Chapter 349

It occurs to Blanca that they were going to die here, not at the hands of the vampire patrol or the hands of the bitch, but the hands of the frigid weather. They, on the other hand, keep going. Slowly. As she walks, she puts one foot in front of the other, her face now red with frostbite, her arms hurting from clenching Selvo, and her feet in distress as the sleet seeps into her shoes. Within minutes, the snow was falling harder and the harsher wind continued to bite Selvo, who was mumbling some expletives and appearing delirious. Blanca, on the other hand, couldn't keep doing this.

She couldn't keep stepping on Selvo's pity any longer. She couldn't keep him in her arms either. It was a direct route to hell. Perhaps she had passed away already.