All Chapters of Until The Last Day: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

The wolves halted at the doorway, their growls low and sharp. Shadows bent as the cloaked man moved forward, his boots echoing on the wet marble floor. The storm of torches flickered back to life, illuminating his hooded face in half-light. Camela pressed closer to Vincent, gripping his arm tightly. He remained entangled in the thorny dress, trembling with pain and looking pale. Her heart raced against her ribs. The cloaked man raised a hand. His voice flowed smoothly, steady and calm—like a hidden blade wrapped in velvet. “Stand down.” The wolves paused mid-snarl, their eyes darting as confusion swept through the pack. One let out a whimper. The leader bared his teeth. “Who dares speak to us like that?” The cloaked man slowly lowered his hood. His face was sharp and even handsome but marked by deep lines from time and battle. His green eyes were piercing and far too vibrant as they moved from the wolves to Vincent. Camela noticed Vincent tense up. For the first time, true reco

The word struck her like a blade.“Bride…bow.” Camela froze, as she felt her stomach drop to ice. Vincent’s voice was different—it was deeper and heavier, resonating with the whispers of the council. Her lips shook. “No. That can’t be you. Please say it isn’t you.” Vincent’s eyes, once bright and fierce, now glimmered with an eerie, dull light as he moved closer to her. The chain dragging across the marble floor echoed loudly in her ears. “Bride,” he repeated. “Bow.” Camela took a step back. “Vincent, stop! Please…they are doing this to you. Fight it!” His hand twitched as though a part of him wanted to reach out to her, but his jaw tightened, and his shoulders became rigid. “Chains don’t break; they choose. Bow,” he commanded. The voices of the council rose behind him in unison filling the chamber: “Bow. Bow. Bow.” Camela grasped her chest, struggling for breath as panic set in. She shook her head fiercely. “I won’t do it! You can’t force me…especially not you!” He quickene

The water surrounded Camela like ice. She struggled, her breath hitching as her hands flailed through the dark water while she strived to maintain her balance. “Vincent!” Her voice cracked, swallowed by the endless darkness of the black water. Under the surface eyes blinked, hundreds of them unblinking and watching. A scaled tail brushed against her thigh again, slow and deliberate. She froze, her heartbeat pounding louder than her thoughts. From the darkness came a whisper. “Bride…” The voice was gentle, almost sweet—like syrup too thick and sticky—but there was a hard edge to it, a hidden threat wrapped in sweetness. Camela’s throat tightened. “Who’s there?” The water bubbled and something surfaced—a pale face breaking through the waves. It wasn’t human; its skin was too smooth, its mouth too wide, with lips curling into a smile that never reached its cold eyes. “You fall, and we catch,” it whispered. “We keep what enters the cage.” Camela kicked back in panic, but mor

The chain lunged for her throat. Camela screamed in terror and she recoiled, but Vincent pulled her close, positioning himself in front of her protectively. The molten links of the chain crashed against his chestplate with a sound like snapping bones, sending sparks flying. “Vincent!” she shouted. He pushed her away, baring his teeth. “Run!” But the chamber offered no path for escape. The walls loomed too closely, the wolves were too close at hand, and the council watched like statues carved from shadow.The chain hissed like it had a mind of its own. Its links twisted and clinked against the marble floor as it wrapped around them both. Camela pressed her back against Vincent’s. “It’s moving like it can think.”“It can,” Vincent replied darkly. “It craves blood.” The red-tied man leaned forward from his chair, his voice calm yet cutting through the chaos. “One chain. One cage. One keeper.” Her heart raced. “What does that mean?” He smiled faintly. “It will determine who stays l

The torches crackled and hissed, their flames reaching up high and narrow like they wanted to tear the chamber apart. Camela stumbled back, gripping her burning palm. The oath still crawled beneath her skin, her blood pulsing like an unstoppable drumbeat. Vincent grasped her shoulders. “Camela…look at me.” Her eyes were wide and unblinking. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t say that.” “You did,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I heard you. Everyone here heard you.” The council members leaned forward in their seats, quietly observing her. The wolves roamed the marble floor, their suits rustling and claws scratching faint marks into the stone. From the elevated seat, the red-tied man spoke softly. “Blood speaks more truth than words. An oath made in blood cannot be undone.” Camela gasped for breath. “But that wasn’t me.” Vincent’s grip on her shoulder tightened as he said gently. “It wasn’t you; it was the bond. You forced this upon yourself.” The red-tied man smiled faintly. “S