Chapter 138: Escape Again

The glass cracked, and a sound like bones breaking echoed through the chamber. Shards of black glass spider-webbed outward in all directions, slicing through the air.

Vincent slammed his claws against the wall, his golden eyes glowing with intensity.

“Camela! Answer me!” he shouted.

On the other side, her trembling hand pressed against the barrier. Though her lips moved, no sound reached him—only the empty silence of the barrier between them.

He growled and slammed harder, sparks flying from his claws. “Don’t ask me that! Don’t even think about it! You know the reason!”

The crack grew larger. Tears filled her eyes as she mouthed the words again: Why didn’t you tell me sooner?

The silence felt suffocating, pressing in like a coffin.

Vincent roared, his body trembling with anger and grief. “Because I was afraid! If you knew, you’d never forgive me!”

The glass shuddered, and a low hum filled the chamber.

Camela flinched and backed away as her scar on her chest glowed fiercely, radiating light. Chains shot up from the floor, wrapping around her wrists and ankles.

“No!” Vincent roared as he struck the barrier again, blood streaming from his hands. “Don’t take her away from me again!”

The ghost’s voice whispered through the cracks—sounding calm and cold. “Fox. You keep trying to hold onto her. But cages don’t protect; they only hurt.”

Vincent growled and slashed at the wall. “I’d rather it be me than you!”

The barrier split in half with a thunderous crack, sending shards of glass tumbling down like black snowflakes.

Camela breathed sharply as the chains yanked her back forcefully. Vincent lunged through the collapsing shards of glass, his claws gripping her hand tightly.

Finally, her voice broke free and echoed throughout the chamber. “Vincent!”

He pulled with all his strength and responded, “I’ve got you! I won’t let go again!”

But the chain tightened, dragging her toward a dark hole in the ground. The void throbbed like a heartbeat.

“Vincent…” she murmured, her voice trembling. “It hurts.”

“I’ll take the pain.” His voice was raw with emotion while his claws gripped her arm tightly. “Give it to me. Not you.”

The ghost's laughter slithered through the darkness. “You still don’t get it. Escaping is not freedom; escape is just a delay.”

The chains jerked, yanking her away from his grip.

“NO!” Vincent roared, lunging forward. His claws caught onto the metal links. Sparks flew as he fought against them, his muscles straining and his blood soaking the floor.

Camela's eyes widened with desperation as she looked at him, pleading. “Vincent…let go…”

“Never.” He bared his teeth, his voice cracking. “Do you hear me? Never!”

The floor shook violently beneath them. Cracks spread across the walls, and the ceiling began to crumble, showering stones everywhere. The void grew wider, swallowing everything in its path.

Camela screamed as her body was pulled deeper into darkness. Vincent struggled against the chains, every vein in his body burning with effort.

The ghost whispered once more: “You can save her body or her soul…not both.”

“Shut up!” Vincent roared back fiercely. “I’ll save them both! She’s mine!”

The chains howled like metal in flames as one by one, the links began to snap apart.

Camela cried out again, reaching for him desperately. “Vincent…don’t die for me!”

He locked eyes with her, his voice trembling yet steady. “I already did.”

Then the last chain shattered completely.

She collapsed into his arms, her face pressed against his chest, crying. He held her tightly, trembling, bleeding, and frantic.

“I told you I’ll never let them take you away from me,” he said softly.

Her scar flickered faintly, its glow fading away. She trembled with fear and whispered. “Then…please escape with me.”

He looked down at her, noticing how her body trembled and the pleading look in her eyes. His claws tightened around her, whispering, “Always.”

The walls of the chamber began to crumble into dust. A door appeared ahead of them with white light streaming through the cracks.

Camela’s breath caught in her throat as she spoke. “That’s it…Vincent, that’s our way out.”

He stared at the door, feeling tension build in his chest. “It’s another trap,” he said.

She grasped his arm tightly and responded, “Even so…we have to give it a shot.”

He examined her—her fragile body, her shaky voice, and the desperate hope shining in her eyes. Finally, he said with a nod. “Then we’ll go together.”

They staggered toward the light slowly, step by step. The ground shook as it fell apart behind them.

The ghost's voice followed sharply like knives cutting through the air. “Run if you want. Escape again. But remember…every door you open leads back to me.”

Vincent didn’t look back. He tightened his grip on Camela. “Then keep waiting,” he responded.

They reached the door. Camela pressed her hand against it, and her scar flared up glowing white. The locks clicked open one by one. The light blazed so bright that it blinded them.

Vincent shielded her with his body and said, “Stay close to me. Don’t let go.”

Her hand held onto his firmly as she responded, “I won’t.”

The door creaked ominously before bursting open. A bright light engulfed them both.

They tumbled onto the cold ground. Which was made of hard stone—real and solid, not void or like glass.

Camela muttered, her chest heaving. “It’s...it’s real…”

Vincent looked around, scanning their surroundings with his golden eyes. They were in a narrow alley, the cobblestones slick from rain, and above them loomed a dark sky with moonlight spilling through the clouds.

He crouched low, his body tensed, and whispered, "It's too quiet.”

Camela staggered up next to him, gripping his arm tightly as she spoke. “Vincent we escaped…we made it out. We did.”

He remained silent, his ears twitching as he flexed his claws.

The silence lingered. Then they heard voices, distant voices of humans.

Camela's heart raced with excitement in her voice. “People! Real people!”

She tried to run toward the sound, but Vincent caught her wrist and said, “Wait.”

“Vincent…” she whispered urgently. “It’s the city. We’re back.”

His grip tightened on her as he spoke in a low, serious tone. “Or maybe he wants you to believe that.”

Footsteps echoed nearby. A lantern lit up at the end of the alley as two uniformed men stepped into view—police officers.

Camela froze in place, her mouth opening in shock. “Police…”

One officer saw them and his eyes widened in alarm. “Miss…are you alright? You’re bleeding!”

Camela stumbled forward, tears welling up in her eyes. “Please…help me!” she said.

Vincent said, shooting out his claws to block her path, his golden eyes fierce. “No.”

She turned to him, with desperation in her voice. “They’re real! Can’t you see? We can escape…if we trust them!”

The officers hurried closer, reassuringly saying, “Miss, don’t be afraid. We’ll get you to safety.”

Vincent growled loudly, shaking the alley with his warning. “Stay back.”

Camela gripped his arm tightly, pleading with him. “Vincent, please! I can’t run anymore; we need their help.”

His chest heaved as his instincts roared within him—the ghost's words echoed in his head: “Escape is not freedom; escape is just a delay.”

The officers approached her. “Come with us, miss. You’re safe now.”

Camela broke free from Vincent’s arms and fell into their reach. Her voice cracked as she pleaded, “Please…save me!”

The men caught her and held her steady, one of them wrapping his coat around her shoulders. “You’re safe now.”

Vincent's claws twitched, his body shook, and his eyes burned with anger as he glared at them.

Camela looked back, tears streaming down her face, she said, “Vincent…come with me. Please. Trust me.”

For the first time, Vincent hesitated.

The officers began to lead her down the alley, and the light from the lantern grew dimmer as she disappeared into the distance.

Her voice echoed back to him, breaking his heart. “Vincent…don’t stay behind!”

He took a step after her—but then he froze.

Because behind the two officers, in the flickering lantern light—he saw it.

A figure loomed in the darkness, tall and smiling, keeping a watchful eye on him. The ghost was present—patiently waiting.

Vincent's eyes widened in fear; his breath caught in his throat.

The ghost raised a finger to his lips: “Shh.”

The lantern light flickered again. The faces of the officers became blurry; their uniforms twisted, and their voices sounded strange.

Camela’s scream pierced through the night air.

And then everything in the alley faded into darkness.