CHAPTER 0010

Underworld 

I sat by Venneca's side, my heart in a vice grip of anguish and fear. 

Every second seemed to stretch into eternity, each breath I took feeling like a desperate plea for her to wake up. 

Her fragile form lay beneath a warm red blanket, the only sign of life being the gentle rise and fall of her chest. 

To the outside world, she appeared to be merely asleep, but to me, it felt like the edge of a dark abyss, staring into the void of her potential loss.

The room around us was a sanctuary of quiet desperation. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm, but insufficient, light over her pale face. 

Shadows danced along the walls, a silent testament to the hours I had spent here, unmoving. I had not left her side for six hours, not even to stretch my aching limbs or to let sleep claim me. 

Every second of her stillness felt like a painful reminder of the battle we had faced and the heavy toll it had taken on her fragile body.

My hand clutched hers with a desperate grip, as if holding on to her was the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. 

The warmth of her hand was a cruel contrast to the cold terror gripping my heart.

I had failed to protect her from the dangers that lurked in the dark corners of our world, and now I was trapped in a purgatory of my own making, waiting for her to return to me.

I shouldn't have let her come along with me.. but her smile, her cute begging, her Excitement in her voice and eyes..

It was so fucking adorable, how could i resist?..

She laid in my bed so peacefully like she was sleeping.. only sleeping and nothing else. 

She had to wake up, she had to be fine. She would NOT leave me alone! I won't give her a chance! Just please.. 

...wake up..

. . . 

A gentle knock on the door broke the silence, and Asmodeus entered with an expression of deep, solemn concern. 

His eyes softened slightly as he took in the sight of me—exhausted, worried, and utterly defeated. I could see the guilt etched in his features, a stark contrast to his usually indifferent demeanor.

"Hey…" His voice was barely a whisper as he approached, his steps slow and measured.

"What…" I growled, my voice rough and strained from the hours of silent torment. 

My gaze was sharp, and he flinched slightly under the weight of my anger and fear.

Asmodeus hesitated, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Father is calling you…" he said softly, almost apologetically.

My heart sank further at the thought of leaving her alone. The idea of stepping away from her side, even for a moment, was unbearable. 

But I knew I had no choice. I had to deal with my father's demands before I could return to Venneca.

"I'll take care of her while you're gone," Asmodeus promised, his voice firm and sincere. "I swear on my life."

His words offered a sliver of comfort, but the worry for Venneca's well-being gnawed at me relentlessly. 

I cast one last, lingering glance at her serene face, hoping with every fiber of my being that she would open her eyes and tell me everything was going to be okay.

With a heavy sigh, I rose from the chair, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

The touch was tender, filled with the depth of my unspoken fears and hopes. I slowly walked out of the room, the weight of each step feeling like an eternity.

Descending the stairs, I was engulfed by a sea of conflicting emotions. My wolf side's voice echoed in my mind, its tone both pained and resolute. "You love her as much as I do.. don't you?"

The words struck a chord, causing me to falter mid-step. My mind was a tumult of confusion and anger. 

I paused, struggling to reconcile my emotions. "I…" I began, but the words eluded me. "Shut up," I whispered harshly, forcing myself to continue walking.

The throne room loomed ahead, a place of power and authority that felt alien to me in my current state of turmoil. 

My father sat upon the throne, his presence commanding and intimidating. I approached with a simmering anger, my mind focused solely on Venneca and her fate.

"What do you want? I am fucking busy, old hag—" I began, my voice laced with frustration.

"You took that human with you, didn't you?" he interrupted, his tone clipped and accusatory.

The question was like a punch to the gut, and I fell silent. My gaze fixed on him, my anger bubbling just below the surface. He knew. He knew everything.

"Look, I—" I started, but he cut me off again.

"I told you to get rid of that girl. She is not worth it, son. Get rid of her, or I will," he growled, his voice cold and devoid of empathy.

The words were like a dagger to my heart. My eyes widened with a surge of protective fury.

"Don't. You. Fucking DARE. To touch her," I spat, my voice a low, dangerous growl. 

My eyes burned with an uncontainable rage, glowing a fierce, ominous red.

My father's gaze shifted, a flicker of something akin to fear crossing his features. 

He stared at me, speechless, his usual air of control slipping. "Son…" he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

I didn't give him a chance to continue. "Touch her, and I will burn. you. to. ashes," I growled with a deep, resonant ferocity that seemed to shake the very air around us. 

My voice was a promise of destruction, a vow of unrelenting vengeance.

He flinched visibly, his confidence shattered. I turned on my heel, giving him one final, contemptuous glance before storming out of the throne room. 

My father's presence, his words, and his threats were inconsequential compared to the life I was desperate to protect.

All that mattered now was Venneca. Her survival was the only thing that consumed my thoughts. 

My world had narrowed to her fragile form, and I was determined to fight for her with every ounce of strength I had left. 

The weight of my father's demands, the political machinations, and the looming threats all seemed distant and irrelevant in the face of the battle I had to win—the battle for Venneca's life.

. . .

I left the throne room, the heavy burden of my father's demands weighing down on me like an anchor. 

Every step I took felt leaden, as though the very ground beneath me was conspiring to hold me back from the one person who mattered most. 

My thoughts were a chaotic storm, each one centered on Venneca and her fragile state.

As I walked down the hallways, the grandeur of the mansion seemed to blur into a haze of opulence and indifference. 

The intricate tapestries on the walls, the gleaming chandeliers casting their cold light—none of it registered. 

My mind was solely focused on reaching Venneca, praying with every fiber of my being that she was still holding on.

But then, an insidious voice broke through my thoughts, a voice that was both mine and not mine. "Her breath is getting slower," my wolf's voice echoed in my mind, its tone laced with a deep, primal dread. 

The realization hit me like a thunderclap. My heart lurched, a sharp pain stabbing through me as my wolf's words sank in.

My eyes widened in horror, and tears began to spill down my face, hot and relentless. 

Fuck! Fuck! No..no..no no no no

The world around me seemed to crumble, my vision blurring with the mix of fear and despair. I could feel my chest tightening, my breath coming in ragged gasps as the gravity of the situation bore down on me. 

The thought of losing her, of her slipping away from me, was unbearable. I had fought so hard, faced so many dangers, and yet here I was, powerless to stop her from fading away.

Without another thought, I broke into a run, my footsteps pounding against the polished floors with a desperate urgency. 

The grand hallways, with their ornate decorations and majestic grandeur, seemed to stretch endlessly before me, each turn and corridor a potential obstacle to my frantic rush. 

The opulence of the mansion, once so impressive, now felt like a cruel mockery of my agony.

My heart raced as I sprinted down the corridor, my breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps. The walls seemed to close in, their grandeur now a prison of my own making. 

The air was thick with the scent of old wood and expensive perfume, but it was tainted with the acrid tang of fear that hung heavily in my chest. 

Each second felt like an eternity, the slow, torturous march towards the room where Venneca lay feeling like the longest journey of my life.

My mind was a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions. The fear of losing her consumed me, a relentless tide pulling me under. 

My eyes darted ahead, searching for the familiar door, the threshold to the room where my heart lay vulnerable. 

The sound of my pounding footsteps echoed through the hall, a desperate metronome marking the passage of time.

As I neared the door, a wave of dread washed over me. The sight of the door seemed to mock my frantic effort, its mere presence a reminder of how close I was to losing everything. 

My hand trembled as I reached the door, my heart pounding so loudly I could barely hear my own thoughts.

I threw the door open with a force fueled by desperation, and the sight that greeted me was both a relief and a torment. 

There she was, lying in the bed, her face still serene but her breathing faint and shallow. 

The sight of her vulnerability was almost too much to bear. Every muscle in my body felt like lead, my heartache and a physical presence pressing down on me.

I moved quickly to her side, my heart in my throat. I sank into the chair beside her, my hands trembling as I reached out to touch her. 

The warmth of her hand against mine was a bittersweet comfort, a reminder of the life that was slipping away from me.

My voice was barely more than a whisper, choked with the weight of my emotions.

I pressed my forehead against hers, my tears mingling with the faint warmth of her skin. At that moment, everything else ceased to exist. 

The world outside, the threats, the demands—they were all irrelevant. 

All that mattered was her, and the desperate hope that she would hear me and find the strength to fight for her own life.

I leaned closer, my breath warm against her ear, and whispered, "I fucking love you, Venneca…"

. . .