Page 247 of Evil Hearts

Then suddenly, his face contorted, muscles rippling under his skin. His features twisted and stretched into a monstrous version of himself. His skin rippled and bulged as thick fur erupted from his cheeks, hands, and forearms. His noseelongated into a snout, resembling that of a fierce wolf. In his inhuman, wolf-like appearance, his body remained eerily human, a grotesque merge of man and beast. Fur covered most of his body. His muscles tensed and bulged under his skin, pulsing with unnatural strength.

Amelia’s stomach lurched, bile rising in her throat. She stumbled back, her legs trembling like jelly. The room seemed to shrink around her, the walls closing in as she watched Henry transform into a werewolf before her eyes. Her fingers dug into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks as she struggled to comprehend the horror unfolding before her.

“Henry, don’t do this!” Dimitri’s plea held a fusion of authority and desperation, but it fell on deaf ears.

How did it come to this?

With a ferocious snarl, Henry lunged at Dimitri, his fingers tightly gripping the sharpened stake aimed directly at Dimitri’s heart. Like a predator striking its prey, Dimitri gracefully sidestepped the attack and seized Henry’s wrist in a vice-like grip. The two clashed in a deadly battle, their bodies moving with a fervent potency that sent them careening into an antique dresser, splintering wood and scattering ornate trinkets across the floor.

Desperation clawed at Amelia’s throat. She felt powerless.

“Stop! Please, stop!” Amelia cried out.

But neither man—nor creature—paid her any attention. They exchanged fatal blows, each punch reverberating through the room like thunder.

“Amelia, get out!” Dimitri shouted, his voice strained as he grappled with the werewolf.

“Not without you!” Tears streamed down her face, her vision blurred by panic.

The thought of losing him was unbearable. She’d spent so long yearning for someone who saw beyond the polished veneer ofher high-society life. And now that she had found him—this sexy vampire who made her feel alive in ways she’d never known—could she really lose him to this lunacy?

Would she ever find peace if he was gone? Or would she be forever haunted by what could have been?

Amelia clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as if the pain could anchor her to reality. She had to do something—anything—to stop this horror from unfolding further.

But what could she do against creatures of such power? Her helplessness gnawed at her soul, each second stretching into an eternity of dread and despair.

Henry swung the stake again, narrowly missing Dimitri’s throat. Dimitri retaliated with a punch that sent Henry sprawling into the wall, cracking the plaster. Paintings tumbled down, frames snapping under the impact.

The crazed, evil werewolf roared, a guttural sound that bounced off the walls, and he slashed at Dimitri with clawed hands. Dimitri dodged, but not quickly enough. The stake plunged into his shoulder, just missing his heart. Dimitri staggered, blood soaking his shirt, but he didn’t falter.

Gritting his teeth against the severe pain, Dimitri lunged forward and grabbed Henry’s wrist, twisting until bones cracked. Henry howled in agony. Dimitri tore the stake from his flesh. The stake clattered to the floor.

Amelia watched in horror, frozen by the unfolding violence. This couldn’t be happening. Dimitri’s trusted butler trying to kill him. She had to do something, but what? Intervening could get her killed.

Dimitri slammed the werewolf against the wall, his face a mask of feral rage. “You dare betray me? After all these years?” His fingers tightened around Henry’s throat, choking off his air.

Henry clawed at Dimitri’s hands, his eyes bulging. “I...deserve...immortality...not her,” he rasped out. “You’re...an asshole...”

The scene before her felt surreal, like a twisted nightmare she couldn’t wake from. How had it come to this? The man she thought she knew, the butler who had served Dimitri with an air of cold detachment, now revealed as a monster driven by envy and rage.

“Halt this insanity!” The scream tore from Amelia’s throat before she could stop it. Both men’s heads swiveled toward her, expressions shocked. She swallowed hard, heart pounding. “Please, stop this madness! I can’t bear to see you hurt each other!”

Dimitri’s grip loosened fractionally, indecision flickering across his stony features. Henry took advantage of the momentary distraction to headbutt him viciously. Dimitri reeled back, blood streaming from his nose.

A sickening dread settled in Amelia’s stomach. This was more than a fight for survival; it was a clash of broken souls, each haunted by their own demons.

Snarling, the bloodthirsty werewolf snatched up the stake and advanced on Dimitri, murder in his stare. “I’ll end you, demon. I’ll send you back to hell where you belong!”

“NO!” Amelia’s scream was raw, primal, filled with anguish.

With supernatural strength, Dimitri seized Henry by the neck, lifting him off the ground. Henry thrashed, clawing at Dimitri’s arms, but Dimitri’s grip was unyielding. With a final, brutal twist, Dimitri snapped Henry’s neck. The werewolf’s body went limp, a lifeless heap crumpling to the floor.

Silence fell, broken only by Amelia’s sobs. She sank to her knees, staring at Henry’s body. There was no relief in seeing him defeated—only a hollow ache that gnawed at her insides.

Dimitri knelt beside her, his hand gentle on her shoulder. “Amelia, do not trouble yourself, my beloved.” His expression was soft, pained. “I will take care of this.”

Could she ever truly understand the world Dimitri came from?

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