NOVEL NEXT Chapter 13: Chapter 13
James got up like nothing happened—because clearly, nothing had happened.
Except for the part where he got hurled across the room like an unwanted sock.
Minor detail.
He wobbled for a second, but this time, there was no lunatic grin, no theatrics. Just a wary, calculating look, like a cornered animal. And maybe he was one, considering that his grand escape plan last time had ended with him running in circles like a malfunctioning GPS.
His gaze flickered to Bella for just a second—so fast that if Raizel had been anyone else, he might have missed it.
Ah.
Smart.
Not completely dumb.
Still incredibly dumb, though, because Raizel already saw through him. The idiot just didn't know who he was dealing with.
Feeling indulgent, Raizel decided to play along. He casually strolled over to the TV—still playing the recorded video of Bella's mom calling her name—like he had all the time in the world.
"Bella," he mused, his tone light, conversational. "Do you still suck at dance?"
Bella stiffened, her brain short-circuiting. Excuse me—what?!
What did that have to do with anything?!
Before she could process or respond —James lunged.
At her.
Bella's eyes widened in horror, her body freezing—
And then James' vision froze.
Because in the next instant, everything tilted.
Which was weird. Because floors aren't supposed to tilt.
Oh.
Oh, wait.
That wasn't the floor.
That was his own head, rolling across it.
James had precisely one second to process this. To stare at his now headless body still standing there before it crumpled lifelessly.
Then he saw Raizel.
Standing there.
Beside his decapitated body.
Looking down at him.
Smiling.
James, for the first time in his entire immortal existence, felt fear.
Bella, meanwhile, had definitely just stopped breathing for a solid five seconds.
She took a slow, horrified step back, her brain desperately trying to compute what just happened.
She wasn't sure what was worse—the fact that James had just gotten insta-killed, or the fact that the only thing stopping her from running was the very real concern that Raizel might decide she was next.
After all, the guy did just yeet a powerful vampire around like a ragdoll.
And now, James' severed head was looking at her like he was the victim here.
Which, in all fairness…
He kind of was.
But Bella had bigger problems now.
Like the fact that the Cullens finally decided to show up.
Through the front door, like civilized people.
Carlisle entered first, radiating that classic doctor-dad energy, but it was obvious they'd met Frankenstein outside and knew what was up.
With effortless grace, the Cullens bowed in unison and greeted,
"Lord."
…
Lord.
Well, most of them, anyway.
Edward, as expected, looked less than enthusiastic about it.
Who cared, though?
Raizel certainly didn't. He barely even spared them a glance, already turning his focus back to Bella.
The Cullens followed his gaze, Edward immediately trying to step forward—only for Esme to put a hand in front of him, stopping him cold.
Good.
At least Esme had the common sense to realize the person standing in front of them wasn't just someone you approached like a concerned PTA mom.
That's the charm of power and background.
Raizel liked it.
Bella, meanwhile, was trying to process the whiplash of emotions. She saw the Cullens staring at her with a mix of worry, caution, and something unreadable.
Except for Raizel.
Raizel was just thinking.
Not about her well-being.
No, probably something worse.
Then, finally, he turned to Carlisle.
"You're lucky I was here," Raizel stated coolly. "Because they would have come instead."
Carlisle stiffened.
Raizel hadn't said their name.
Didn't need to.
Carlisle already knew.
The Volturi.
Raizel's gaze swept over the Cullens, his expression unreadable. "It's not too late," he said, voice calm. "I could erase her memory."
Carlisle looked at Edward.
Edward looked at Bella.
Bella, who—let's be real—should have immediately said hell no, hesitated.
Raizel took that as an answer.
"Guess you've made your choice."
And then, without another word—
He vanished into the night.
Outside
Frankenstein had been waiting.
The moment Raizel stepped out, he wordlessly opened the car door, because at this point, it was muscle memory.
Raizel slid in. Frankenstein shut the door.
A moment of silence. The car hummed softly.
Then, Raizel, resting his chin on one hand, casually remarked,
"Europe, then."
Frankenstein nodded like this was the most normal thing in the world.
"Yes, Master."
Raizel's lips curled slightly.
Things are getting interesting.
------------
Central Europe, Hungary
Ah, Hungary. Land of rich history, beautiful architecture, and—at this very moment—some very unfortunate security personnel.
From the shadows, a tall figure emerged, his every step exuding an aura of absolute arrogance. A second figure followed close behind, his posture relaxed, almost casual—like they were just here for a leisurely midnight stroll.
They were not.
As expected, the guards readied into action, because that was their job. They had one task: stop intruders.
Poor guys never stood a chance.
The moment they locked eyes with the approaching figure, their minds went blank. Error 404: Thought Process Not Found.
One of them twitched, reconsidering what just was he doing here? Was there even anyone there just now? Maybe he was just imagining things. Yes. That sounded reasonable.
Meanwhile, security cameras—the real MVPs—tracked the figures, actually doing their job without falling into some mind-control toying. Their reward?
Alarms.
Loud ones.
The facility immediately went into lockdown, sealing every possible exit.
And yet, neither of the two intruders seemed to care.
In fact, the leisure one—Raizel—looked mildly inconvenienced at best.
A squad of armed guards rushed in, weapons raised.
"Don't move!" one of them barked. "Stay there!"
Raizel did not stay there.
He didn't move fast, didn't teleport, didn't so much as break a sweat—he simply walked forward as bullets bounced off an invisible barrier around him like they were nothing more than stray mosquitoes.
One of the guards had the audacity to keep shooting. Not out of bravery. No. That was pure panic-fueled denial.
Raizel turned slightly.
"Frankenstein," he said, voice calm. "Deal with them."
And then, with the sheer disrespect of someone who did not consider them worth his time, Raizel flicked his fingers, sending their weapons flying out of their hands with telekinesis.
The guards barely had time to process that horror before the real nightmare stepped forward.
Frankenstein smiled.
No. That wasn't a smile. That was a promise of violence wrapped in amusement.
"Fufufufufu."
There was something deeply wrong with a man who laughed like that before fighting.
Some of the guards, proving they had survival instincts, hesitated.
Some of the guards, proving they did not, decided to move after Raizel.
Mistake.
Frankenstein's purprle blade like aura in his hand. A single, effortless swing.
And the floor split open like butter.
That was it.
That was all it took for the guards to physically take a step back.
Frankenstein tilted his head, studying them like a madman observing particularly slow test toys.
"Let us have some fun, then," he murmured, eyes gleaming with something far too enthusiastic.
The guards swallowed.
This was going to be a very long night.