Chapter 38: Run or Rot

The growl shook the walls. Wolves poured into the chamber, their eyes shining like burning coals. Claws scraped against the marble floor, and fangs glinted menacingly.

The leader pushed his way through the pack, his fur standing on end, and his voice boomed like thunder.

“The bride belongs to us.”

Camela's heart raced with fear. She tightened her grip on Vincent's hand, but his hold slipped weakly through the thorns that pricked him. His face twisted in pain, and sweat dripped down his forehead.

"Stay back!" Camela shouted, her voice trembling. "He's mine…I won't let you harm him!"

The wolf leader narrowed his gaze. "You think you have a choice, girl?" He stepped closer, his massive body frame looming over her. "You are already marked. You carry both his scent and ours. You're just a prey wearing a crown."

"Camela…" Vincent's voice was strained, choked by the roses digging into him. "Don't fight them…run…"

"No!" She got to her feet unsteadily and picked up a shard of glass from the shattered floor. Her hands trembled as she held it up, aimed at the wolves as a weapon.

"If you want me, you'll bleed for it," she said fiercely

The wolves laughed in a low, hungry sound that echoed in the chamber.

One of the wolves lunged at her.

Camela slashed wildly, cutting its snout with the glass. The beast howled in pain as blood dripped down its face while the others snarled and moved forward.

"Camela!" Vincent yelled desperately as he struggled against the thorns that dug deeper into him. His wrists bled against the chains holding him back.

"Stop! They’ll rip you apart!" he yelled again.

“Better that than let them cage me!” she shouted back defiantly.

Meanwhile, the council members stood across the chamber, still soaked from the floodwater, shouting commands. Their leader raised a hand decisively and spoke up as his voice echoed through the chamber.

"She belongs to us, wolf scum! By ancient law, the bride belongs to the council!"

The wolves turned their growls toward the council members. "She is promised to our pack!"

Camela's chest rose and fell rapidly as the two sides glared at each other, for a moment forgetting her presence. She crouched beside Vincent, whispering, “Hang on. I’ll set you free.”

His head rested against her shoulder, his breath warm and shaky.

“You need to listen,” he urged. “If they win…if they break me…you have to promise me you won’t hesitate. End it.”

Her throat tightened. “Please stop saying that.”

“You don’t get it!” His eyes went wide with fear. “They’ll empty me. They’ll wear me like a mask. You’ll think it’s really me…but it won’t be. If that happens, Camela…” His voice trembled. “Kill me.”

Tears blurred her vision as she replied. “I can’t do that. Don’t ask me.”

“You have to,” he pleaded, his lips nearly brushing her ear. “Please…before I’m gone.”

The roses tightened around him again, forcing a cry from his throat. She held his face tightly and whispered.

“I won’t let them take you away from me. Not like this.”

The wolves moved closer again. One seized Camela’s arm, its claws cutting into her skin. She screamed and twisted, using the glass shard to slice across the wolf's wrist, sending blood spraying everywhere.

The creature howled in pain as another wolf tackled her to the ground.

Vincent roared with rage, straining against his chains until the marble beneath his feet cracked. Blood flowed from his wrists as the thorns pulled him back down deeper.

“Get your hands off her!” His voice thundered through the chamber.

The wolf pressed Camela’s face into the stone floor. “Submit,” growling in her ear, “You were born to kneel.”

“Never!” she shouted back, driving the glass shard into its neck. Warm blood splattered over her hand as the wolf howled and stumbled backward.

The pack of wolves growled in fury as they surrounded her. The council members lifted their hands, sparks of fire dancing between their fingers. “She will not belong to them!”

The wolves charged at the council members, snapping their jaws at the flickering flames. Chaos erupted in the hall—wolves slashing, council members shouting, fire and blood mixing in a wild frenzy.

Camela crawled over to Vincent, gripping his hand tightly again. “Tell me what to do. How can I save you?” she asked

He shook his head weakly, his eyes glassy with pain as he responded. “You can’t. They won’t stop. They’ll never stop. The only way out is death.”

“No!” she shouted above the uproar in the chamber. “We’ll find another way. We’ll run away or burn everything down if we have to.”

His lips quivered slightly; for a moment, it looked like he might smile. “Run or rot, Camela. That’s all there is.”

Before she could respond, claws snagged her dress and yanked her off her feet, dragging her toward the wolves. She kicked and screamed, her nails scraping against the marble floor as they pulled her along like a trophy.

Vincent roared, his voice shattering the glass still clinging to the walls. His body convulsed as the thorns dug into him while he fought against the chains binding him.

“Let her go!” His voice trembled with an intensity that felt almost unnatural.

The wolves snarled back at him, their leader grinning with blood-covered fangs. “You can’t even save yourself, fox. She belongs to us.”

The council members raised their torches high. “No! She is part of the bloodline!”

The two sides clashed once more, their rage shaking the entire hall as Camela found herself caught in between—pulled by claws and chains of fire.

Her heart raced with fear until a commanding voice echoed through the chamber.

“Enough!” the voice thundered.

The sound was deep and resonant, like stones grinding together. Both the wolves and the council stopped the uproar mid-attack, their heads snapping toward the dark from which the voice seemed to have erupted.

Camela froze in place, as her chest rose and fell rapidly.

From a distant corner, the darkness thickened and twisted like smoke. A figure emerged—tall and cloaked, with his face hidden.

The wolves stiffened in response, while the council turned pale as they all stood stunned.

The stranger's voice cut through the silence with a tone that sounded authoritative.

“Release her!”

The wolf leader growled defiantly. “Who dares to give us orders?”

The man pulled back his hood just enough to reveal a sharp jawline and eyes that glinted like polished obsidian. He didn’t look at Camela but focused on Vincent instead.

“Don’t you recognize me, fox?” he asked.

Vincent tensed up completely, his eyes widening as fear flashed across his face.

“No…” he rasped in disbelief. “Not you.”

Camela looked back and forth between them, feeling a swirl of confusion.

“Do you know him?” she asked.

Vincent gasped for breath. “Stay away from him! Don’t trust him!” he replied.

The cloaked man's lips curved upward slightly, as he smiled faintly. “You're still as proud and stubborn as ever, Vincent or the fox perhaps.”

He then turned his focus to Camela, his eyes piercing like a blade. “The bride cannot belong to them; she is under my protection now.”

The council hissed, and the wolves growled menacingly, yet no one dared to move as they watched things unravel.

Camela swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she asked, “Who are you?”

The cloaked man's smile widened slightly. “An old friend of your fox…one who remembers his promises.”

Vincent struggled against his chains as they rattled loudly. “Don’t listen! Camela…he’s not here to help! He’s worse!”

The cloaked man extended a gloved hand toward her, his tone smooth and calm, almost gentle. “Come now, bride. Do you want freedom? Choose me.”

Camela's heart raced as snarls erupted from the wolves around her while the council members muttered curses and Vincent pleaded to her through his bloodied lips.

And the cloaked man stood patiently, his hand stretched open in the darkness waiting for her decision.