My Vampire Harem Will Dominate Everything - Chapter 73

A Statement Written in Blood
Due to the recent ceasefire with the Three Axe gang, Ezra had focused his efforts on the Red Orphans gang. There’s no way he’s spending the week waiting around for Macmillan. Besides, it’s Malachi’s gang.

Tonight, he had a specific target in mind. He walked into a dark bar, the air thick with smoke and the hum of low conversations. Dressed in his dark suit and overcoat, he wore his mask, the identifying mark of the boogeyman prominently displayed.

Ezra took a seat at the bar, his presence immediately drawing the attention of the barman. He ordered a drink, his voice low and steady. The barman’s eyes widened as he recognized the mask, his mouth opening to alert the gang members lounging around.

Ezra pinned him with a cold and penetrating stare that could be felt even with his eyes obscured from view by the dark lenses of the mask. Ezra subtly shook his head, silencing the barman. The barman got the message and quietly served the drink, placing it in front of Ezra without a word.

Ezra sat in silence, his drink untouched, waiting. He scanned the room, taking in the faces of the Red Orphan gang members scattered throughout the bar. The atmosphere was tense, the gang members conversing in quiet tones about the recent attacks on them.

The door opened, and a man entered. Finally. Known as Beard due to his full, well-maintained facial hair, he was a prominent figure in the Red Orphan gang. His entrance was marked by a chorus of praises from his hangers-on. His presence immediately changed the atmosphere in the room, turning it into a party.

“Get everyone a round in here, on me!” Beard proclaimed and the patrons cheered. He quickly settled at a table, ordering a bottle of an expensive drink. His followers sat with him and they hung on his every word as he started discussing recent events within the gang. Ezra listened intently, his ears picking up every sound of conversation.

“Leadership’s acting weird,” Beard said, his tone laced with suspicion. “They’re liquidating assets fast. No matter how I think of it, there’s only one thing it could be. They must be preparing for a big deal of some kind. Something to shoot us up to national levels, you know.”

Ezra almost snorted. That’s your owner bailing. He knows that whatever happens with us, Southside will be getting united under the new count.

“You think so?” One of the men by his side piped up. “I heard that Leadership’s moving from Southside to Eastside.”

“Nah.” Beard took a sip of his drink. “That’s just rumors.”

Hearing enough, Ezra sat up, his movements deliberate, and approached Beard’s table. As he neared, the men around Beard looked up, their expressions shifting from annoyance to alarm as they recognized the mask. “Hey! It’s the Boogeyman! The Nightmare!” one of them shouted, causing a ripple of shock and anger to spread through the bar.

The entire establishment, filled with Red Orphan gang members, turned their attention to Ezra. Everyone was on their feet in an instant. The atmosphere grew tense as weapons were drawn. Knives glinted in the dim light, and the cold, metallic click of firearms being readied echoed through the room.

Ezra took in the sight, his gaze sweeping over the assembled gang members. He stood tall, his stance unwavering despite the obvious threat. The bar was now a powder keg, waiting for a spark.

“I see.” He grunted, his voice dark and low. He had come here to make a statement. The Red Orphans needed to understand that their time was running out.

Ezra stood in the center of the bar, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The Red Orphans gang members glared at him, ready to attack. I can do this. All I have to do is not use any obvious supernatural ability and stick to human limits. Yeah. Easy peasy.

The first man lunged at him with a knife. Ezra sidestepped the attack, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting it sharply. The knife clattered to the floor as the man yelped in pain. Ezra followed up with a swift punch to the man’s jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Two more men charged him from either side. Ezra ducked under a wild swing from the one on his left, delivering a powerful kick to the man’s midsection that sent him crashing into a table. The second man swung a bottle at Ezra’s head, but he blocked the blow with his forearm and countered with an elbow to the man’s nose, breaking it with a sickening crunch.

Beard’s followers watched in stunned silence for a moment before they too joined the fray. Ezra moved with practiced ease, calling up the Blood Song to guide him. A man with a baseball bat aimed a strike at his ribs, but Ezra caught the bat mid-swing, yanked it from the man’s grasp, and used it to sweep his legs out from under him. Another thug tried to tackle him from behind, but Ezra spun and used the thug’s momentum against him, flipping him over his shoulder and onto the floor.

The remaining gang members hesitated, their confidence waning as they saw their comrades fall one by one. Ezra paused.

“If you won’t be coming to me, I’ll come to you.”

The gangbangers took a step back in fear. Ezra smirked before launching himself at the nearest one and delivering a flurry of punches that left the man dazed and disoriented. He grabbed a pool cue from a nearby table and used it to disarm another thug wielding a knife, then cracked it across the thug’s jaw, knocking him unconscious.

Within minutes, the bar was littered with groaning, incapacitated men. Ezra stood among them, barely winded. He scanned the room, making sure no one was left standing before turning his attention to Beard, who had been watching the fight, frozen, with wide eyes.

“Your turn,” Ezra said, grabbing Beard by the collar and dragging him outside. The cool night air hit them as they stumbled into a nearby alley.

Beard struggled weakly, but Ezra’s grip was strong. He didn’t need an audience for this. He shoved Beard against the brick wall and fixed him with a cold, unblinking stare. He deployed his Aura, layering it with different emotions designed to hypnotize humans ant make them suggestive.

Hope this works. He’d learnt this technique from Olivia.

“Listen to me, Beard,” Ezra said, his words sinking deep into the man’s mind. “You’re going to leave this city tonight. You’re going to take as much of the gang’s money as you can carry, and you’re never coming back. Do you understand?”

Beard’s eyes glazed over as the command took hold. He nodded slowly, his voice a dull monotone. “Yes, I understand.”

Ezra released his grip, watching as Beard staggered away, his mind filled with the irresistible compulsion to flee. He would wake in a few hours in a new location with a vague sense of urgency, but no clear memory of their encounter.

Ezra straightened his coat and adjusted his mask, feeling a sense of satisfaction. Take this, Malachi. I’ll destroy the Red Orphans even if it’s the last thing I do.

He didn’t always hold a grudge but when he did, the price had to be paid.