The night was thick with tension. The air was heavy, and every sound—no matter how small—rang out like a scream in Aisha's ears. She heard footsteps approaching her door and, with a reflex honed by the countless times she'd faced danger, slipped back into bed and pretended to be asleep.
Her body trembled, every muscle aching with exhaustion. Her mind screamed at her to resist, to find a way out, but the cold certainty of her situation seeped in like a venom. She was trapped.
The sound of firm steps echoed beyond the door, and her breathing turned ragged. It wasn't fear that paralyzed her. It was rage. Rage for having fallen into this trap. Rage for not being strong enough. Rage because she knew Cristal was somewhere in the same hell.
—"Orders are to put them together," a male voice said on the other side.
Aisha closed her eyes and slowed her breath, feigning unconsciousness. She felt the cold bite of iron locking around her wrists with a dry snap, sealing her fate. They hoisted her roughly, her skin crawling at the touch of unfamiliar hands. A chill crawled down her spine as she was dragged through the halls, her body swaying, powerless against what came next.
Through half-lidded eyes, she saw someone step into the room. Tall. Commanding.
He entered like a shadow in flesh—tall, wrapped in darkness, with raven-black hair that fell like a curtain of night. His eyes barely glanced her way, yet his presence devoured the entire room.
Salomon.
The name struck her mind like a sentence. She'd heard enough to know he wasn't just another enemy. There was something in the way he moved, in the way the air grew heavier around him. This was a man who never hesitated. Who never feared.
Aisha's heart thundered—not from terror, but sheer frustration. Her rage simmered like smothered fire. No matter how tired she was, she would not let him take control.
—"Cristal?" she whispered, her voice a thin thread laced with urgency.
No reply. But when she turned her head—she saw her. Shackled in a corner, pale, breathing shallow. Something in Aisha tore at the sight.
Not again. I won't let them break us.
The door opened again, and Salomon strode toward Cristal with the calm cruelty of an executioner—utterly ignoring Aisha.
Her fury ignited.
—"Don't you fucking touch her!" she roared, her voice laced with fury and desperation. Her body screamed in protest as she tried to rise, every muscle burning, but she didn't care.
Chains or no chains. Weak or not. She would fight. To her last breath.
Salomon didn't look at her. With a flick of his hand, he commanded:
—"Out. I want the room empty."
Hours later…
In another corridor of the old mansion, Lionel halted mid-step as Salomon emerged from the shadows.
—"Didn't think you'd stoop this low," Lionel said coldly, barely holding onto courtesy.
—"Stoop to what?" Salomon raised an eyebrow. "To keeping alive the only piece that still moves Sanathiel?"
Lionel didn't reply. He just stared, sharp and unreadable.
—"I hope you know what you're doing. My niece still has allies... even if she doesn't believe it."
Salomon tilted his head, amused.
—"And are you one of them?"
Lionel didn't answer. He simply turned and vanished into the dark.
Salomon's smile didn't reach his eyes.
—"I know. That's why she still breathes."
The footsteps faded behind the door. Silence wrapped the room like a burial shroud. Salomon calmly pulled the curtains aside, allowing moonlight to spill faintly onto Cristal's tear-streaked face. Her hair clung to her skin, and though her body trembled, she didn't look away.
—"Enough," he said with a sharp, commanding tone. He lit a candle and brought it close to her face, eyes sharp and clinical like a predator studying prey.
Cristal didn't flinch. The fragility in her face was an act—a mask.
—"You really thought I'd let you go?" he murmured, blowing out the candle and sinking the room back into darkness.
She swallowed, but her voice held steady.
—"I was never free, Salomon. But that doesn't mean I don't know how to move within chains."
His brow arched. That smirk—cold and cutting—barely surfaced.
—"Interesting. Then tell me... what use are you to me?"
Cristal tilted her head slightly, reading him. His power wasn't just in strength. It was in what he knew. And knowledge—if used well—could save her.
—"The woman in the other room," she said, nodding toward where Aisha was held. "She's my father's lover. If you're looking for a bargaining chip, she's worth more than me."
That caught something in Salomon's eyes. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her neck.
—"If you're lying…" he whispered, "you'll pay with more than tears."
But Cristal didn't flinch. Not this time.
—"You think too much, Salomon," she said coolly.
The room turned glacial as he stepped in closer, his shadow swallowing hers. His voice dropped to a venomous whisper:
—"Prove your value tonight... give me a taste of your 'skills.' Maybe I'll reconsider."
A chill slid down her spine—but she didn't break. Instead, she raised her chin.
—"Skills?" she echoed with a bitter laugh. "I'm not a tool you get to use at your whim."
He chuckled softly.
—"Then tell me—what are you?"
She let the silence stretch. Then, in a whisper like broken glass:
—"An ally. If you know how to play your hand right."
He stared, his dark eyes dancing between amusement and evaluation.
—"Interesting."
She exhaled slowly, walking a blade's edge.
—"Still not convinced," he muttered.
Then, without warning, he yanked her blouse down to expose her stomach. He leaned close, eyes unreadable.
—"No sound. No heartbeat. Did you lie about the twins?"
Cristal gasped, her face flushing with fury and shame—but her mind was already racing.
—"I'm pregnant," she repeated, her voice now steel. "What would you know, Salomon? You've spent your life puppeteering my father."
He raised a brow, amused.
—"Those eyes… Just like his. The same ones I saw when we fought."
Cristal's fury broke like a wave.
—"Don't talk like you know me, Salomon! I tried being reasonable, but it never works. You're filth."
Then, with venom laced in strategy:
—"But if you want information… it's your choice to believe me or not."
She was bleeding from the inside—but she was sharp. Survival demanded it.
He studied her in silence. Then finally, a near-silent sigh escaped him.
—"I won't ask questions that don't yet deserve answers."
She met him without flinching.
—"Then consider this my opening move."
He nodded once.
—"Let's begin."
The curtains swept open, bathing the room in moonlight. In the distance, Aisha listened to every movement, every whisper, each one tightening the knot in her stomach.
She rubbed the frayed rope against a table's edge, drawing blood, but finally freed her wrists. In the room next door, voices scratched the floor like broken glass.
When Salomon returned, Aisha stood waiting—clutching a jagged piece of wood like a dagger. Her fear had burned down into cold fire.
—"Say your name. Or you'll face the white wolf," she warned, her voice steadier than it felt.
Salomon smirked. He snatched the wood and crushed it in his hand.
—"Had your fun, darling?" he whispered, contempt oozing from every syllable.
Beastmen stormed the room. Aisha was slammed to the ground, her arm twisted behind her back.
—"You don't need my name," Salomon murmured near her ear. "You'll have all the time in the world to get used to me."
She stared up, defiant even through the pain.
"Do what you want to me—but let Cristal go…
I couldn't save her from everything. But I can still give my life to shield hers."
Salomon's grin widened. With a wave, both women were unshackled.
—"The exchange is made. You for her."
Cristal, though freed, clenched her jaw as Aisha was dragged away.
This time… she wouldn't be a passive pawn.
—"This isn't over," she whispered to herself, a vow etched in her breath.
Hours later…
Sanathiel ran beneath the moonlight, his white-wolf form glowing in the dark. Each stride drew him closer—not just to Aisha—but to the danger he knew she now faced.
"Hold on, Aisha. I'm coming."
His paws thundered through the forest, and his mind flashed back—to a rainy night, her hands trembling on a blade.
He'd told her, "You're too fragile for this war."
And she had simply looked at him. No rage. Just resolve.
—"Then teach me how to fight it… with you."
That night, his wolf had heard her.
But it was his soul that answered.
Now, under the red moon's cold gaze, he wasn't just coming to rescue her.
He was coming to redeem himself.
Aisha bared her teeth, eyes locked on her captor.
The weight of pain and betrayal bore down like a stone slab. But there was still fire in her chest. Not for herself—but for Cristal. For every broken promise. Every lie that led them here.
—"You'll regret this," she rasped. "For every ruined life. Every drop of blood you've spilled."
Salomon chuckled dryly. Then stood, gesturing.
Beastmen grabbed her, dragging her away.
—"I don't care for regrets," he said coldly. "What I care about… is who you'll bring for me."
Because Aisha wasn't just a prisoner.
She was bait.
In the next room, Cristal stood frozen as the door shut. She exhaled—barely a breath, closer to grief than relief.
She knew what she'd done.
What she'd traded.
Her dignity, maybe. Her soul, likely.
But she had won something greater.
Time.
Time for Aisha to escape.
Time for Sanathiel to arrive.
As Aisha was dragged away, Cristal took a trembling step forward.
—"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Aisha turned to her, confused.
—"For what?"
Cristal looked away.
—"For not being stronger… when we still had a choice."
That was all.
Nothing more.
But as the door shut, Aisha felt it.
That wasn't just guilt.
It was a crack in the surface.
One she wasn't sure she wanted to look through… or seal shut.
Because if Cristal had learned anything from this hell, it was that the smallest piece—played at the right moment—could topple empires.
And she was ready to be that piece.
Even if it cost her everything.