Chapter 15 Screams that Shatter
SCREAMS THAT SHATTER
Ididn’t know what was more shocking, that he had just declared me as being his Villain or that he was about to kiss me. My mind was in utter turmoil as his words merged and blurred the lines of his actions. However, before he could finally cross that barrier between us,
A scream shattered the air.
And this time…it wasn’t mine.
No, it came from somewhere deep within the house, a distant, echoing sound that was unmistakably human.
We broke apart, breathless at what had been about to happen, and both turned toward the sound. The silence that followed was suffocating, thick with dread and the fading ghost of what we’d just done.
“What was that?” I asked, my voice trembling.
He didn’t answer right away. His jaw was tight, his eyes shadowed. When he finally spoke, his tone was cold again, a wall snapping back into place.
“That, is the reason why I shouldn’t be doing this.” I sucked back a pained breath.
“Why?” I demanded, the word slipping out sharper than I intended. He hesitated, as if torn between leaving and telling me the truth. When he turned to go, I caught his arm, holding on.
“Tell me? I deserve to know,” I asked, my voice sounding more urgent. He looked down at where my hand gripped his sleeve, then back at me, his expression fractured. As if fury, guilt and longing were all warring in his eyes.
“You want to know why it’s wrong?” he said, his voice low.
“Because vengeance means more.” My breath caught as his words lanced through me. My hand dropped, and I stumbled back until my back hit my door.
“You…you don’t mean that.” I stammered, and the barest hint of guilt registered before his gaze hardened, but I could see the pain flickering beneath.
“Then you’re not just a villain…you’re also a fool.” After this, he turned abruptly and left, and with it, taking something with him.
What felt like a piece of my heart and all of my hope.
I wasn’t surprised when sleep refused to come.
Every time I closed my eyes, I felt it, the ghost of his touch that left me wanting. The pain of his cruel words made me glad I didn’t know the taste of his kiss. My heart still beat to the rhythm of every second of it. Every pulse was a reminder of what had happened…or what could have happened.
And then came that scream, like a disturbing reminder for him that what we were doing was wrong. Or at least…wrong for him.
Because for me, it had felt right.
It had felt real.
Since I’d come here, it felt as though I had been trapped in a constant battle between what was right and what was wrong.
Between what I should feel and what I couldn’t stop myself from feeling.
He had already confessed to me once, admitted there was something there, something he couldn’t quite deny.
And now, whether he was retreating from that truth or convincing himself that his revenge meant more, I didn’t know.
All I knew was that I could no longer hide from my own confession.
I was falling in love with him.
Against all reason, against all the warnings, against everything I thought I knew. I didn’t know when it began, or how it happened. It was simply there now, settled deep in my chest, a dangerous truth that refused to be ignored.
I felt drawn to him in a way that defied logic, an affinity that frightened me as much as it comforted me. There was something in his pain that spoke to my own, something in his torment that I understood. And I knew there was more to his story than what he had revealed.
More than the dagger.
More than simple revenge.
Part of me…perhaps the foolish part…believed that I could be the one to heal the rift between them. That I could somehow bring him and his brothers back together. That I could bridge the gap between hatred and forgiveness.
But guilt gnawed at me too. Guilt for the way I felt about him.
How could I fall for the enemy of the men I already loved? His brothers. The ones who had risked everything to keep me safe. The ones who would no doubt see him as the monster he claimed to be.
But what if they were wrong?
What if everyone was wrong?
What if the real villain in all this wasn’t a person, but a misunderstanding twisted by pride and pain?
I knew I loved Victor and Tal. And that love had come almost easily, like slipping into warmth after the cold.
Despite all that had happened between us, despite the horrors I’d endured, love with them had felt simple… pure even.
But with Vas… nothing was simple.
Every glance, every word, every breath between us was a struggle.
It was a battle he seemed to fight within himself.
I could see it every time he looked at me, as though he wanted to reach for me and stop himself all in the same heartbeat.
I wasn’t blind. I knew he felt something, no matter how much he denied it.
But something was holding him back. Something deeper, darker, and I couldn’t shake the thought that it had something to do with that scream I’d heard echo through the halls.
Was I not the only piece in his plan for revenge?
Was there someone else caught in his web of secrets?
Every time I thought I had reached him, that I had seen the man beneath the mask, it was like taking one step forward and two steps back. The moment I began to understand him, he would shut me out again.
And yet, even now, part of me knew that Victor and Tal must be out there somewhere, desperate to find me. I wondered if they knew who had taken me. If Vas had revealed himself to them. I imagined their fury, their grief, their heartbreak. Their cursed love…a love that was only real to me.
And still, shamefully, I wasn’t sure I was ready to be rescued.
Because despite everything, despite all the danger and confusion, a part of me didn’t want to leave him. Not yet. Not when every word, every look, every fragile piece of connection between us felt like something precious I hadn’t been meant to find.
But after tonight, I wasn’t sure there would be anything left to save.
It felt as though he had finally given up on me.
Because the second that scream had torn through the silence of the house like a blade through silk, it was like he had come to his senses.
A sound so chilling that, even now, it echoed in my mind.
He hadn’t explained. He had shut me out, left me standing there, breathless and confused, with nothing but questions clawing at my thoughts.
Who had screamed?
Why had it sounded so… human?
The storm outside hadn’t let up. Rain lashed against the windows, and the wind howled through the cracks like some ancient spirit demanding to be let in. But even beneath the storm’s fury, I could still swear I heard them. Faint cries carried on the wind, too mournful, too real to be imagined.
I lay there, staring up at the ornate canopy above my bed, the flicker of lightning spilling brief light across the room. Every shadow seemed to move, every creak of the old manor whispered a secret I wanted to discover, as if it was compelling me to go in search for it.
I pulled the blankets tighter, willing myself to stay put, to let morning bring answers. But the longer I lay there, the louder my thoughts became.
That scream.
That sound of pure agony.
The same sound, perhaps, that might have escaped my own lips not so long ago.
I sighed and pushed the blankets aside, swinging my legs out of bed.
My toes touched the cold floor, and the chill of it grounded me back in reality.
I hesitated for only a moment before pulling on a pair of socks and reaching for the lamp.
The warm light pooled across the room, soft and golden, painting comfort where I felt none.
There was no sense in pretending anymore.
I wasn’t going to sleep until I knew. The silence pressed in around me as I crossed the room and opened the door.
The handle was cold beneath my fingers, the faintest tremor running through me as the old hinges groaned in protest. The corridor beyond was dimly lit, the sconces flickering with low, dying flames that cast the long hallway in shades of bronze and shadow.
I stepped out.
The air felt colder here, heavier. My pajama top clung to my skin from the humidity, and I wrapped my arms around myself as I moved. Each step was careful, the soft pad of my socked feet swallowed by the ancient carpet beneath me.
I half expected him to appear from the shadows, his dark form materializing with that quiet intensity that always left me reeling. But there was nothing. No sound, no movement, only the low hum of the storm outside and the soft pulse of my heartbeat in my ears.
I swallowed and whispered to no one,
“What was that scream?” The words vanished into the stillness, unanswered, like everything else he left me with.
Lightning flashed again through the stained-glass windows ahead, momentarily flooding the hallway in fractured colour of crimson, gold, and blue.
Then the thunder followed, telling me the storm was right over us, rattling the walls and sending another shiver through me.
I tightened my arms around myself, taking a step forward.
Whatever that sound had been, whatever mysteries this house was keeping, I needed to know. Because until I did, I wasn’t sure which frightened me more. The storm outside, or the one I’d unknowingly stepped into the moment he forced his way into my dreams.
The manor was a labyrinth of shadows and whispers.
Every corridor looked the same, lined with portraits of forgotten ancestors staring down from gilded frames, their painted eyes gleaming in the lightning’s brief flashes.
The deeper I went, the heavier the air seemed to become, like the house itself didn’t want me wandering too far.
But curiosity had already won.
I told myself I was only trying to help, that maybe someone else was in trouble, that I wasn’t simply chasing the mystery that had wrapped itself around him since the night he took me. But that was a lie.
I needed to know what had made that sound.
My footsteps echoed softly as I made my way towards the east wing. The light from the sconces grew dimmer here, flickering as though the storm outside was trying to snuff them out. When I reached the hall that led into the unknown, I paused, uncertain of my decision.
Here it was…the east wing.
The side he told me never to enter.
My stomach tightened at the thought.
I remembered his words, that quiet warning spoken in the same tone he used when he wanted to command rather than ask. The wing that was off limits, private, forbidden. And now, the same wing that had echoed with that inhuman cry.
I hesitated, the weight of that unspoken boundary pressing down on me, but something within me, something stubborn and reckless, urged me forward.
If he didn’t want me there, there had to be a reason. And after everything that had happened, I wasn’t sure I could trust that his reason was protection.
Dust hung thick in the air, swirling lazily with each step I took.
The walls here were lined not with portraits but with dark wooden panels, their surfaces carved with strange symbols I didn’t recognize.
My fingertips brushed over one as I passed, tracing its grooves.
It was smooth, worn from touch, as though someone had done this before me.
A low creak sounded behind me.
I spun, my breath catching, but there was nothing there. Only shadows that stretched long and deep across the floor, bending and shifting with the next flash of lightning. I tried to tell myself it was only the house, only the wind, but my pulse didn’t slow.
The door at the end of the hallway stood slightly ajar, the faintest line of light spilling from within.
That had to be it.
Every instinct screamed at me to turn back, to go to bed and pretend I had never left my room, but the pull of that door was stronger than reason. I moved toward it, each step softer than the last, until I stood before it.
The light came from within, flickering, faintly golden, and for a moment I thought I heard movement. A whisper. A breath.
I pressed my hand against the door, hesitating.
“Hello?” My voice barely carried.
There was no answer, only silence. Then, something brushed against the edge of my senses, like the air itself shifting. A coldness that wasn’t natural, that felt as though the shadows themselves had begun to stir. And then came the sound again. Not a scream this time, but a low, shuddering sob.
It came from behind the door.
My heart lodged in my throat, and before I could stop myself, I pushed it open.
The hinges groaned softly, and the room revealed itself in the flicker of candlelight. It wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t some ritual chamber or forbidden study, but a bedroom, vast and heavy with silence. The air felt wrong here too. A stillness that felt wrong.
Moonlight filtered weakly through the tall windows, its glow catching on the dust that drifted lazily in the air. A large four-poster bed dominated the room, its dark curtains drawn tightly closed, concealing whatever lay within.
That was when I heard it.
A wet, gurgling sound, low and rhythmic, like someone drinking or worse… feeding. The sound turned my stomach, each slurp echoing through the stillness, yet I couldn’t stop myself from taking a step closer. Curiosity wrestled with fear, and fear was losing.
I reached the edge of the bed, my trembling fingers hovering just inches from the heavy curtain. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I drew in a breath and whispered,
“Hello?”
No answer. Only that same sound.
I swallowed hard and reached forward, pulling at the curtain. But before I could move it aside, a hand shot out of the darkness, seizing mine in an iron grip.
I gasped, my breath catching as I turned and froze.
It was him.
Vas.
But not the version of him I had come to know, not the stoic mask of control or even the reluctant protector. His mask was gone, and for the first time, I saw the full truth of what he was. The darkness wasn’t just around him.
It was him!
It crawled up one side of his face like a living shadow, half consuming his features, half revealing the man beneath. His eyes burned with something inhuman, raw and hungry, and for one suspended moment, I couldn’t breathe.
Then I screamed.
I tore my hand free, stumbling backwards as his name broke from my throat, but before I could say another word, a laugh filled the room.
High-pitched, cold, and cruel.
A sound I knew.
The witch’s cackle.
It danced through the air like madness made sound, and the candlelight flickered violently, throwing monstrous shapes across the walls. The candlelight trembled as if disturbed by a breath, though the air was utterly still.
And then, right next to me, the demon broke through the silence.
“I warned you not to come here.”
“I…I…” I stammered in cold, hard fear when his eyes started to glow crimson this time, as he issued one last warning…
“Run, little blood rabbit.”