Chapter 117
Chapter 117
Still Francesco Point of view.
The candlelight flickered low as the room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire.
“But if I remember correctly,” Marlow said, his tone sharp with suspicion, “there were thirty–six burned bodies in the council manor last time we searched. Thirty–six.”
The weight of his words settled heavily between us. Thirty–six bodies. Thirty–six council members. None survived—or so we believed.
Renna and Darius exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting from guilt to confusion.
“We… don’t know how that’s possible,” Renna murmured. “We barely escaped ourselves.”
“Could it have been the rogues?” Audrey asked, arms crossed, gaze narrowed.
I shook my head, dismissing the thought. “No. Rogues and council members smell vastly different. And scorched bones still retain the essence of who they once were. The scent at the manor was unmistakable–purebloods. Not rogues.”
“Then who?” Marlow pressed, his voice low, deadly, “Who were the thirty–six bodies?”
Renna lowered her gaze. Darius answered quietly, “We’ve wondered the same. There were… times, especially in the early weeks of our escape, when we
were hunted. By wolves we didn’t recognize. Not rogues. Not Kingdom guards. Something else.”
“And they knew who you were?” I asked.
He nodded. “At the beginning, yes. That’s why we changed our names. Hid in the deepest parts of the riverlands. Used every trick the old magic taught
us.”
Renna added softly, “We stopped seeing them after a year. Thought maybe they gave up.”
But something wasn’t sitting right in my gut. I paced, my mind racing, pieces clicking into place.
“I killed Luca,” I said aloud, almost to myself. “But… that wasn’t the first time.”
Audrey’s head snapped toward me. “What?”
Marlow went rigid. “You mean—”
“I killed him years ago,” I growled, clenching my fists at my sides. “Tore his throat open. Saw his blood stain the snow. His wolf didn’t rise again. Or so I thought.”
“But you met him again,” Marlow said grimly.
“And I killed him again.”
A chill spread in the room, like the darkness itself was listening.
“It’s possible,” Renna whispered, her eyes widening. “A rare kind of blood binding magic–old, illegal even in the forgotten circles. It allows resurrection, but at a cost.”
Darius’s expression darkened. “The caster must offer another life in exchange for their own.”
Thirty–six lives.
Thirty–six council members.
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Chapter 117
“Dio mio,” I whispered. “He didn’t just ambush the council. He sacrificed them.”
A sickening silence fell over us. Audrey cursed under her breath. Marlow looked as if he might punch through the stone wall.
“If that’s true,” Marlow growled, “he’s not just dangerous–he’s unnatural.”
“And worse,” I muttered. “If he used the ritual once, what’s stopping him from using it again?”
Renna looked up, fear etched deep in her tired eyes. “That’s why the poison in her soul won’t fade. It’s not just a tool–it’s an anchor. A thread. As long as part of that magic still clings to her, he can still come back.”
I stared at the doorway behind which Ellaine slept.
So she wasn’t just a victim.
She was the key.
And he would never stop hunting her as long as that magic remained.
Go to Third Party Point of view:
Deep beneath the ash–laden mountains, in the cold heart of the ruins he now claimed as his lair, Luca stood before a bloodstained table littered with bones, torn maps, and faded council emblems.
The strange thing wearing Luca’s skin grinned–inhumanly wide, too many teeth behind those cracked lips. The smell of decay clung to him, more magic than man now, a product of dark rituals that should never have been reborn.
He had once been a trusted knight.
Respected. Feared.
But that man was long gone–burned and bartered for the dark price of resurrection.
Now, he was something else.
His pale fingers traced the jagged scar at his throat–the same spot where Francesco Totti had ripped it open years ago. He remembered the pain. He cherished it. Because it reminded him of the hatred that kept him alive.
When he discovered that two council members had survived the massacre he orchestrated, he didn’t scream.
He didn’t curse.
He simply turned… and ripped apart every rogue responsible for that mission.
Blood had sprayed across the stone walls. Bones snapped like twigs. Pleas for mercy were swallowed by silence.
“They were supposed to be thorough,” he murmured now, voice like cracked ice. “Kill all thirty–eight. But they missed two. And worst of all…”
His claws curled against the table.
“…they took her.”
Ellaine Rollin Lycaon.
The white wolf. The witch.
Francesco’s beloved.
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Chapter 117
The key.
The obsession that had haunted his visions ever since he clawed his way back from death.
“1 will not stop,” he muttered to the shadows. “Not until I’ve destroyed his mate. Until I’ve broken the great Alpha King. Until I watch his soul burn like
mine did.”
Footsteps echoed beyond the corridor–quick and cautious.
A moment later, one of his trusted spies stepped into the dim chamber and dropped to one knee.
“Lord Luca,” the man said, breathless, “there’s news.”
Luca turned, eye twitching with anticipation. “Speak.”
The spy swallowed. “Rumors out of the River City. Three of our hidden guards stationed there have… vanished.”
That gave Luca pause. “Vanished?”
The spy nodded. “Locals whisper of a powerful knight–impossibly fast–protecting a woman. No one’s seen his face. But his aura… many claimed they felt magic and Lycan blood.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed. “A knight… protecting a woman.”
The pieces clicked together like teeth snapping shut.
Could it be…
“Francesco,” he said, almost reverently. “He found her.”
His grin stretched again–twisted and elated. “After all these months. After all the blood I spilled looking for her… she showed herself.”
He let out a low, hissing laugh.
“They think they’ve won. That hiding her among the riverfolk would keep her safe. Fools.”
He turned to the spy, voice sharp and hungry. “Take twenty of our best. Not rogues–use the shadow–touched. Quiet, quick. Track the Alpha King. Confirm it’s him. But do not engage.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Report to me the moment you see her. The moment you smell her.”
His gaze darkened. “And if she’s truly awakened… if her memories are returning…”
He stepped forward, lowering his face close to the trembling spy’s ear.
“…then I want her alive. Long enough to rip Francesco apart while she watches.”
The spy fled with a nod, disappearing into the shadows.
Luca turned back to his blood–soaked map. His claws drummed against the parchment.
This time, he would not fail.
This time, he would destroy them both.
And no magic, no love, no fate–would stop him.
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