# Chapter 256:

# Chapter 256:
Melinda's POV

I released another pulse of energy, watching with a mix of wonder and fear as the remaining guards slumped to the ground unconscious. This power still felt foreign in my body—electric and wild—but I was grateful for it now.

"We need to move," I whispered, meeting Michael's eyes.

Without another word, we sprinted across the lawn, our feet barely making a sound on the damp grass. I felt perfectly in sync with Michael as we navigated between the fallen guards, heading toward the mansion's grounds. My heart hammered against my ribs, partly from exertion but mostly from fear. I had no idea how long my strange ability would keep the guards unconscious, and Selena might already know we were here.

Michael squeezed my hand. "We need to be quick," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "Your power might attract other werewolves' attention."

We skirted the main entrance, searching for a less obvious way in. The imposing stone structure loomed above us, windows dark and unwelcoming. After circling halfway around the mansion, Michael pulled me toward a corner where thick ivy obscured part of the wall.

"There," he whispered, pointing to what appeared to be a small wooden door almost completely hidden by the climbing vines.

We exchanged an apprehensive glance before Michael carefully pushed aside the foliage. The weathered door looked ancient, its hinges rusted and wood splintered with age. Michael turned the iron handle, wincing at the faint creak as it opened. Beyond lay a steep staircase descending into darkness.

"Not the main entrance then," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite my racing pulse.

Michael closed the door behind us, plunging us into near-total darkness save for the dim light filtering through cracks in the old wood. The staircase was narrow and treacherous, each step slick with moisture. The air felt thick with age, carrying the same musty scent I remembered from the basement archives in Pine Ridge University's library.

My hand trailed along the cold stone wall for balance as we descended. At the bottom, the passage opened into a large, cavernous room. I pulled out my phone and switched on the flashlight, illuminating what appeared to be an old root cellar—until the light revealed the true nature of our surroundings.

"Oh my God," I breathed, taking in the walls lined with weapons.

Racks of gleaming firearms stood alongside ancient-looking swords and daggers. One section displayed what appeared to be ceremonial knives with ornate handles. But what caught my attention were the numerous silver weapons—blades, arrows, and even bullets carefully arranged in glass cases.

"These weapons..." I whispered, "so many of them are silver."

Michael approached one of the displays, reaching for a long silver sword. He tested its edge with his thumb, his expression darkening.

"Shit, it's razor-sharp," he muttered. "This could kill any werewolf with barely a scratch."

"Put it back," I urged, sudden unease washing over me. "We need to get out of here. These things make me nervous."

I watched Michael reluctantly return the blade to its stand, my mind racing. The prophecy haunted me—the twin wolves, one destined to fall so the other could truly live. Standing in this arsenal filled with weapons that could kill werewolves made that vision feel terrifyingly real.

My heart ached with the weight of what might lie ahead. I hoped Bob was right that nobody needed to die, but deep down, I feared my confrontation with Selena would end in blood. I couldn't let Michael stop me if that moment came—I'd do whatever necessary to protect him and everyone else I loved.

We moved quietly through the arsenal, discovering several tunnel entrances branching from the main chamber.

"Hey, do these tunnels run under the entire mansion?" I asked, peering down one of the dark passages.

Michael nodded, running his hand along the rough stone wall. "Probably. It makes sense; the first werewolf royal family that built this place would have installed escape routes. This is likely how your father and Selena escaped when the Full Moon Pack tried to assassinate you the night your mother was killed."

I felt sick at the mention of that night—my mother dead, myself stolen by the Full Moon Pack, my father and Selena escaping through these very tunnels. It seemed impossibly distant from my life as a medical student at Pine Ridge, yet somehow also eerily familiar.

We chose the widest tunnel and began making our way forward. The passage was low-ceilinged and damp, forcing Michael to hunch slightly as we walked. My flashlight cast eerie shadows on the walls, and every sound—our footsteps, our breathing—seemed amplified in the enclosed space.

Michael broke the silence, his voice gentle. "It'll be okay. We'll find her, and we'll end this."

I nodded. "Yes, I trust you."

"Good. Tonight, all you need to do is trust me. I won't let anything happen to you."

He took the flashlight from my hand and led us deeper into the tunnel. I followed, trying to find comfort in his words, but Bob's warning echoed in my mind too. Could we really resolve this without bloodshed? Or was I being naive to even hope for that?

After what seemed like an eternity of walking, we reached the end of the tunnel. A wooden door stood before us, and Michael cautiously pushed it open. Beyond it lay darkness, but as we stepped through, I could sense we were in an enormous space.

Michael motioned for me to stay quiet as he moved the flashlight beam around. The light revealed we were in some kind of grand banquet hall. The ceiling soared high above us, massive crystal chandeliers hanging motionless in the still air. Moonlight filtered through stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the marble floor.

"The banquet hall," Michael whispered. "Makes sense that there'd be a tunnel entrance here. Assassins love parties—too much chaos."

I shivered at the thought, imagining the kind of horror that could unfold in a place like this.

My attention was drawn to the walls, where elaborate murals stretched from floor to ceiling. I moved closer, transfixed by the scenes depicted there.

The first showed humans and enormous wolves running together beneath a full moon. Some humans rode on the backs of wolf-men, carrying weapons, appearing to be allies. It reminded me of the stories Michael had told me about ancient times when werewolves and humans lived in harmony.

The second mural showed a violent shift—humans attacking wolves, one man driving a spear through a wolf's chest while standing triumphantly on its head. The remaining wolves scattered into forests. The hatred in the painted man's face reminded me uncomfortably of Jared's expression when he talked about werewolves.

The third depicted wolves moving through a forest in a solemn procession, seeming to follow a faint light. It made me think of the protected forest surrounding Pine Ridge University.

The fourth mural was different—or rather, what remained of it. The painting had been violently torn apart, leaving only ragged edges and indistinct colors.

"The fourth mural was destroyed during the Full Moon attack twenty years ago," a female voice said from behind us. "It was a tragic night. I lost my mother... and my sister."

My phone slipped from my hand, clattering against the marble floor as I spun around. My heart sank when I saw her standing there.

"Selena," I whispered.