Chapter 22
They were supposed to be here to rescue Damian. But now, in the face of death, all Deborah could think about… was him coming back to save them.
She wondered, ‘Is that even possible?‘
She’d already thrown aside the tiny bow and arrows. Thomas had handed her a longsword, but she hadn’t even had the chance to use it–he’d been standing in front of her the entire time.
The other girls weren’t nearly as lucky.
“Ah!”
“I’m hurt! It hurts–someone help!”
The noble girls were scattering in every direction. The guards couldn’t hold the wolves back anymore. One by one, the girls were being injured- blood everywhere. Panic turned to full–blown despair, consuming everyone.
And then, something shifted.
A strange ripple of tension swept through the wolves. Their howls changed.
People began to notice–the pack was moving. They were breaking away, all running in the same direction.
Even the alpha was howling again, but this time it sounded different–sharper, like a warning.
“Look–it’s Prince Damian! It’s him!” someone shouted, and every head turned toward the direction the wolves were headed.
Through the mist, a lone figure stood tall, unyielding. He faced the oncoming pack like a mountain rooted to the earth. In his hand was a massive blade, its edge slick with blood.
As the wolves lunged, his arm swept through the air–several of them were sliced clean in half, their bodies twitching on the ground. Others, untouched by the blade, were knocked down by the sheer force of the strike.
One man. One blade. Standing alone in a sea of predators–advancing with every step.
His presence radiated a biting cold. He didn’t look human anymore–he looked like a war god risen from the underworld. Terrifying. And yet, no one could tear their eyes away.
“It is Prince Damian!”
At the sight of him, the girls collectively let out a breath of relief. If anyone in the entire kingdom could make them feel safe, it was him. With Damian here, it suddenly felt like they’d survive this after all.
Some tried to rush toward him–but the wolves still blocked the path.
The pack came at him in waves, lunging with everything they had, desperate to bring him down. But he didn’t falter. Every step he took left a trail of blood in the dirt. And still, he kept coming.
Wolves fell by the dozens. Blood stained the ground. It was a slaughter.
Then the alpha let out one last chilling howl. And just like that, the wolves stopped.
They hesitated for only a second before turning–grabbing their dead and injured–and fled into the woods. The entire pack… retreated.
He’d driven off a hundred wolves. Alone.
They were supposed to be the ones rescuing him. Somehow, it had turned into the other way around.
The young men looked on in awe, caught between reverence and fear. And the girls? They could barely breathe as Damian walked toward them.
Even Deborah had to admit–there wasn’t another man in the world like him. No one came close. But the look in his eyes right now…. it chilled her to the bone.
“Your Highness…” one girl murmured, eyes wide, ready to rush forward.
But the cold, hard air around him stopped her in her tracks. No one dared get too close.
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Chapter 22
+15.
He wasn’t someone you ran to. He was someone you revered. He didn’t belong to the world of ordinary people–he stood above it, untouchable. Dangerous.
“Your Highness!” Thomas ran up to him. “Are you hurt?”
Damian’s body was soaked in blood–whether his or the wolves‘, no one could tell.
He didn’t respond. He just kept walking–straight toward the crowd.
Deborah dropped her gaze, doing her best to disappear into the background.
་་་་་་
But those bloodstained boots stopped right in front of her. He’d come directly to her.
She sucked in a shaky breath, forced a nervous smile, and looked up. “Y–Your Highness… you’re okay, right?”
Damian gave a low, cold laugh. “And if I wasn’t–would you care?”
He leaned in suddenly, the chill of his presence pressing against her like a storm about to break.
“Tell me,” he said softly, voice razor–sharp, “were you really the only one who thought about running away–leaving me behind?”
