Shameless AF: Dad of the Damn Multiverse

Chapter 52: Ambush

With the vows exchanged, the wedding shifted into full celebration mode. Energetic music blasted through the venue as guests danced and drank with abandon.

At most weddings, the bride tosses a bouquet. But not this one.

To wild cheers, Kevin crawled under Veronica's dress and, using only his mouth, pulled off a white lace thong and tossed it into the crowd like a bouquet. The guests scrambled for it, roaring with laughter.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so proud of you. This is from your father," Veronica's mother said, handing a sealed envelope to the newlyweds.

"Thank you, Mom," Veronica replied, taking the envelope and opening it immediately—eager to see the inheritance her father had left.

"…Just five hundred bucks? Are you kidding me?" she blurted out, shocked by the small amount.

"I… I didn't know how much was in there," her mother said awkwardly.

Five hundred dollars couldn't buy them a bathroom, let alone a house. Two nice dinners and the money would be gone.

---

Meanwhile, at the bar, Dean mingled inconspicuously with the crowd. Spotting Fiona, his eyes lit up, and he made his move.

"Why isn't he here yet…" Fiona murmured, checking the time repeatedly, clearly waiting for someone.

"Sorry I'm late. Hey, that's my girl. She's taken," a voice interrupted. The door burst open, and Steve entered holding a cake. Spotting Dean flirting with Fiona, he marched over, cutting straight between them.

"Who's this pretty boy?" Dean frowned.

"You're late," Fiona said coldly, unimpressed.

"I—" Steve tried to explain.

"Cake's here!" Frank shouted, grabbing the cake and interrupting Steve mid-sentence. He squeezed between Steve and Fiona, forcing them apart.

Weddings were important. Shape-shifters were important. But letting some unreliable jerk near his precious daughter? That was unacceptable!

With the chaos of the cake and the crowd rushing over, Fiona was pulled away by Veronica.

---

Frank seized the moment and leaned close to Dean.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a low voice.

"I'm protecting you. That shape-shifter might be hiding in the bar," Dean replied.

"No—it's still impersonating Officer Eddie," Frank whispered back, sharing the intel he'd gathered.

"And another thing—Fiona's my daughter. Stay away from her," Frank warned sternly.

Steve wasn't good enough, and Dean, a monster hunter constantly in danger, was even worse. Frank had no intention of letting his daughter become a widow. Anyone wanting to get close to her had to go through him first.

---

"Gallaghers, you're like family to me—let's take a group photo!" Kevin called out.

"Go ahead," Karen said, stepping aside. She thought Kevin meant just the Gallagher clan.

But Frank pulled her back.

"I… I don't think I should," she said hesitantly.

"You're one of us. You're my kid too," Frank said, ruffling her hair and pulling her to his side. He even helped angle her phone so Sheila's face was visible in the shot.

Last time, when John took the family photo at Frank's house, Karen and Sheila weren't included. This time, it felt complete.

Everyone was genuinely happy. No one objected to Karen being in the picture.

"Tonight, we drink till we drop!" Kevin raised his glass and shouted, kicking the party into its final gear.

The celebration lasted until late into the night before guests finally started to trickle out.

---

"It's getting late. Lip, take Karen home," Frank said.

"And you, Fiona—take the others," he added.

Frank bid farewell to the rest, then wandered off alone, appearing drunk, staggering down the street and even stopping to vomit against a wall.

The street was empty except for the occasional rumble of passing trains, their metallic screeches echoing in the silence.

A shadow appeared at the corner.

In the fleeting light of a train, its pupils glowed pale and luminous—unnaturally so.

"You!!" Frank gasped, terror in his eyes. He stumbled back and fell to the ground.

"Frank," said the shape-shifter in Eddie's form, walking slowly toward him.

"W-What are you? Why Eddie's face? Why are you trying to kill me?" Frank stammered, shaking.

"I have a principle," the shape-shifter replied. "I grant wishes. Eddie wished for his family to go back to how it used to be. And that happened to change the moment you showed up. So… to fulfill that wish, I have to kill you."

"My rule is simple: I kill, deliver the head to grant the wish, and then move on to the next target that catches my interest. After Eddie, I'll find someone new."

"But yesterday, I caught a whiff of your emotions… and they were delightful," it said, smiling creepily. "So you're next. I'll grant your wish too."

"But to fulfill Eddie's wish, you still have to die first. A bit of a dilemma. So… any final wish before I kill you?"

"Never mind. No need to say it," it continued before Frank could reply. "Once I become you, I'll inherit your memories—and I'll know exactly what your deepest wish is. I'll line up your head next to his."

---

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Suddenly, the shape-shifter's expression changed. It dove behind a trash can just in time to dodge a hail of bullets.

Dean burst onto the scene, gun drawn.

"Damn it!" he cursed, seeing his shots miss the vital target.

"Bastard!" the shape-shifter hissed, clutching its wounds. Despite dodging, it hadn't escaped unscathed—bullets had pierced its left shoulder and leg.

"Silver bullets," it growled, feeling the searing pain.

Silver wounds couldn't be healed. To recover, it would need to shed its skin entirely—and that would take time and energy.

---

Bang! Bang!

Despite the pain, the shape-shifter fired back, forcing Dean into cover.

Dean returned fire, methodically advancing toward the creature's hiding spot. He spotted the blood trail—it was hurt, badly. There was no way it could get far.

He remembered what John had said earlier: they had to kill it. Letting it escape was not an option.

Growing impatient, Dean pushed forward, gun trained on the last known position—but found only blood. No monster.

"Where the hell is it!?" he muttered, scanning with his flashlight and gun.

Using the blood trail, he pressed on. Judging by how much it lost, the shape-shifter couldn't be far.