Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 265: How the Mighty Have Fallen

Thorin and Puck stepped into the inn and headed toward the dining room, which was packed with loud, drunken patrons. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and stale ale, and the drunken chatter rose to an almost deafening roar.

Perhaps that was exactly why Uncle Warren had chosen this place—to discuss the villain who had annihilated the Zacharia family in a setting where no one would be sober enough to care.

The room was packed with chatter and the clinking of mugs, but Warren Zacharia was impossible to miss.

Thorin couldn’t help but imagine what this scene would’ve looked like before the fall of the Zacharia family. Aunt Nina would have rented out the entire inn—no, scratch that—she would’ve bought the place outright.

There would be no chance for unwanted guests, and certainly no chance for anyone to overhear anything.

Guards, built like walls of muscle, would be stationed at every entrance and exit, and probably the roof too, just to add a touch of paranoia.

The dining room would’ve been cleared of all tables and chairs, naturally, because why should anyone else have a seat when Aunt Nina clearly needed a throne?

There’d be one chair, one chair only, and she’d be sitting in it, legs crossed, smug expression firmly in place, as if waiting for the curtain to rise on her one-woman show.

But now? Now, Uncle Warren was the complete opposite of the Zacharias Thorin had grown up with. Gone was the family’s flair for the dramatic, their love of making an entrance. In their place was a tired, cloaked figure, head hunched low like he was trying to avoid being recognized.

Uncle Warren stood out like a sore thumb. Thorin turned to Puck as if he needed someone else to confirm that yes, this was really the man who had once ruled their family’s empire with his other siblings.

Puck gave him a brief nod, confirming the impossibility, and Thorin sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he was about to sit across from the same man who used to be so powerful.

Taking a deep breath, Thorin slid into the seat across from the cloaked figure, with Puck following in tow like his loyal sidekick in this uncomfortable charade.

Thorin quickly scanned the room, doing a double-take to ensure he hadn’t misidentified the man. The boy had vanished—perfect.

"Uncle Warren?" Thorin ventured, though his voice had a hint of skepticism like he might be greeting a particularly convincing illusion.

The cloaked figure raised a tanned hand, slowly and dramatically, to grab a mug. His arm was oddly muscular for someone who hadn’t seen a decent meal in ages.

After a long gulp—more like a desperate chug—he returned the mug with a satisfying thud. Then, with all the dignity of a man whose best days were a distant memory, he lifted his chin as if expecting a standing ovation.

Thorin’s gaze lingered on the face that emerged from under the hood. He blinked. His uncle, once a towering figure of wealth and power, so thin it was like his face had been drawn on with a pencil. His cheeks were hollow and his eyes sunken.

For a man who once dripped in wealth and luxury, sitting in a dingy commoner’s inn must have been a tragic fall from grace. Thorin almost felt bad for him.

He pulled back his hood, revealing his face to the room, which was an unexpected move considering he was supposed to be in hiding. Thorin raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you were running from someone?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"They’re all drunk," Uncle Warren said. "They won’t remember a thing from tonight."

Thorin shot him a skeptical look.

Uncle Warren simply shrugged. "I paid for several rounds of ale already—just to make sure."

Ah, yes, the tried and true get your witnesses too drunk to testify technique. Thorin had to admit, it seemed Warren had picked up a thing or two from Aunt Nina’s ’chaos management’ classes.

Noticing the skeptical expression on Thorin’s face, Uncle Warren gave a lopsided grin. "I did a great job, didn’t I? Considering I’ve always been the black sheep of the family."

Well, technically he wasn’t exactly the black sheep. But to Aunt Nina, Uncle Warren had always ranked somewhere just below the family dog.

Daciana was her shining star, the golden child she treated like royalty, while Uncle Warren was the one she tolerated only because, well, family.

Aunt Nina’s view of family hierarchy was entirely based on skill—so it was no surprise Uncle Warren ranked somewhere near the bottom.

But, sure, black sheep—whatever helps you sleep at night, Uncle.

After suffering through the obligatory How have you been? and other meaningless pleasantries—blah, blah, blah—Uncle Warren finally got to the part that actually mattered.

"Someone came to the castle. Our mortal enemy. A vampire." He leaned in, voice low and grave. Then, with a look of utter disgust, he added, "I told Nina not to trust him, but she was infatuated with him. I still don’t understand what was so special about him."

Oh, Aunt Nina. The woman could sniff out a conspiracy from a mile away but apparently couldn’t detect a red flag even if it was on fire and waving in her face.

She had always kept things to herself, especially when they actually mattered. In her mind, most people—yes, even her own family—were simply not worth trusting.

That’s why she worked alone. She schemed alone, she made her power plays alone, and when it was all said and done, she enjoyed the spoils of her victories... alone.

Well, mostly alone. The rest of the family certainly reaped the benefits—an extravagant castle, feasts that could feed a kingdom, and wardrobes tailored from the finest silks. But did anyone actually know what Aunt Nina was up to? Not a chance.

And, as it turned out, none of them had any idea just how much danger she had personally invited through their front door. fгeewebnovёl.com

"I don’t know what she was up to or who she was dealing with. Nobody did," Uncle Warren said, shaking his head. "Even when that vampire strolled into the castle like he owned the place, we were all too busy cleaning up, tending to the wounded, and, you know—disposing of dead bodies—" He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as if the memory had just slapped him across the face.

"He went in to talk with Nina," Warren continued, lowering his voice. "And I... may have overheard their conversation."

Thorin narrowed his eyes. "So let me get this straight—you survived not because you were heroically searching for a physician?"

"And you were actually spying on your sister’s secret meeting with some mysterious vampire," Puck added, smirking. "And yet, despite practically breathing down their necks, you somehow didn’t end up dead?"

Uncle Warren hesitated, glancing between them before looking away, suddenly very interested in the scratches on the wooden table. "You don’t understand," he muttered.

"I hate conflict. Always have. It’s just... not in my blood to fight to the death. I figured Nina would win—like always. Step on a few bugs, clean up the mess, and come out on top." He sighed. "But that vampire emperor was tougher than I thought."

Thorin blinked. "Wait. Vampire emperor? Are you saying this mystery bloodsucker was Emperor Kaan?"