My Husband Is a Million Years Old Vampire

At that moment Valentina’s legs felt like they weren’t hers anymore—like her knees might give way with every slow step she took. But she kept her back straight, her eyes low, her pace calm. No sudden movements, no panic.

Then She gave them a brief nod and a tired smile, muttering softly, "Just the restroom... I think I need a moment."

The men nodded in return, one of them standing halfway in mock concern. "Of course, please take your time, Miss Valentina. I hope everything is alright."

She didn’t answer.

Her fingers grazed the wall briefly as she walked, just enough to steady herself without making it obvious. Her vision was doubling for seconds at a time, her breathing slower than usual—heavy, like the air had turned into syrup.

When she reached the restroom, she shut the door behind her, locked it, then staggered to the sink.

She turned on the tap and splashed water on her face.

One. Two. Three times.

The coldness jolted her. But it didn’t stop the spinning in her head.

She looked up at the mirror. Her reflection blinked back slowly. Her pupils were slightly dilated. Her hands were trembling. Her heart was pounding, not with fear, but realization.

She had been drugged.

Her hands gripped the edges of the sink so tight her knuckles turned white. The sound of the sudden thud echoed against the tiled walls as her body buckled slightly, almost giving in. Her legs trembled. Her throat felt dry. Her heart beat faster, but her breath slowed—too slow. The water she had splashed earlier still dripped from her chin as she looked into the mirror, trying to convince herself it was just a wave of dizziness. But no... this was something else.

Her chest rose and fell unevenly, and her vision began to blur around the edges again. Then, it hit her like lightning—this wasn’t dizziness from stress or lack of sleep.

They spiked her coffee.

She gasped under her breath and whispered, "No..."

Her lips parted as her thoughts raced, trying to make sense of it. Maria... was this a setup? Did she really...?

Her heart sank deeper.

Everything about this meeting had felt off from the moment she stepped into that cheap coffee shop. The two men. The overly polite gestures. The way they all ordered the same drink. Damn it, she muttered silently. Why didn’t I listen to my instincts?

Her hand shakily reached into her coat pocket, fumbling for her phone. It nearly slipped from her grasp. She caught it. Opened the screen. Scrolled through her recent calls with panic written all over her face.

There was only one name she knew to call, One name her instincts screamed for.

She clicked Raymond.

Raymond picked the call on the third ring, still half lying on the bed with sleep in his voice.

"Valentina?" he said, stretching. "Why did you sneak out so early? You didn’t even wait for me to wake up—" but then he paused. Something wasn’t right.

On the other end, Valentina’s breath hitched before any words even came out.

"Ra... Ray..." her voice cracked, trembling. "Raymond..."

His body immediately sat up straight. "Valentina? What’s wrong?"

"I..." she stuttered. Her throat felt dry, her words staggered between sharp intakes of air. "I... I don’t know what... what’s going on..."

Raymond’s entire face darkened. "Valentina, where are you?"

"I... I think... I’ve been... drugged... I... I need you... please... come... or you... you might not recognize me..."

Her voice broke with the last word, as if her strength had finally reached its end.

Raymond’s eyes burned with fury. He didn’t need to hear more.

He was already off the bed, grabbing his car keys.

Raymond’s heart slammed against his chest as he leapt down the staircase, one hand holding his phone tightly to his ear, the other already opening the car door.

"Valentina! Where are you? Tell me—where are you?" he shouted, his voice shaking with panic.

But then, through the speaker, he didn’t hear her voice. What he heard instead was the violent pounding on a door. The noise startled him so much he paused mid-step, eyes narrowing.

"Valentina?" he called again.

A second later, there was a deafening bang—then a brief, muffled scream. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

"Valentina?!"

There was another sound, something sharp—like a slap. Then a thud.

And then... silence.

The line went dead.

Raymond’s entire face turned cold.

He stood frozen for a second. Then the screen in his hand cracked from the force of his grip.

Raymond’s face darkened, his entire expression shifting into something unrecognizable. There was no panic now—only cold, terrifying focus.

He jumped into the driver’s seat, slammed the door shut, and yanked out his phone with a single motion. His thumb flew across the screen.

The moment the call connected, he didn’t waste a second.

"Track her phone. Now," Raymond said, his voice low but sharp, each word like a blade. "My wife’s been taken."

The voice on the other end was silent for a moment. Then, "Send me the number."

Raymond’s jaw clenched. "You already have it. It’s the same number you tracked last time—when she was at the station."

The man’s voice stiffened. "On it."

Raymond didn’t wait for any more confirmations. He threw the phone to the passenger seat and stepped on the gas, his grip so tight on the wheel his knuckles turned white. His mind was already running calculations, imagining worst-case scenarios—every second ticking like a countdown.

He swore under his breath, eyes burning with rage.

Whoever touched her... whoever dared to lay a hand on Valentina... they weren’t going to make it out alive.

Raymond’s grip tightened around the steering wheel as he pulled up to a quiet intersection, his foot slamming on the brake harder than necessary. His eyes flicked to the phone screen again. Still no call.

His jaw clenched. His breathing was rough. Five minutes had passed.

He couldn’t afford five minutes.

He grabbed the phone again and dialed the same number. It barely rang before the guy picked up.

"You think this is a game?" Raymond’s voice was deep, calm—but dangerous. "Are you trying to test me? Because if I don’t get a location in the next sixty seconds, I swear—"

"Boss, I’m not playing," the man on the other end said quickly. "There’s interference. Her phone’s still pinging, but someone’s trying to jam the signal. They knew what they were doing. I’m still narrowing it down. I just need—"

"You need to stop giving me excuses," Raymond cut in coldly. "I gave you one job. One. Get me that location or I’ll come for you too. You hear me?"

He ended the call before the man could respond and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, his chest rising and falling with fury.

"If anything happens to her..." Raymond’s voice dropped into a chilling whisper, the kind that made grown men rethink their entire existence. "Even a scratch, a strand of hair out of place... I swear to you, I will wipe out everyone you’ve ever called family. Not just your parents. Not just your siblings. Everyone."

The silence on the other end was deafening. The man’s breath hitched slightly, and Raymond could hear the tremble in his voice before he spoke again.

"Boss, please, I—I swear I’m trying. I’ve never seen something like this before," the man stammered. "It’s like... like whoever did this knew how to ghost every signal. I can’t track her number. It’s like it doesn’t even exist anymore. No ping. No GPS. Nothing."

Raymond’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until the leather squeaked beneath his palm. His jaw locked. His expression didn’t change, but the rage burning behind his eyes was untamed.

"You have thirty minutes," he said, voice low and cold. "I don’t care what you do. Pull satellites. Burn towers. Hijack a signal. Find her."

"Y-yes, boss," the man responded, his tone filled with desperation now. "If they send a text—if she sends anything—I’ll get it. I just need something."

Raymond didn’t reply. He ended the call and tossed the phone aside again, his knuckles white as his mind raced with a thousand possible outcomes—none of which he was willing to accept.

But just as he reached for the gear, the screen lit up again.

It was Valentina’s number.

His heart froze. He grabbed it immediately, swiped the screen, "Valentina?"

But it wasn’t her voice.

A man’s voice came through, sharp and taunting. "Don’t even think of calling the police or anyone else."

Raymond’s eyes narrowed. "You bastard. Who the hell do you think you are, threatening me?"

The voice on the other end scoffed, cold and calm. "I should be asking you that. Who do you think you are? Let me make something clear, Mr. Raymond... if you as much as whisper a word to law enforcement, the next picture we’ll send won’t be of her smiling. It’ll be of her crying—naked, under us."

Raymond’s breathing stilled. His hand gripped the phone like he wanted to crush it.

"Keep quiet. Follow instructions. Or you’ll regret it," the voice added, then hung up before Raymond could respond.

Raymond sat still, jaw locked, fists shaking.

His phone vibrated again, this time, it was a text from his tracker.

Location sent.

The message read: "Got it. Sending it to you now."