Chapter 197: Midnight Theft V
---
"Yes, young master." They responded in a perfect tone.
"Kill anyone who barks."
Dickon’s face twisted.
"You did this," he spat. "You put that statue and that message."
Sekhmet’s voice came out even and quiet.
"Of course," he replied. "I did it. Who do you think did it? Your father?"
Dickon’s eyes bulged with anger.
"You think you are funny and clever," Dickon hissed. "You think you can mock Iron House and survive."
Sekhmet tilted his head slightly.
"Clever," he repeated, as if tasting the word. Then he spoke again, voice calm, almost conversational.
"I did not mock Iron House," Sekhmet said. "I prepared for it."
Dickon’s grip on Reyan tightened again.
Reyan wheezed.
"You told him," Dickon snarled at Reyan. "You told him we were coming!"
Reyan shook his head violently, tears starting.
"No! I swear! I swear I didn’t—"
Sekhmet interrupted, voice flat.
"Reyan did not tell me," he said.
Dickon blinked. For a split second, confusion cut through his rage.
Sekhmet continued, eyes cold.
"I did not need him to tell me," he said. "Because dogs always come when they smell bones."
The words landed hard. The corridor went still.
Even Reyan stopped struggling for a heartbeat, because he understood what Sekhmet had just called him.
Dickon’s face turned darker.
"What did you say," he growled.
Sekhmet took a slow step forward. His shoes made a soft sound on the stone.
It was the sound of Tap...
"I said," Sekhmet repeated, "dogs come when they smell bones. That is why I did not put the ten items in this vault. I knew the moment I announced an auction, someone would try to steal the items. And I knew the moment the proof existed, a traitor would wag his tail for money to his master."
Sekhmet continued, "Look at my luck. I found both."
Reyan’s eyes squeezed shut, shame and fear colliding.
Dickon’s voice cracked with rage.
"You are lying," he hissed. "You are bluffing! You don’t have anything!"
Sekhmet’s lips curved faintly again. He leaned slightly closer, voice still calm.
"If I had nothing," Sekhmet said, "you would not be here with fifty men at midnight."
Dickon froze for half a second. Then he snapped.
"You mother f*ck...!"
He shoved Reyan aside violently like discarded trash. "Move."
Dickon stepped forward, pointing at Sekhmet like he could stab with his finger.
"You think your stupid finger statue scares me," Dickon shouted. "You think this prank makes you a king."
Sekhmet’s gaze did not move from Dickon’s face.
"A prank...," Sekhmet repeated. Then his tone lowered, sharper now, more cutting.
"This is not a prank," he said. "This is me confirming something I already knew."
Dickon spat. "And what is that?"
Sekhmet answered simply.
"That you are predictable," he said. "That Iron House is predictable. That traitors are predictable. And that when hungry men think they can steal, they always bring too many bodies because they are afraid of the one man they are trying to rob."
Dickon’s chest heaved. His humiliation was visible now. Not because the corridor was watching him.
Because his own men were watching him. They had come expecting victory. They were standing inside a trap.
And their young master was yelling like a child who had been slapped in public.
Sekhmet’s eyes flicked once over the fifty men. Then back to Dickon.
"One more thing," Sekhmet said softly.
Dickon’s voice came out rough. "What!!!"
Sekhmet nodded toward the empty vault.
"That message wasn’t for you," he said. "It was for whoever wants to rob me. You are that stupid, who got it."
Reyan flinched as if he had been hit.
Dickon’s head snapped toward Reyan again. Then back to Sekhmet, rage trembling in his pupils.
"You will die," Dickon hissed.
Sekhmet’s voice stayed calm.
"Probably, one day" he replied. "But not tonight."
Dickon’s mouth opened...
And Sekhmet looked at his side, he looked at Vera and Vela.
Their eyes were bright in the darkness. They looked not wild but focused.
They had been born into this world twice now — once as desperate heirs, once as true vampires.
Sekhmet’s voice stayed calm.
"Vera. Vela. Take the right Rank Three," he said. "Hold him. Do not let him reach the stairs."
"Yes, master," Vera replied.
"Yes," Vela echoed, her voice sharper.
Sekhmet’s gaze shifted to the communicating stone in his palm. It was already buzzing. Raka is here.
He did not waste words.
"Raka. Now," he said.
There was no question. No confirmation request. Only immediate obedience.
"Master," Raka answered.
"Your target is the other Rank Three," Sekhmet said. "Containment first. Kill only if necessary. Seal exits."
"Yes, master," Raka replied instantly. "I am in the outer room. Moving."
Sekhmet closed the stone and glanced toward Auri’s position in the upper arch. She was still hidden, still watching, still waiting for the moment he gave her permission to move. He tilted his head slightly.
Auri understood without words. Her wings shifted under her cloak. Her eyes hardened.
Sekhmet spoke softly.
"Auri. Bring Reyan to me," he said. "Alive!"
Auri’s jaw tightened like a blade being drawn.
"Yes, master," she replied.
Sekhmet exhaled once. Then he moved. He did not leap into the fight like a hero.
The first Rank One who turned saw him too late. His mouth opened. No sound came out.
Sekhmet’s hand struck his throat with a Thud sound.
The man fell back like his strings had been cut. The corridor erupted. Not into shouting. Into sudden motion.
Another shouted, "Look behind!"
"He is behind you!"
A Rank Two fighter spun first, he was fast, he was trained, not frozen by confusion like the weaker men.
The fighter’s blade came up in a clean diagonal slash meant to remove Sekhmet’s head.
Sekhmet ducked, the steel passing above his hair by a finger’s width. He answered with blood. He pulled blood from the rank one he just attacked.
Blood threads shot from his palm like red wires, not thick ropes, not clumsy strands. They wrapped the blade wrist and jerked.