Married To Darkness-Chapter 376: To The Best Inn

"Your city?"

The leader’s smirk widened. "That’s right. You see, strangers who come here uninvited tend to have a rough time." He gestured to his men, who shifted slightly, ready to act. "But if you tell me what you’re here for—and make it worth my while—perhaps we can arrange for a safe stay."

Salviana sighed. "So this is a shakedown."

Lucius cracked his neck. "This is boring."

The leader’s smirk faltered slightly at Lucius’s tone. He looked between the two vampires and then at Alaric, noting his relaxed but unreadable posture.

Jean leaned toward Salviana and whispered, "Sal, Do they not realize we can kill them in under a minute?"

Salviana whispered back, "I don’t think this has gotten to that part Jeannie."

Alaric took a step forward, his smile as charming as ever, but his eyes glinted with something colder. "Listen," he said smoothly, "I’ve been to many cities, and I know how these little introductions work. You want a bribe, a show of submission, or perhaps a favor to prove we ’respect’ your authority."

The leader grinned. "Now you’re getting it."

Alaric tilted his head, then suddenly, in a flash too fast for human eyes, he moved.

One second, he was standing a few feet away. The next, he was right in front of the leader, gripping his throat—not tight enough to choke, but enough to make a point.

The leader’s smirk vanished, his body going rigid. His men instantly tensed, reaching for weapons—

Lucius disappeared from where he stood and reappeared behind the burly one, resting a casual yet threatening hand on his shoulder. "Don’t," Lucius murmured, voice deep and low.

The wiry man with the dagger hesitated, hand hovering over the hilt. But then Jean threw a knife before he could blink, lodging it into the wooden wall right next to his head.

"Try it," she challenged, her grin sharp.

The alley, once noisy, felt eerily silent. The market sounds in the distance became a distant hum as the realization sank in—they had picked the wrong people to mess with.

Alaric leaned in close, his voice low but laced with amusement. "I don’t take orders from street rats."

The leader gulped, struggling to maintain composure. "W-We... were just being cautious—"

Alaric released him with a light shove. "Consider your caution noted. Now, why don’t you and your friends disappear before I get really annoyed?"

The leader rubbed his throat, eyes darting to his men. Lucius was still behind the big one, and Jean was still watching the wiry one like a cat eyeing a mouse.

The leader swallowed his pride, then gave a forced chuckle. "Heh... Just a misunderstanding." He took a step back. "Welcome to Wyfhaven."

He turned on his heel and hurried off, his men scrambling after him.

Jean laughed, retrieving her knife. "That was fun."

Salviana dusted off her sleeves despite not having participate in the reversed shakedown. "Can we get food now?"

Alaric smirked at her. "Of course, my lady."

Lucius shook his head. "Humans are exhausting."

"Hey! I’m human too!" Salviana wailed dramatically, placing a hand over her chest.

Jean snorted. "Same here." She rolled her eyes before nudging Lucius. "You’re lucky we don’t throw hands for that."

Lucius smirked, unconcerned. "You’re both exceptions."

With the interruption handled, they resumed their walk—straight into the heart of Wyfhaven, where more dangers and secrets awaited them.

Salviana, ever the soft princess, beamed at Jean. "I think you’re really enjoying this whole thing. It’s bringing out your dangerous side."

Jean flipped her hair, mock-flattered. "Why, thank you. It’s about time someone appreciated my talents."

The group chuckled, their earlier tension melting away as they continued through the city. The cobbled streets were lively, bustling with merchants, travelers, and city folk going about their day. Seagulls cawed overhead, and the scent of salty sea air mixed with the aroma of roasted fish and fresh bread from nearby stalls.

But before they could get far, someone ran up to them.

A man—young, maybe in his mid-twenties, with curly brown hair and a nervous energy—hurried toward them. He was dressed in simple yet well-maintained clothes, and his eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on you all," he admitted breathlessly. "You’re new here, right?"

Alaric’s expression darkened slightly. "And?"

The man smiled, unfazed. "Let me take you to my inn. Best place in Wyfhaven—clean rooms, great food, and... well, a bit more privacy than most." His gaze flicked toward the street where the thugs had retreated. "You seem like people who might appreciate that."

Jean folded her arms, raising a brow. "And why exactly would you offer us that?"

The man chuckled. "Because I know trouble when I see it—and I have a feeling you’ll need somewhere... safe."

Lucius and Alaric exchanged a look. Suspicious? Absolutely. But avoiding more unwanted attention was in their best interest.

Salviana hesitated but eventually shrugged. "We were going to get an inn anyway."

Jean sighed, cracking her knuckles. "Alright, mystery man. Lead the way—but if this is a trap, I get to punch you first."

The man laughed, motioning for them to follow. "Fair deal. Come on, then. Welcome to Wyfhaven."

And with that, they followed him—deeper into the unknown.

Salviana leaned into Alaric, her head resting against his chest as his arms remained securely around her. It was a subtle gesture, but it spoke volumes. Love. Relief. Stress. Comfort. He held his precious wife close, and she sighed softly, smiling as he rubbed gentle circles on her back.

Lucius and Jean followed closely, neither fully trusting their guide but willing to go along—for now.

The young man led them through the winding streets of Wyfhaven, the scent of salt and fish growing stronger with each step. They were nearing the docks. The sea breeze carried a mixture of briny air and the aroma of freshly baked goods from a nearby market stall.

They loved the feel, despite its stark difference to Wyfellon; also, their way of dressing was different, they were more exposed here.