The city buzzed with its usual false calm — traffic snarled on glistening streets, businessmen barked into cell phones, vendors hawked roasted chestnuts on the corners. Above it all, Alaric moved like a shadow, unseen, unnoticed.
The first name on Balen's list was Vin Drake — once a minor enforcer for one of the old Vane-aligned families, now running a security firm in the industrial sector. On paper, he was clean. Private contracts, bodyguard work, VIP protection. But beneath the surface, rumors spoke of his loyalty to traditions long forgotten, and a quiet reverence for the old ways.
Balen had warned him: Drake wouldn't bend easily.And Alaric didn't want him to.
He needed men who chose loyalty, not men who feared him.
By late afternoon, Alaric arrived at the outskirts of the industrial block — a tangle of warehouses, barbed wire fences, and trucks belching smoke into the gray sky. Drake Security Solutions occupied a squat brick building surrounded by high fencing and surveillance cameras. Not welcoming.
Good.
Alaric slipped through the perimeter easily enough. His breath techniques, still raw but growing sharper by the day, masked the sounds of his approach. His footsteps melted into the hum of machinery and the distant clatter of loading docks.
Inside the building, men moved with the ease of trained fighters. They wore security uniforms, but their eyes were sharp, their movements coordinated. Not rent-a-cops. Soldiers.
At the center of it all stood Vin Drake.
Broad-shouldered, salt-and-pepper hair, arms folded across a chest thick with muscle built from a life of fighting. A jagged scar ran from his temple down across his cheekbone — a mark of old wars.
Alaric stepped into view deliberately.
The reaction was immediate. Guns drawn, men snapping into formation. Vin's eyes narrowed, hand dropping instinctively toward his belt.
"Who the hell are you?" Vin barked.
Alaric said nothing. He reached into his jacket slowly — careful not to provoke them — and drew out the Vane pendant. He held it up, letting it catch the dim overhead lights.
The effect was instantaneous.
The older men — the ones who still remembered — stiffened. A ripple of something like fear, like awe, passed through the room.
Vin didn't flinch. But he didn't attack either.
Instead, he stepped forward until they stood almost nose-to-nose.
"You wear that," Vin said, voice low and dangerous, "you better be ready to prove you deserve it."
Alaric met his gaze steadily. "Test me."
The room shifted. The men spread out, forming a rough circle around them, as if sensing the confrontation to come.
Vin struck first — a blur of motion, a straight punch meant to crack ribs.
Alaric moved instinctively, parrying the strike with a twist of his forearm and stepping inside Vin's reach. He delivered a sharp, clean blow to Vin's side — not enough to injure, but enough to stagger.
Vin recovered fast, grinning like a wolf. No more talk. No more caution.
The fight exploded — quick, brutal, efficient.
Vin fought like a brawler trained in the art of survival, each move practical and deadly. Alaric flowed like water — his Vane instincts guiding his steps, his body remembering the forgotten forms that had been sleeping within him.
Strike. Sidestep. Counter.
They clashed again and again, until finally Alaric caught Vin's wrist mid-swing, twisted, and dropped him to one knee without ever raising his voice or breaking a sweat.
For a long second, Vin stayed there, breathing hard.
Then he looked up and laughed — a deep, genuine laugh that shook his massive shoulders.
"I'll be damned," Vin said, shaking his head. "You are Vane blood."
He rose, brushing off his knees. Then, without hesitation, he knelt properly this time — one knee to the ground, fist over his heart.
"From this day, I'm yours," Vin said. "Not because of your name. But because you've earned it."
Around the circle, the other men lowered their weapons, their postures relaxing into something different — something closer to reverence.
Alaric nodded once, accepting the oath without unnecessary words.
One by one, the first pillars of his new world were being laid.
And as the storm gathered beyond the city skyline, Alaric Vane quietly began to build a foundation strong enough to withstand it.
They would come for him.
He was counting on it.