Chapter 139
Chloe's POV
The war chariot raced through the blizzard, its wheels grinding over packed snow with muffled thuds. I gripped the edge of the carriage so tightly my knuckles turned bone-white. My body was still weak, the damaged meridians sending sharp pains from my chest radiating through my limbs, but I couldn't care about any of that.
"Faster," I urged hoarsely. "Please, faster."
Walter sat beside me while the Frostwolf Guard warriors drove the chariot at full speed through the snow. The storm was fierce, but it couldn't suppress the anxiety burning inside me. Every second of delay felt like a knife twisting in my heart—Ivan was still in that hell shrouded by dark magic, fighting alone against two witches and endless undead puppets.
Suddenly, a soul-tearing agony struck.
I instinctively clutched at the mark on my neck, where I heard a crisp shattering sound only mates could perceive. The scorching soul bond that had tied Ivan and me together turned cold and dim in an instant. It hadn't broken completely, but it had weakened to a thread, as if it might vanish entirely at any moment.
"No—"
I let out a piercing cry of grief. The hollow emptiness of losing half my soul nearly suffocated me, the entire world spinning before my eyes. My wolf howled in the depths of my consciousness, frantically trying to reach Ivan through that crumbling bond, only to feel distant nothingness and deathly silence.
"Chloe!" Walter grabbed my shoulders roughly. "What's happening?"
I couldn't answer. Tears blurred my vision, my throat producing only broken sobs. I trembled as I pressed against my chest, where it felt empty, as if someone had carved out a piece of flesh with a blade.
He was dying.
My mate, the father of my child, was slipping away from me.
"Faster..." I shook, my face deathly pale. "Please, faster! He... he can't hold on..."
Walter's expression turned grave immediately. Without further questions, he turned and shouted at the driver, "Full speed! At any cost!"
The chariot accelerated again, nearly flying over the snow. I bit down hard on my lip, using the pain to force myself to stay conscious. I couldn't collapse, not now. Ivan needed me. I had to reach him.
Finally, the Silver Moon reinforcements broke through the last layer of storm.
The Thunder Pack's main manor came into view, but the scene before us left everyone stunned—the fierce battle we'd expected hadn't happened. The black magic barrier had vanished, the estate was silent as death, without even a trace of combat.
"Stop!" I jumped from the chariot the moment it halted, stumbling toward the great hall.
I shoved the doors open violently. What greeted me wasn't carnage and bodies, but—emptiness.
The once-bustling wedding venue, the pack members controlled by dark magic, my father Tyler as a puppet, and Ivan at the storm's center—all had vanished without a trace. Only chaos remained: overturned tables and chairs, shattered wine glasses, scorched floorboards, and the heavy stench of dark magic lingering in the air.
"Ivan!" I ran frantically through the empty manor, shouting. "Ivan! Father! Frank!"
I pushed open door after door, bursting into every room, but received no response. The entire estate seemed to have been plucked up by a giant hand and carried away, leaving me alone searching futilely through these ruins.
Walter and the Frostwolf Guard rushed in as well, spreading out to search every corner. But soon, everyone gathered back in the hall, their faces filled with confusion and bewilderment.
"No one," a warrior reported. "Not a single living soul in the entire manor."
I collapsed to my knees, my hands pressed against the floor, my nails digging into the cracks between the wooden planks. Impossible. This couldn't be. Ivan was still alive—I could feel him, though the bond had weakened to the point of being barely perceptible, it was still there. He was still alive.
"Chloe." Walter crouched down, speaking softly. "You need to calm down. We need to figure out what happened."
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and forced my mind to function again. Walter was right—breaking down now wouldn't solve anything. I had to find clues. I had to find Ivan.
I stood up and followed the remaining traces of battle outside. Scorched footprints, congealed blood, scattered weapon fragments—all leading toward the back of the manor. I followed these traces to the cliff at the rear mountain.
There were signs of violent struggle—chaos everywhere, several trees snapped in half, deep claw marks scored into the rocks at the cliff's edge.
Then I saw it—a broken, notched old longsword.
Frank's weapon, which he never left behind.
I picked up the broken sword with trembling hands. The blade still held residual warmth, its edge stained with dried blood. Beside the sword were only deep drag marks extending to the abyss, but no sign of anyone.
"No..." I murmured. "No, no, no..."
Had Uncle Frank met with disaster too? The man who took me in when I was most desperate, who taught Ivan how to fight, who should have been holding his grandson and enjoying family happiness...
I knelt at the cliff's edge, clutching the broken sword tightly. Its sharp edge cut into my palm, blood dripping onto the ground, blooming into vivid red flowers.
"Why..." I demanded of the empty canyon. "Moon Goddess, why are you so cruel?"
The wind and snow howled past, offering no answer.
I tried to call out to Ivan through that fragile mate bond. I closed my eyes, concentrating all my consciousness on that crumbling thread, desperately shouting his name, yearning for even the slightest response.
But I was met only with deathly silence and unreachable emptiness.
That sense of helplessness transformed my frantic shouting into quiet pleading. I knelt there, begging the void: "Ivan, please... please answer me... just once... let me know you're still alive..."
Still silence.
I curled up, instinctively protecting my abdomen. Our child was there, our Kane. He was the only proof Ivan had left in this world, the only hope I had remaining.
"You promised me..." I murmured, tears streaming down my face. "You said you'd live for me and the child... you said you'd watch Kane grow up... you promised..."
Walter stood silently behind me. He said nothing, just quietly watching this girl who had just lost everything. As an observer, he deduced from the residual spatial magic traces at the scene—this was large-scale transportation magic. The people had been taken away, most likely to Blood River territory.
Pursuing them into Blood River's heartland now would be suicide. Moreover, my condition was on the verge of collapse—damaged meridians combined with emotional turmoil, I was bleeding, the cold was draining my life force, and the child in my womb was in grave danger.
He stepped forward, removed his fur cloak, and gently draped it over me. Then he crouched down, his voice firm yet gentle: "Chloe, you can't stay here. For the child, for Ivan's bloodline, you must live."
I stared at him with empty eyes, as if my soul had departed with Ivan.
Walter sighed and lifted my lifeless form into his arms. I didn't struggle or resist, just mechanically clutched the bloodstained broken sword, allowing him to carry me away from this place of sorrow.
"Take her back to Silver Moon," Walter ordered his subordinates. "From this day forward, she is under my protection."
The war chariot slowly started moving through the wind and snow. Through the gaps in the carriage, I took one last look toward Thunder Canyon. That had once been my home, the place where Ivan and I met and fell in love, where we dreamed of our future together.
Now, it was just an empty tomb.
I closed my eyes and clutched the broken sword tighter. Ivan, wherever you are, whether you're alive or dead, I will survive. I will protect our child, I will bring Kane safely into this world.
This is my final promise to you.