Chapter 429: Chapter 429 Setting House On Fire

The moment Irina saw the shadow rush past her, instinct took over.

Her claws burst free in a sharp flash, bones shifting under skin as she pivoted on her heel and struck without hesitation. She put her full weight behind it, power rolling through her shoulder and down her arm as her claws slammed into the thing’s chest.

The impact was brutal.

The shadow that had attacked Liam let out a blood-curling scream, raw and inhuman, as his body was sent flying backward. He crashed into the bathroom wall with enough force to shatter tiles and split plaster, the sound echoing through the house like an explosion. The wall gave way, chunks breaking loose as his body punched through it before dropping heavily to the floor.

He slid down slowly, leaving a dark smear behind him, then went completely still.

Unconscious.

At almost the same time, Liam forced himself upright with a sharp inhale. Pain flared across his neck and chest, hot and angry. He reached up instinctively, fingers coming away wet.

Blood.

He looked down at his chest. His shirt was shredded, torn open where claws had raked through fabric and flesh alike. The cuts burned, but they were already beginning to close, the sting fading into a dull ache.

Irina turned to him immediately. “Are you okay?”

Liam didn’t answer.

His eyes were locked on the body slumped against the broken wall.

He stepped forward despite the smell, despite the rot and death filling the air from the bathtub behind him. The stench was overwhelming now, clinging to his skin, crawling into his lungs, but he pushed through it anyway.

He studied the unconscious figure with narrowed eyes.

Fast.

That was the word that kept repeating in his head.

The attack had been so fast he barely saw it. No warning. No sound. Just motion and pain. Even with everything he had faced, even with everything he was capable of, he had not seen that claw coming.

Irina moved closer too, her steps slowing as recognition crept across her face. Her eyes widened little by little, disbelief giving way to certainty.

Then she spoke, her voice low but sharp with shock.

“It’s really him,” she said. “I was right. It’s Leonid.”

Liam didn’t stop.

He took another step closer, his jaw tightening as his hand curled into a fist.

“What are you doing, Liam?” Irina called out, her tone shifting instantly.

He didn’t even look at her.

“Killing him off,” Liam said flatly, his right hand lifting slightly.

“Liam, stop!”

Irina moved fast, grabbing his wrist with both hands before he could take another step. Her grip was firm, claws digging just enough to make her point.

“You can’t kill him,” she said. “We need him.”

Liam finally turned his head and looked at her.

The look on his face wasn’t anger. It was confusion, sharp and genuine. He really did not understand what she was saying.

“We need him?” he repeated slowly. “He murdered dozens of innocent people. Look around you.”

He gestured toward the bathtub with a sharp movement of his chin. The bodies. The blood. The torn flesh.

“If I were a normal human,” Liam continued, his voice hardening, “I would be dead too. So what do you mean spare him?”

Irina stepped forward, putting herself directly between Liam and the unconscious Leonid. She stood her ground, shoulders squared, eyes locked on Liam’s.

“He’s the first,” she said firmly. “The first human-born vampire in a very long time. Something that shouldn’t even be possible.”

She took a breath, steadying herself.

“If we want to win this war,” Irina went on, “we need him. We need to understand what happened to him. How it happened. Why it happened.”

Liam stared at her in silence.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the distant drip of blood hitting tile and the low hum of the city outside the broken walls.

He looked down at Leonid again.

The man was a mess. Clothes torn. Skin pale. Dried blood caked around his mouth and hands. Whatever he had become, it was clear he had no control over it yet. No discipline. No restraint.

A fledgling in the most dangerous sense.

Liam’s hand trembled slightly, still clenched, power coiled tight beneath his skin. It would be easy. One strike. One decision. End it here.

Slowly, he exhaled.

His fist loosened.

He pulled his hand free from Irina’s grip and let it drop to his side.

“You better keep him in check when he wakes up,” Liam said quietly, his voice cold and final. “Or else I’ll show him no pity.”

Irina nodded once, her expression serious. She understood the weight of that promise.

Liam withdrew completely.

It was not dramatic. No sharp movement. No glare. He simply stepped back, creating distance between himself, Irina, and the broken body on the floor. Whatever fire had been burning in him a moment ago was gone now, sealed away behind that calm mask he always wore when he decided something was no longer worth emotional energy.

He looked around the ruined bathroom once more, then turned to Irina.

“So,” he said quietly, “what do you want to do with the house?”

Irina did not hesitate.

“I’ll burn it.”

Simple. Clean. Final.

She crouched down first, gripping Leonid under the arms. Even unconscious, his body was heavy, awkward, limbs loose in a way that made it clear he had no control over himself. She hauled him up with practiced ease and dragged him out of the bathroom, through the hallway, and out the front door.

Cold air hit them both as she reached her car.

Irina opened the boot and threw Leonid inside without ceremony. His body landed with a dull thud, one arm hanging awkwardly before she shoved it in and slammed the trunk shut.

She turned back toward the house.

Liam had already done his part.

While she was gone, he had walked through every room calmly, efficiently. He twisted valves. Opened pipes. Left doors ajar. The faint hiss of gas filled the house slowly, invisibly, seeping into furniture, walls, memories. It smelled faintly metallic, sharp enough to sting the nose if you paid attention.

Irina stepped back inside, lighter already in her hand.

She glanced at Liam once, just to be sure.

He gave a single nod.

She flicked the lighter, the small flame dancing to life, and set it gently on the table in the living room as if she were leaving something behind on purpose.

“Let’s go,” she said.

They didn’t rush.

They walked out together, closing the door behind them carefully, like people leaving a place they would never return to. Irina got into the driver’s seat, Liam into the passenger side, and she started the car immediately, pulling away from the curb without looking back.

They drove for a few seconds in silence.

Then Liam glanced over his shoulder through the rear window and said casually, “It should be about now.”

The moment he stopped speaking…

BOOOOOM!

The blast ripped through the house behind them, a violent roar that shook the street. Windows shattered outward in a spray of glass. Flames punched through the roof as the structure caved in on itself, fire rolling into the sky. The shockwave rattled nearby homes, alarms screaming to life all at once.

Irina didn’t flinch.

Neither did Liam.

He leaned back into his seat properly now, adjusting himself as if settling in for a long drive, his eyes forward, expression completely calm.

They kept driving.

No music. No words. Just the sound of the road under the tires and the city slowly swallowing the noise behind them.

Minutes passed.

Then Liam spoke.

“Stop.”

Irina frowned slightly. “What?”

“Just stop,” he repeated.

She slowed and pulled over anyway, even though she didn’t understand why. The car rolled to a halt near a small row of shops, lights still on, people moving in and out like the world wasn’t on the brink of tearing itself apart.

Liam opened the door and stepped out.

Irina leaned across the seat and looked at him. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll meet you back at your place,” Liam said.

She laughed softly. “You don’t even know where I live.”

He shut the door halfway, leaned back in, and said, “Just text it to me or something.”

Then he closed the door completely and walked off.

Irina stared after him for a second, then shook her head with a quiet chuckle. “Unbelievable.”

Only then did it click.

She glanced at his torn shirt in her memory. The claw marks. The shredded fabric.

“Of course,” she muttered to herself, smacking her forehead lightly. “Clothes.”

Liam walked toward a clothing store just ahead, its bright windows glowing against the dull street. He didn’t look injured anymore. His neck was clean. His chest smooth beneath the torn fabric. Not a trace of wound left, only streaks of blood.

As if Leonid’s claws had never touched him at all.

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