Chapter 310

Chapter 310
【Elsa POV】

The silence stretches on, thick and suffocating in our cramped stone hiding spot. My heart hammers against my ribs as we wait, pressed against the damp walls like shadows. When the footsteps finally fade completely, Leif straightens and moves toward the heavy wooden door.

"We need to keep moving," he whispers, his hand resting on the iron latch. "Whoever that was, they might come back."

I don't like this, Freyja's voice echoes in my mind. The air here reeks of old blood and despair.

I swallow hard, pushing down the nausea rising in my throat. She's right—there's something deeply wrong with this place, something that makes my skin crawl.

Leif carefully pushes the door open, checking both directions before stepping out. "Clear," he mouths silently.

We follow him into what looks like a dungeon corridor, and immediately I understand Freyja's revulsion. The hallway stretches before us, lined with heavy stone doors on either side. Each cell has a small glass window at eye level, and the smell of human waste and fear hits me like a physical blow.

"What the hell is this place?" Karl mutters under his breath, his weapon ready as he scans the corridor.

I approach one of the windows, my legs feeling like lead. Inside, a figure sits slumped against the far wall on a pile of rotting straw. It's a man, probably middle-aged, though it's hard to tell through the grime. His eyes stare at nothing, completely vacant, and his neck is covered in fresh puncture wounds alongside dozens of old scars.

"Oh god," I whisper, stumbling backward.

Edda grabs my arm to steady me. "Elsa, don't—"

"Look at the next one," I say, my voice barely audible.

In the neighboring cell, a woman lies curled in the corner, her breathing shallow and labored. Like the man, she shows no awareness of our presence, no spark of recognition that help might be at hand. They're alive, but barely—human shells drained of everything that once made them who they were.

"They're feeding sources," I manage, bile rising in my throat. "They've been kept here so long they're completely broken."

Leif's fists clench at his sides. "Fucking monsters," he growls. "We'll come back for them. After we deal with the bastard who did this."

Karl points toward the end of the corridor. "That door leads up. Main level, probably."

We move as quietly as possible along the stone passage, but our footsteps still echo in the oppressive silence. The door ahead is thick oak reinforced with iron bands. It hangs slightly ajar, as if someone left in a hurry.

Leif reaches for the handle, then freezes as footsteps sound from the other side.

The door swings open, and a young woman steps through, carrying a wooden tray with simple food and a water pitcher. She has light blonde hair pulled back in a messy braid, but what catches my attention are her eyes—they hold a fervent gleam.

For a heartbeat, we all stare at each other in shocked silence.

Then the tray crashes to the stone floor with a deafening clatter. Bread, cheese, and water scatter across the ground as ceramic shards fly in every direction.

"No, no, no!" the woman gasps, her face going white with terror.

"Grab her!" Leif shouts.

But she's already spinning away, her bare feet sure and quick on the familiar stone. She bolts through the doorway and up what sounds like stairs beyond, moving with the confidence of someone who knows every inch of this place.

"Shit!" Karl curses, lunging after her.

Leif is right behind him, their boots pounding on stone as they give chase. Edda, Freyja, and I follow, bursting through the wooden door into the main level of the castle.

The space that opens before us is breathtaking in its decay. We're standing in a vast stone hall with soaring ceilings that disappear into shadows above. Tattered tapestries hang from the walls, their colors long since faded. An enormous iron chandelier dominates the center of the room, but most of its candles have burned down to stubs, leaving everything bathed in dim, flickering light.

"This place is huge," Edda breathes, looking around in awe.

The blonde woman races across the flagstone floor toward another massive door on the far side of the hall. Her cloak billows behind her as she runs, and I can hear her panicked breathing echoing in the vast space.

"Please, please, please," she mutters frantically, digging in her pockets.

She produces an old iron key but her hands shake so badly she can't get it into the lock. The key scrapes against the metal, missing the keyhole again and again.

"Come on!" she sobs in frustration.

Leif and Karl are closing in fast, their longer strides eating up the distance. Just as the woman finally manages to line up the key, Karl's arm snakes around her waist from behind.

"Got you," he says grimly.

"No!" she screams, thrashing in his grip. "Let me go! He'll be so angry if—"

Karl's hand clamps over her mouth, cutting off her words. She struggles for a moment longer, then goes limp in his arms, her eyes wide with panic above his fingers.

"Good catch," Leif says, slightly out of breath. He bends to retrieve the fallen key from where it clattered to the floor.

Walking over to me, he presses the cold iron into my palm. "Here. Keep this safe."

Leif jerks his head back toward where we came from. "We need to question her somewhere secure," he says quietly. "Too exposed out here."

Karl nods, adjusting his grip on the woman. "Back to our hidey-hole?"

"Yeah. Move."

We retreat through the wooden door, back down to the dungeon corridor, and into the small storage room where this all started. Once we're inside with the door closed, Karl finally releases his hand from the woman's mouth.

She immediately scrambles away from us, pressing herself into the corner where moss grows thick on the damp stone walls. Her whole body shakes as she stares at us with those eyes.

"Who are you people?" she whispers, her voice trembling. "How did you get in here? This is impossible!"

Leif steps forward, and I can see his Alpha authority radiating from every line of his body. His voice, when he speaks, carries unmistakable command.

"How many people are in this castle? Where is your master?"

The change in the woman's expression at the mention of her master is immediate and disturbing. The fear doesn't leave, but it's joined by something else—a kind of sick devotion.

"There's just me," she says, and her voice actually grows stronger, more confident. "Me and the two food sources down in the cells. My master has gone out, but he'll be back very soon."

The way she says 'master' carries an almost religious reverence.

She's completely under his control, Freyja observes darkly. Look at her eyes when she talks about him.

"When exactly will he return?" Leif presses, his tone growing more dangerous.

The woman's smile is utterly chilling. "Soon," she repeats, and there's actual joy in her voice. "And when he does, you'll all pay for this intrusion. No one enters the Master's domain uninvited. No one."