As soon as James Aron obtained permission from Detective Craig, he and Victoria headed straight to the Chief Medical Examiner, where the autopsy was being conducted.
They took a taxi to get there. Throughout the ride, Victoria remained silent. Her expression was serious, her thoughts still fixed on the two men in black jackets she had encountered earlier.
Aron, noticing the shift in her mood, chose to stay quiet. Since the taxi had started moving, he had been staring out the window, letting the sounds of the city fill the silent space between them.
The taxi eventually stopped at their destination.
"You surprise me," Victoria said as they stepped out.
"Why?" Aron asked, slightly taken aback.
"You spend a lot on taxi fares."
Aron smiled faintly as he walked beside her toward the entrance.
"I prefer taxis over the subway. Feels safer."
Victoria glanced at him.
"You already got paid for those two cases?"
Aron shook his head.
"Then where do you get the money? You have rent to pay for your apartment, and that shabby office of yours too."
"I use my savings," Aron replied calmly. "I worked nearly two years as an intern at a law firm before this. Besides, even after going solo, I still get paid—even if I lose a case." He paused for a moment, then added with a thin smile, "And the apartment belongs to my aunt. I don't have to pay rent."
"Your aunt lives where?" Victoria asked.
"England."
"That far?"
"I'm not really from here," Aron said casually. "I'm English. I've lived here since the start of university."
Victoria suddenly stopped in her tracks.
"Wait."
Aron, a few steps ahead, immediately turned around, halting his pace.
"What is it, Victoria?"
"You said you're from England?"
"Yes."
"And your family too?"
Aron nodded calmly.
"Yes."
"Where in England?"
"That's a secret," Aron replied with a small chuckle.
But Victoria didn't share the reaction. Her face remained serious, her eyes fixed intently on Aron. He immediately noticed the shift in her demeanor.
"I'll tell you later," Aron coaxed in a lowered voice. "Let's finish this case first."
Victoria didn't respond. She simply resumed walking, letting out a small huff, leaving Aron momentarily behind before he caught up to her again.
***
Meanwhile, in the northern part of the Bronx, a black Ford Mustang tore through the empty streets. The engine roared as the car took a sharp left turn into a narrow alley wedged between two aging buildings. Its speed dropped immediately, as though the driver knew every inch of the route by heart.
Not far ahead, a massive iron gate along the side of a building slowly lifted—almost as if welcoming the car without the need for a signal. The Mustang turned in. Two large men stood guard outside the gate, watching with hardened expressions and sharp, alert eyes.
The car came to a complete stop.
Two men in black jackets stepped out of the Mustang. They exchanged brief nods with the men stationed around the area—a wide space cluttered with stripped car frames, dismantled engines, and the heavy stench of oil hanging thick in the air.
Without hesitation, the two men walked toward a large door reinforced with thick rubber lining and pushed it open.
Beyond it stretched an even larger interior. The space was crowded with heavily built men, each busy with different tasks—hauling metal, repairing engines, and speaking in low, guarded voices. The clang of steel and the hum of machinery filled the room, creating an atmosphere that was both brutal and meticulously organized.
The two men in black jackets moved straight ahead, their expressions grim, ignoring everything around them. They stopped at a metal staircase and immediately began climbing toward the upper level.
At the top, a door was pushed open.
Inside, two men of even greater build were already waiting. They stood rigidly before the entrance, faces vicious, eyes sharp—as though prepared for any confrontation.
"Where is Farkas?" one of the men in black asked.
There was no answer.
Moments later, the door behind the two guards opened. A dark‑skinned, powerfully built man stepped forward, his long hair hanging loose and unkempt. His presence alone was enough to weigh down the room.
"Well?" he asked, his voice low and heavy.
"Did you kill the man?"
"Not yet, Farkas."
Farkas stepped forward before sitting down in a chair.
"I understand," he said slowly. "It's not easy to kill someone in broad daylight. Especially inside a police station."
"It's not that we're incapable, Farkas," one of the men replied. "But Victoria was there."
In an instant, Farkas sprang up. His hands shot out, grabbing both men by the neck simultaneously. They were lifted off the floor, dangling like lifeless dolls.
"Watch your words," he snapped coldly. "I'm still the leader here."
"W-we're not lying, Farkas," stammered one of them, gasping for air. "W-we saw it with our own eyes."
Farkas released his grip. Both men fell to the floor, wheezing, hands clutching their throats.
"It's true, Farkas," the other added, still struggling to catch his breath. "We know Victoria's face. When we saw the man on the second floor, we went up immediately. But we never expected… she would be there."
Farkas narrowed his eyes.
"She saw you?"
"Yes," they said slowly. "She saw us, Farkas."
"That's impossible. Truly impossible," Farkas muttered as he paced back and forth, the heels of his boots striking the floor impatiently. "How could that woman appear in broad daylight? Why didn't you check? Or at least ask—has she returned to being human?"
"Huh?" Both men flinched.
"We didn't think that far, Farkas," one said in a low voice. "Just seeing her there was enough to take our courage away."
"Maybe it wasn't her," Farkas stopped pacing. "No… it can't be her. It just can't."
"That's not impossible."
A woman's voice rang from the far end of the room. Calm, measured, but loud enough to silence everyone.
"Even King Dracula himself can walk in the daylight."
"That's King Dracula," Farkas said roughly. "Not her."
"Victoria is the most trusted right-hand of King Dracula," the voice continued, undisturbed. "She was also the first human to be turned into a vampire using the king's own blood."
Farkas clenched his jaw.
"But why now?" he demanded. "Why is she able to roam in daylight now?"
"I don't know," the woman answered honestly. "You'll have to investigate it yourself. But take my advice—gather all your people. Leave this place. If Victoria has already seen those two men, she'll use that as justification to wipe you all out."
"Let her come," Farkas replied with a cold smile. "I'm not afraid. My kind and I—we are Lycans. We are ready to face her."
"If Victoria truly can survive in daylight," the woman's voice grew firmer, "then her power is no longer something you can challenge, Farkas. And if you insist on fighting her… you must be prepared to accept defeat."
***
"How?" Aron asked, stepping slightly closer to Victoria, his eyes occasionally flicking toward Detective Harper standing outside the room.
"She knows that man… there's a secret elevator," Victoria replied calmly, her gaze fixed on the metal table as she replayed the memories she had drawn from the corpse's blood.
"Then… we need to check it ourselves," Aron said, his tone filled with determination.
"Maybe it's better if we bring the woman along," Victoria suggested, nodding toward Harper outside, her eyes sharp.
"What am I supposed to say?" Aron asked, slightly confused.
"I don't know," Victoria answered tersely.
Aron ran a hand through his hair, glanced at Harper for a moment, then followed Victoria toward the door.
"So… what's the plan?" Harper's voice broke the silence, her arms folded across her chest as Aron and Victoria stepped out of the autopsy room.
"You're coming with us to that building," Aron said firmly.
"Sorry, I have too many other cases to handle," Harper replied shortly.
"We have Craig's permission," Aron added, "but we can't go without being accompanied by the detective handling the case."
"Why didn't you just bring Craig?" Harper snapped, her voice rising.
"Because he knows we're coming… and he also knows you're here," Aron replied calmly, his tone unwavering.
Harper gritted her teeth, her eyes sharp as she glared at Aron. "Hiss… fine, let's go."
"Yes," Aron whispered softly as Harper turned to lead the way.
"You're good at lying," Victoria murmured into Aron's ear, a small smile playing on her lips.
"That's why I became a lawyer," Aron grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
Victoria just shook her head, her lips curling into a smile that was impossible to read.