther. His body flickered between solid and ethereal, wisps of darkness curling off his form like smoke. A mocking grin spread across his face, matching Drake's own.

"Drake, old friend," Gunther's voice was like gravel wrapped in silk. "I'm surprised your senses are still so keen. All this luxury hasn't dulled you after all."

The air between them crackled with tension, two predators circling each other in a dance as old as time. The sounds of the brothel seemed muffled, distant, as if the world had narrowed down to just this moment, this confrontation.

Drake turned slowly, his eyes never leaving Gunther's flickering form. "You know me, Gunther. I never let my guard down. Not even in the lap of luxury." His smile widened, showing just a hint of fang. "Now, why don't you tell me what brings you to our humble establishment? I doubt it's for our...

services."