The air was thick with tension as Darius' every movement was driven by a single, relentless thought—the scream of Elara. It echoed in his mind, urging him to give everything he had to end this werewolf's life. His muscles burned as he battled the rogue werewolf, the fury in his eyes reflecting the turmoil inside him. Each blow he delivered seemed more vicious, more determined than the last.
He kicked the werewolf's knees, sending it buckling to the ground with a painful growl. Without hesitation, Darius tore at the chains binding his legs. They had been a prison, restricting his power, but now, they were a weapon. The links clattered as they fell to the ground, and Darius swung them with brutal force, landing blow after blow on the werewolf's back. The sound of metal striking flesh echoed in the chaos, and soon, the werewolf lay motionless, its snarls and thrashes silenced by the sheer brutality of Darius's strikes.
Standing tall, his breath ragged, Darius surveyed the battlefield. His body was a testament to the battle he'd fought—his muscles bulging with the strain of the fight, his face smeared with droplets of blood, his skin marred by deep gouges from the werewolf's claws. The silverbane coursing through his veins prevented his wounds from healing as they should, and even the smallest scars lingered, slow to fade. But the pain was nothing compared to the rage and fear that filled him as he turned his gaze toward the carriage. Elara was there, but so was Given and the princess, and none of it mattered. His only focus was on Elara .
With each step he took toward the yard, the tension in the air shifted. The guards began to approach cautiously, their eyes wary as they raised their weapons. Darius could feel their hesitation, the uncertainty in their movements. He wasn't about to be chained again—not when he'd just saved their pathetic lives.
As the guards drew their weapons, Darius stood tall, a dangerous presence that made the air itself seem to thrum with power. But across the battlefield, the werewolf he had discarded had already turned its attention back to the carriage, its hunger once again clear in its eyes.
The beast lunged at the blonde-haired girl, its fangs bared, but before it could reach her, a sharp kick landed in its ribcage, sending it flying to the side. But hunger was too strong, and the werewolf sprang again, this time landing on top of Elara. It hesitated for a brief moment, its fear of the silver hair clear, but the bloodlust took over. With a savage snarl, it sank its teeth deep into her neck.
A roar of fury erupted from Darius as he surged forward. The moment he stood, the guards around him were sent flying, their bodies tossed aside as though they were nothing more than ragdolls. He didn't care for them. All that mattered was Elara.
He reached the werewolf in a flash, his chains wrapping around its neck, choking it as he pulled it off her. With a growl, he tossed the creature aside, leaving it for the others to handle. His focus was entirely on her now.
Dropping to his knees beside her, Darius gently cradled her head in his hands, his touch tender despite the fury raging within him. His other hand pressed firmly against the side of her neck, trying to staunch the flow of blood. Her eyes fluttered open and closed, her strength waning. He couldn't lose her—not again. "Hold on. Hold on," he whispered desperately, his voice thick with emotion.
But the moment was interrupted. Theron, cold and uncaring, stepped into the scene, barking orders to the guards. "Capture the lycan," he commanded, his tone dismissive of the desperate scene unfolding before him.
As Darius fought off the guards, his eyes never left Elara, his gaze locked with hers as he struggled to keep control. But before he could make another move, a figure emerged in Elara's fading vision—Theron. He knelt beside her, his voice commanding as he spoke the words that seemed to weigh her down. "Close your eyes."
Despite her pain, Elara's body obeyed, her eyelids growing heavy as the darkness closed in around her. Her vision blurred, and with a final, quiet gasp, she succumbed to the blackness, the pain in her body overwhelming her as she drifted into unconsciousness.