The Vampire's Luna
Chapter 202: Who Is This Source?

Chapter 202: Who Is This Source?

"Who is this source?"

Veyron tried to keep his tone measured, almost lazy. He didn’t like unknown variables, especially when he was this close to his destination. He tilted his head, trying to read the scout’s face for anything.

"The only troublemaker in Blood City." The scout rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by the mention.

"Lord Gabriel," Veyron said. How did he know? Had someone been watching him?

"It will just take a minute to check and you can be on your way," the scout said, trying to sound casual.

Veyron offered a short nod. He stepped out of the vehicle. His boots crunched lightly on the gravel as he walked toward the back of the truck.

Calmly, he unlatched the back door and pulled it open, revealing a perfectly arranged cargo space stacked with luxurious black-and-gold crates.

It was filled to the top with cases of expensive wine.

"I plan on taking them to the brewery so they can add pints of blood in each bottle," he said lightly, turning back to the scout with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Whew! That’s a lot of money in there, Sage. Wow!" The scout gave a low whistle, stepping closer, likely overwhelmed by the sheer luxury.

"You think the party will be a blast?" Veyron asked, casually closing the truck doors again.

"Ooooh, I’d love to be a fly on the wall," the scout said, grinning as he imagined what elite vampire parties must be like.

Veyron chuckled softly and patted the man on the back, the same way a noble would pat the head of a loyal dog. "Perhaps one day," he said.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, Sage." The scout offered a respectful nod, stepping back.

"It’s okay," Veyron said as he began walking to the front of the truck. The exit was so close. He could almost taste the sanctuary of secrecy again.

But then, another scout approached.

This one walked with more purpose.

Veyron didn’t like that at all.

"Have you searched the vehicle?"

The commanding voice cut through the night. It belonged to the new scout—clearly someone of higher authority.

"Yes, sir. It’s just bottles of drinks for a party," the previous scout replied, a bit too quickly, already on the defensive.

"Did you bring them down?"

There was precision in the man’s tone. Veyron’s eyes flicked to him.

"No, I mean... it’s Sage Veyron," the scout stammered, lowering his voice as though the name itself carried immunity.

"I don’t care if he’s the king of Blood City."

The new scout turned cold eyes on Veyron. "Bring it all down and search the truck."

Veyron remained still. He gave a single nod and stepped aside, as if to say, Do what you must.

Internally, though, the storm had already begun. The cases had been packed meticulously. Dozens of ornate wine bottles carefully arranged to obscure the barrels hidden behind. If they unloaded even halfway through the second row, the game would be up. And worse—he wasn’t afraid for himself. He was afraid for what it meant.

For the queen.

For the unborn child.

A part of him wondered if this was the moment fate had chosen to unravel it all.

The scouts began the task with growing urgency. The first row of cases came down. Then the second. Glass clinked. Crates thudded. Dust spiraled underfoot. Veyron stood off to the side, arms folded behind him.

Then it happened.

A scout paused. Called another over. Whispered something. They moved deeper into the truck. The metallic latch of a hidden compartment groaned open.

It was done.

"Sage Veyron," the officer said as he approached, "I am putting you under arrest for the illegal smuggling of blood from the human territory into Blood City."

Without hesitation, they stepped forward and slapped the cuffs on him—sunstone metal to nullify vampire strength and speed. They burned against his wrists, humming with a low energy that made his muscles ache.

Still, Veyron said nothing.

No protests. No attempt to run. No defiance. He simply let them take him. His only movement was a slow glance toward the horizon.

He had known this was a risk. The Order protecting the unborn royal heir had grown thin. His only hope now was that someone in the secret order would finish what he had started.

As they dragged him away into the darkness, Veyron never looked back.

He had made his choice. It was his sacrifice to ensure Blood City had an heir that would protect the likes of him.

*****

Doctor Thessaly arrived at the prince’s castle just as the first fingers of dawn crept over the peaks of Blood City. The chill in the air clung to her.

She barely acknowledged the guards as she passed through. She had received word just hours before—Sage Veyron had been arrested. And not by accident. Someone had known. Someone had tipped them off.

And if they had reached him, the one most loyal to the royal house—then nothing was safe anymore.

She pushed through the grand entry, her breath catching with urgency as she swept past. The protocol was clear. They had discussed this scenario in theory, but no one had ever believed it would come to pass.

Step one: Inform the king.

Step two: Keep the queen in the dark—at all costs.

Step three: Activate every remaining covert asset to ensure the survival of the heir, even if it meant war in the shadows.

She found King Damien on the eastern balcony of the living room, seated, fingers curled around a steaming cup. The scent of coffee lingered in the air. He was gazing over the city.

When he turned at the sound of her arrival, the moment he saw the strain in her eyes, the tension carved into her brow, the subtle tremor in her shoulders, he knew.

"Veyron..." Damien whispered.

Thessaly gave a single, solemn nod. Her lips parted, but no words came for a long moment. She could see it—the way the weight of the kingdom seemed to drop all at once onto Damien’s shoulders, the invisible crown pressing against his skull. His breath caught, eyes flicking away from her gaze as his hand tightened unconsciously around the cup.