Deacon Frost, who was determined to overthrow the corrupt rule of the current vampires, possessed a blazing, sun-like ambition.
Therefore…
Whether it was the Thirteen Pureblood Council that held him back internally, Blade who did nothing but decapitate vampires all day long externally, or Locke, the rising star who had been slaughtering them for the past month—
All of them were recorded on Deacon Frost’s blacklist.
Right now, the Thirteen Pureblood Council held immense power.
He still hadn’t found some of the things he wanted, so for the time being, he could only obey the Council’s decisions.
But just because he couldn’t act didn’t mean others couldn’t.
For instance, he could get Blade to deal with Locke and his crew.
Think about it.
What would Blade think if he stumbled upon the transaction and saw Frost handing Locke two million dollars in cold, hard cash?
Blade was a ruthless man.
He was ruthless to vampires, and even more ruthless to ordinary humans who willingly became their blood thralls.
When the time came…
Heheh.
What did the people Blade killed have to do with them, the vampires?
As this thought crossed Deacon Frost’s mind, a sinister smile appeared on his face.
*Just you wait, you thirteen old fossils.*
*Once I obtain the Blood God, your good days will be over.
When that time comes, I will let you know what it means when they say a great man born between heaven and earth cannot spend his life groveling under others.*
Deacon Frost snorted coldly, turned around, flicked his bathrobe, and walked back toward his spacious bedroom, which was filled with a hazy, seductive atmosphere.
Inside.
Blade’s biological mother—specifically, the Black woman from the black-and-white pairing just now—was kneeling on the ground in an incredibly alluring posture.
Looking at Deacon Frost as he walked in, she opened her mouth with a blissful, submissive smile.
“Mmmph!”
“No way!”
“It’s too dangerous, Boss.
You can’t go.”
Seeing Locke hang up the phone, Debbie and Brown immediately began to anxiously dissuade him.
No matter what they said, they would not agree to let Locke go alone.
Locke slipped his phone back into his pocket and quietly watched Debbie and Brown, who were so worked up they looked ready to tie him up to prevent him from going to the meeting.
He couldn’t help but chuckle.
“When did I ever say I was going alone?”
“Uh…”
“Huh?”
Debbie and Brown looked at each other, then turned back to Locke.
“Boss, didn’t you just agree…”
“The Sentinel Secret Service never negotiates with criminals!”
Go alone?
Locke would have to be out of his mind to actually go to a solo meeting.
What was his status, and what was that vampire’s status?
He, Locke Underwood, was the son of a Democratic Representative and the House Majority Whip…
Cough, cough.
A mere vampire who couldn’t even stand the light of day was not worthy of a private meeting with him.
Besides, he was a cheat-code user.
As long as he stayed alive, he would get stronger sooner or later.
There was no need to risk himself against a vampire whose future was already written in stone.
As the ancients said, a gentleman does not stand beneath a crumbling wall.
Locke never did anything risky.
Hearing Locke say this, Brown finally let go of his anxiety.
He glanced at Debbie again and then looked back at Locke.
“Should we notify the agency now and have the tactical unit head over to the abandoned hangar?”
Locke shook his head.
“No.”
“Why…”
Just as Brown was about to ask, he suddenly realized something.
He looked at Locke.
“There’s a mole in our agency?”
Meeting Brown’s gaze, Locke nodded.
He had learned about this from Blade a month ago, after he and Natasha had agreed to cooperate.
Blade said that two months ago, during a raid on a hidden vampire bar, he had found a fallen Sentinel Secret Service badge on the ground.
Clearly, either some poor bastard from the Sentinel Secret Service had become an after-dinner dessert to spice things up at the vampire bar, or the Sentinel Secret Service had its own blood thralls.
The same rule applied:
Immortality!
It was a temptation that ordinary people simply could not resist.
It was also after Blade mentioned this that Locke learned from Natasha that Blade suspected him of being a blood thrall.
Hearing that at the time, Locke instantly realized why Natasha had kissed every single inch of his body that night.
It wasn’t because the mood was right; she was checking if he had the unique mark of a blood thrall.
Fortunately.
That night, he had stumbled upon the fact that drinking Thunder Bourbon could restore warmth to his cold body.
“Oh, right.”
“Time for a drink.”
Coming back to his senses, Locke pulled out the small flask of Thunder Bourbon he always carried with him, unscrewed it, and drained it in one gulp.
His body temperature, which had been gradually dropping because he hadn’t drunk at noon, returned to normal once more.
Locke screwed the cap back on the flask and looked at Debbie.
“Did you find the agent who lost the badge?”
Debbie shook her head and couldn’t help but complain, “Boss, do you know how many agents are in our building?
And not every agent reports it when they lose their badge.”
This was the truth.
Once a lost badge was reported, it would trigger an Internal Affairs investigation.
Besides, a badge wasn’t like an ID card—not everyone wore it all the time.
So even if they lost it, most agents chose not to report it.
Locke was well aware of this.
This was also why, despite his agreement with Natasha, there was no overt cooperation on the surface.
Simply put, there were bad guys in the agency.
But this guy would be rooted out sooner or later.
Locke didn’t dwell on it.
Getting back to business, he looked directly at Debbie.
“Debbie, go back to the agency now and take charge of the command center.
Tell the Sentinels in the Information Department to have the Sentinel satellite in position before three this afternoon.”
Debbie nodded.
“The abandoned hangar?”
“Yes, monitor every single move at the abandoned hangar.
I won’t be going alone, and this Deacon Frost definitely won’t be going alone either.”
Locke was absolutely sure of this.
He claimed he would come alone.
But Deacon Frost was, after all, the leader of the vampires in New York City.
Even if his class couldn’t match Locke’s, he still had some status.
As a leader, driving there all by himself would be too embarrassing.
At the very least, he would have a driver.
As Locke spoke, he looked at Brown.
“Do we have the specially made UV sniper rounds ready?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Locke stroked his chin.
Hearing this and seeing the expression on Locke’s face, Brown seemed to realize what Locke was planning.
However…
He felt that something was off and said, “What about the two million?
We’re not taking it?”
Locke glanced at Brown and smiled.
“Only kids make choices!”
“…So?”
“I want both!”
Locke smiled slightly, extended his right hand toward Brown, and clenched it into a fist.