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My bravado enraged him. Lonzo dove at me again. This time I was ready and over this fight. I caught his arm mid-swing, using his momentum against him as I pivoted to slam him into a concrete pillar with enough force to crack it from floor to ceiling. Concrete dust rained down as Lonzo struggled in my grip, his newfound strength impressive but insufficient against my decades of experience as a vampire.

“Your problem, Lonzo.” I said while twisting his arm until bones fractured. “Is that you never learned when to stop.”

Lonzo jerked free of my grip with a desperate surge of strength, sending us both crashing into the elevators. Metal crumpled beneath our combined weight. I didn’t even realize we had moved so many parking spaces down the garage.

He fought with the raw power. Each of his blows left dents in the concrete walls when I dodged his fists, each impact shaking dust from the ceiling when I countered. But there was a distinctpattern to his attacks, a predictability born of human muscle memory that hadn’t fully adapted to vampire capabilities. And in that pattern, I found his weakness.

I allowed him to drive me backward, feigning difficulty as we smashed through a concrete pillar. The structure groaned ominously above us, but I paid it no mind. Lonzo’s confidence grew with each step I yielded. His fangs fully extended in a triumphant roar. He didn’t realize I was leading him exactly where I wanted him, away from Chanel and into a corner where his escape routes were limited.

“Not so tough now, are you?” He prematurely chanted, landing a blow to my jaw that would decapitate a human. I turned with the impact, minimizing the damage while making it appear more effective than it was. “Teresa was right. You’re old and weak.” He howled.

I caught Natasha’s eye across the garage and gave her a familiar look. She understood immediately, shifting her position to cut off the last potential exit route. From the corner of my vision, I saw my son moving Chanel further back. He positioned her safely behind a concrete barrier while maintaining her line of sight. Good. She deserved to witness this.

“Old, perhaps.” I replied, allowing a trickle of blood to run from the corner of my mouth. “But weak, never.”

I let Lonzo land another blow to my sternum. As he committed to the punch, overextending himself, I made my move. Decades of combat experience compressed into a single motion. I pivoted around his extended arm, gripping his shoulder with one hand, and drove my other hand directly into his chest.

The sound was unlike anything human ears could discern. There was the simultaneous ripping of skin, muscle, and bone as my fingers pierce through his ribcage with surgical precision. Lonzo’s eyes bulged. Pure shock replaced triumph as he realizedtoo late what was happening to him. The garage grew silent, seeming to pause in respect for the grotesque tableau I created.

“This,” I said, my voice quiet but carrying in the sudden stillness, “is the difference between us.”

My fingers closed around his heart. A strange organ in newer vampires. It was still beating but not pumping blood. This magical organ served instead as a reservoir for the power that animates our undead forms. We had yet to understand where it came from or how it worked.

Lonzo’s mouth opened, but no sound materialized. His body went rigid, every muscle locked in place by my direct contact with his vampire heart.

“Teresa never taught you about this, did she?” I continued conversationally, as if we were discussing the weather rather than me standing with my hand buried wrist-deep in his chest cavity.

With a single, brutal movement, I wrenched his heart from his chest. The organ pulsed in my hand, unnaturally bright against my blood-stained skin. Lonzo collapsed to his knees, his body still animated but paralyzed, unable to move while his artificial heart existed outside his body. His knees gave out, and he fell flat on his back. His eyes, however, remained conscious, horror and understanding dawning simultaneously as he stared up at his own beating heart.

I held it up for all to see. This was my trophy from vampire-on-vampire combat. This was the ultimate display of dominance. Blood dripped between my fingers, spattering on the concrete beneath us.

“You threatened what’s mine.” I told him. “You aligned yourself with my enemies. You must die.”

With deliberate slowness, I closed my fist around his heart. The mass struggled against my grip like a bird trying to escape a cage. Then, with one final squeeze, I crushed it. The organruptured between my fingers, its contents running down my arm in rivulets of dark, congealed blood. Lonzo’s body shuddered, a silent scream frozen on his face as the connection between his consciousness and his physical form began to degrade.

He isn’t dead, not yet. Vampire anatomy ensured he remained aware, even as his body failed him. His eyes followed me as I took a step back. He ogled with helpless rage mixed with a dash of fear as Natasha approached with a small metal container.

“The accelerant.” She announced, removing the cap. The pungent smell of chemicals filled the air as she methodically doused Lonzo’s lifeless form. My best soldier ensured every inch of him was covered with the flammable liquid. The substance mingled with the blood on his chest, creating a macabre painting across his frozen body.

I turned to Chanel, who had appeared from behind her protective barrier. Her face was composed. Her eyes fixed on Lonzo with an expression that contained no pity, no hesitation, only a cold hard stare that made my chest fill with pride.

“Zand.” She called to me. “I want to do it.”

Natasha paused, looking at me for direction.

“Let her.” I said to Natasha.

Natasha took two steps back and wiped her hands on a black bandana before reaching into her jacket pocket for a silver lighter.

“Ms. Taylor.” Natasha said formally, extending the lighter toward Chanel. “The honor is yours.”

Chanel walked over and took the lighter in her hands. She approached Lonzo’s body. When she stood over him, she paused, looking down into his terrified eyes. She broke her gaze at Lonzo to look over at Morgan and then back at her stalker.

“This is for Craig.” She simply stated. “For Morgan. For those three people I heard you kill back in Minnesota and for everywoman named Chanel Taylor who died because of your fucked up family.”

Her thumb flicked the lighter. The flame sprung to life with a soft click. She held it for a moment. The orange glow illuminated her face from below. Then, with a gesture as casual as lighting a cigarette, she dropped the lighter onto Lonzo’s fluid-soaked torso.

I moved with a quickness, grabbing Chanel around the waist and pulling her back as the flames erupted. The fire consumed Lonzo instantly. Blue-white flames climbed higher as they found fresh fuel in his clothes, his hair, his flesh. His eyes remained open and aware, as the fire melted the features of his face and turned him into more of a monster than he had been in human and vampire form.