My Husband Is a Million Years Old Vampire-Chapter 179

For a long moment, the air was thick with tension.

The three men, still rattled by Raymond’s sudden appearance, tried to puff themselves up, masking their fear behind ugly smirks and cocky laughs.

One of them, a lanky man with greasy hair and a cigarette hanging from his lips, was the first to speak, his voice loud and mocking.

"Looks like someone missed his way," he sneered, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. "What’s the matter, kid? Lost your mommy?"

The others chuckled, their laughter forced and nervous.

Another, heavier and broader, slapped the table hard and pointed at Raymond.

"You must be stupid or crazy to come waltzing into this place. You sure you didn’t take a wrong turn from your playground?"

They laughed again, louder this time, feeding off each other’s false bravado. Their words were sharp, but their hands kept twitching near their waists, close to the knives and pipes they had hidden nearby.

Raymond didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink.

His bloodshot eyes stayed locked on them, cold and unmovable, like a lion watching cornered prey make noise before the kill.

That silence only made them angrier—and more desperate.

The third man, taller than the others and wearing a torn leather jacket, took a step forward. He puffed out his chest, trying to look intimidating.

"This place," he said, jabbing a finger toward the cracked floor, "ain’t for children like you. It’s for real men. Not little lost boys."

His lips twisted into a smug grin.

"So here’s what I’m gonna do," he continued, voice dripping with arrogance. "I’m feeling generous tonight. I’ll pretend you never walked in. You just turn around right now—leave while you still got legs—and we’ll act like we never saw your sorry face."

His friends snickered behind him, nodding along as if they had already won.

Raymond’s fists remained relaxed at his sides.

But his eyes... his eyes grew even darker, almost unreadable.

The tension in the air grew heavier with every passing second.

Raymond didn’t move.

Not even a step back. Not even a shift in his stance. He stood there like a wall, his cold eyes locked on the men in front of him as if they were already nothing more than dust.

That stillness—his complete lack of fear—set them off even more.

The man who had spoken earlier snapped, his voice rising with frustration.

"What’s wrong with you?!" he barked, his chest heaving. "Are you deaf or something? Didn’t you hear what I just said?!"

The others fanned behind him, their faces twisting with anger, puffing themselves up, trying to intimidate the unmoving figure standing in their way.

"You better move now!" the heavy one added, his voice laced with threat. "Before we descend on you and tear you apart! No mercy, kid! We’ll leave you crawling out of here, begging for your life!"

Still, Raymond didn’t budge.

His gaze remained steady, his breathing calm, as if the three men standing before him didn’t even exist.

The man in the torn leather jacket, the one who had dared to step forward first, lost his patience completely.

With a curse under his breath, he stormed up to Raymond, his hand jabbing aggressively in the air.

"You acting like you didn’t hear me?" he snarled, jabbing his finger at Raymond’s chest.

The finger connected—

a hard push.

"You better move now!" the man hissed, spitting his words in Raymond’s face. "I’m warning you! Leave immediately! Or we’re gonna deal with you so bad, you won’t even know what hit you!"

Before the man could even finish his sentence, Raymond moved.

It was like a flash—fast, precise, brutal.

Then Raymond’s hand shot out and caught the man’s extended finger mid-air, gripping it tightly.

A sickening crack echoed through the room as Raymond twisted the finger backward without hesitation.

The man let out a sharp, gut-wrenching scream, stumbling forward as pain exploded through his arm and shot through his body like fire.

"Ahhh! You bastard!" he cried out, clutching his hand in agony.

Out of pure instinct and rage, the man swung his free hand, aiming a wild punch straight at Raymond’s face.

But Raymond was faster.

Effortlessly, Raymond caught the second hand before it could even reach him. His grip was like iron, unforgiving.

In one smooth motion, he stepped closer, locking both of the man’s arms under his own and wrapping a single arm tightly around the man’s neck.

And then—without any visible strain—Raymond lifted him.

The man’s feet left the ground completely.

He dangled there, his legs kicking and thrashing helplessly, his hands clawing at Raymond’s forearm, trying to pry himself free.

But the more he struggled, the tighter Raymond’s grip became—an unbreakable vise crushing against his throat.

The man’s face turned red, his screams turning into strangled gasps.

Across the room, the other two men froze in horror.

Their jaws dropped, their bodies stiffened. Fear flickered violently in their eyes.

They watched, speechless, as Raymond effortlessly held their colleague in the air with one arm—as if he were lifting nothing heavier than a child’s toy.

What the hell is this?! they both thought at once, unable to process the terrifying sight in front of them.

The man trapped in Raymond’s grasp thrashed harder, more desperately, but it was useless. Every movement only made Raymond’s hold tighten even further, choking off what little breath he had left.

The man gasped and clawed desperately at Raymond’s arm, his fingers scratching helplessly against solid muscle that wouldn’t give an inch.

His veins began to bulge, standing out thick and angry across his forehead and temples. His face twisted grotesquely, turning a deep, ugly shade of purple as the blood tried and failed to find its way through the constricted veins.

His eyes—God, his eyes—started to swell, protruding slightly from their sockets, wild with terror and disbelief.

He could barely understand what was happening to him. One minute he was mocking this stranger, the next he was dangling helplessly like a ragdoll, death creeping fast up his spine.

He tried to say something—anything—but before the first choked syllable could leave his mouth, Raymond moved.

With a sudden, brutal jerk, Raymond twisted the man’s neck to the side.

A sickening crack split the air.

The man’s body went instantly limp in Raymond’s grasp.

Life snuffed out like a candle.

Raymond didn’t even blink.

With a slight grunt, he hurled the corpse sideways with a savage swing of his arm.

The body slammed against the concrete wall with a sickening thud.

The head, already broken, split open further on impact, splattering blood and bone violently across the cracked surface.

The wall was stained deep crimson, the shattered remains sliding slowly down to the floor, leaving a long, ugly smear.

The other two men stood frozen.

Their mouths hung open. Their bodies refused to move.

They had seen fights before. They had seen men killed before.

But this—this wasn’t normal.

Raymond had looked like just another guy when he walked in. Ordinary. Quiet.

But no ordinary man could snap a body like that.

No ordinary man could do it so easily—so coldly.

Terror rooted itself deep in their bones as the truth crept into their minds:

This thing standing before them wasn’t normal.

This wasn’t a man, Something was very, very wrong.

The two men exchanged a quick, panicked glance, the unspoken fear loud between them.

Their feet began to shuffle backward, slow at first, as if they still hoped to find some way out without triggering whatever monster stood in front of them.

But it was hopeless, every instinct in their bodies screamed at them: Run.

Without thinking twice, they turned and bolted toward the old staircase, desperate to reach the upper floor—maybe to find their boss, maybe to escape, they didn’t even know anymore.

But they never made it, before they could take even two full steps, Raymond moved.

One second he was standing by the doorway, quiet and deadly.

The next—he was directly in front of them.

As if he had just appeared there, like a nightmare given flesh.

The two men skidded to a stop so fast one of them lost his balance, crashing clumsily to the ground.

His palms scraped against the rough concrete, but he barely noticed. His heart was thundering in his ears, his mind frozen in disbelief.

How? How did he move so fast?!

Trembling, he raised his hands in the air, his voice shaking so badly it barely formed words.

"P-please!" he stammered. "W-we didn’t do anything wrong! I swear! We—we didn’t touch her! We didn’t even hurt her!"

He kept crawling backward, like a bug scrambling away from a flame.

"Why... why are you fighting us?" he cried out, his voice breaking. "Why are you killing us when we did nothing wrong?!"

Before the man who had fallen could even finish his desperate plea, Raymond moved.

Swift. Merciless.

With one brutal swing of his leg, Raymond delivered a devastating kick straight to the side of the man’s neck.

The sound was horrifying.

A loud, sickening crack echoed through the room, sharp and final.

The force of the impact was so powerful that the man’s body snapped sideways, his skull colliding violently against the wall.

Blood splattered instantly, staining the concrete in thick, dark streaks as part of his skull gave way under the sheer force.