Chapter 78 Fools are taken
Lord Cassian
The engine of my SUV hummed like a caged beast as I tore down the dark highway, leaving my blood-soaked house behind.
It was past midnight, the kind of hour where even shadows seemed to whisper secrets. Snowflakes smacked against the windshield, melting into streaks that blurred the world outside.
My hands gripped the wheel tight, knuckles white, rings biting into my skin. Every mile I drove east felt like a step deeper into madness, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care. The hunger inside me—the real, gnawing kind—pushed me forward.
It wasn’t just about the stolen gold anymore. That was the spark, sure, but the fire? That was something older, deeper. A void that had been eating at me for centuries.
Power. That’s what I craved. Raw, unfiltered power. The kind that makes kings kneel and alphas beg.
Vuk Kael Lasković? Yeah, he was part of it. That devil bastard sat on his throne, knot-deep in his lunar mate, breeding heirs like it was nothing. He had everything—fear, loyalty, an empire that stretched across the North.
And me? I was always in his shadow, scraping for scraps, buying slaves and oracles to claw my way up. But this theft? It stripped me bare. Showed me how fragile my grip really was.
No more.
I’d burn it all down if I had to. I’d take his throne, his mate, his everything.
But first, I’d feed this hunger. Get those fox eyes. Make Celeste see. And then… rise.
The road twisted through frozen hills, the kind where wolves howled in the distance and the air smelled like impending death. Hours ticked by—two, three, four. My eyes burned from staring at the endless black, but sleep wasn’t an option.
Memories clawed at my mind, fueling the rage. I remembered my youth, centuries ago, when I was nothing but a low-born wolf in a pack that chewed up the weak. I’d killed my way out—brothers, rivals, even my own sire. Blood on my hands, power in my veins.
But it was never enough. Always someone stronger, like Vuk.
That hunger started then, a pit in my stomach that no amount of gold or flesh could fill. Now, with my vaults empty, it roared louder than ever.
I needed more. I deserved more.
Dawn was still far off when the marshes appeared on the horizon—a sprawling mess of fog and rot. The air turned thick, heavy with the scent of decay and magic.
I pulled off the main road into a muddy clearing, tires sinking into the soft earth. My hunters—ten of them, hand-picked for their brute strength and blind obedience—jumped out of the trucks trailing me. They looked nervous, eyes darting at the swirling mist.
Good. Fear kept them sharp.
“Form up,” I barked, slamming my door shut. The cold hit me like a slap, but I ignored it. “This is fox demon territory. They don’t fight fair—they seduce, trick, drain you dry. You hold this spot. Guard the vehicles. If any of you are dumb enough to wander off or let them lure you in, that’s on you. I won’t waste time saving idiots.”
Garr, the biggest of them, stepped forward. His scar-twisted face gleamed under the headlights.
“My lord, how long?”
“Until I’m back.” I slung my pack over my shoulder—knife, vials, chains. “If demons come, fight. Die if you have to. Just keep them busy.”
They nodded, gripping their weapons: silver blades that hummed with wards, crossbows loaded with poison.
I didn’t tell them the full plan. They were bait. Fox demons hunted in packs. If my men drew the swarm, it’d give me space to take down one alone.
Sacrifices for the greater good—my good.
I plunged into the marshes without looking back. The fog swallowed me whole, thick and clammy, like breathing through wet cloth. My boots sank into muck with every step, sucking sounds echoing in the silence.
Trees loomed like skeletons, branches twisting overhead. Vines dangled low, brushing my face like fingers. The air buzzed with whispers—faint laughs, sighs that could be wind or something worse.
Fox demons were masters of illusion. They’d appear as lovers, lost children, anything to draw you in. Then they’d feed on your life force, leaving you a husk.
But I wasn’t afraid. The hunger made me bold. Stupid, maybe, but bold.
I pictured Celeste’s face when I handed her the eyes—gratitude turning to fear, then obedience. She’d give me the thief’s name. The prophecy. And with that, I’d strike. Overthrow Vuk. Claim the North.
The thought sent a thrill through me, hotter than any omega’s heat.
Power wasn’t just about gold or thrones. It was about control. Making the world bend.
And I’d been bending too long.
Deeper in, the ground turned soggier, water up to my knees. My wolf senses sharpened—ears pricking at every rustle, nose twitching for scents beyond the rot.
Something sweet cut through it: flowers, musk, desire.
A trap.
I slowed, hand on my knife.
Then she emerged from the mist like a vision. Beautiful. Dangerous. Red hair flowing like liquid fire, skin glowing pale under a thin, wet dress that hugged every curve. Her eyes—sharp green, slanted like a predator’s—locked on mine. Lips curved in a smile that promised sin.
“Stranger,” she purred, voice wrapping around me like silk. “You look lost. Or… hungry.”
I stopped. Let my gaze linger on her body, playing the fool. Inside, my mind raced. Fox spirit. Nine-tailer, maybe. They always started with seduction.
“Hungry? Yeah. For a lot of things.” I stepped closer, forcing a grin. Let her think she had me hooked.
She laughed, a sound like chimes in the wind. “The marshes eat the unwary. But I can guide you. Show you pleasures you’ve only dreamed of.” Her fingers trailed down her arm, drawing my eyes. “What’s a powerful wolf like you seeking here? Treasure? Power? Or something… warmer?”
I let her words wash over me. The hunger twisted—part rage, part lust. But I controlled it.
“Power,” I said, voice low. “Always power.”
She smiled wider, stepping close enough that her scent flooded me—intoxicating, making my blood heat. “I can give you that. Come with me.” She turned, hips swaying, glancing back with those green eyes.
I followed. Deeper into the swamp. Mud pulled at my boots, but I kept up.
She talked—teasing whispers about hidden secrets, forbidden ecstasies. “Men come here broken,” she said. “I make them whole. For a price.” Her hand brushed mine, sending sparks.
My body reacted, traitorously hard, but my mind stayed ice-cold.
This was the game. Let her reel me in.
We reached a clearing—a ring of gnarled trees around a black pool. Moonlight filtered through the fog, casting eerie glows.
She pressed against me, body soft and warm. “Now, wolf. Tell me your desires.” Her lips grazed my neck, breath hot.
I let her kiss me. Deep. Hungry. Her tongue danced, tasting like spice and lies. Hands roamed my chest. She moaned, grinding closer.
“Give in,” she whispered. “Let me feed your hunger.”
That’s when I snapped.
My thumbs drove into her eyes—hard, fast. She screamed, a wail that shredded the night. Blood spurted hot over my fingers. She clawed my arms, nails ripping flesh.
“Traitor!” she howled, voice warping to something beastly.
We fought. She shifted—fur bursting, nine tails whipping like lashes. One wrapped my leg, squeezing bone-crack tight. Pain exploded, but the hunger fueled me.
I slammed her down, mud splashing. She bit my shoulder, fangs deep. Blood poured.
I roared, knife flashing. Plunged it into her side. She thrashed, tails flailing. I twisted, carving up.
Her heart—pulsing, hot—tore free in my hand.
She went still. Eyes gone, body ruined.
I scooped the orbs into my vial—squishy, glowing. Wrapped the heart in cloth. Not for eating. For rituals back North. Power boosts.
Wounds throbbed—gashes knitting slow. Immortal, but it hurt.
Screams echoed from the entrance—my guards dying.
Perfect. Distraction bought me time.
I staggered out of the fog, the mist clawing at my clothes like desperate fingers trying to pull me back into the swamp’s embrace. My boots squelched in the mud, each step heavier than the last, my body screaming from the wounds that were already knitting themselves closed.
The air was thicker here at the edge, where the marshes met the clearing—a mix of rot and fresh blood.
And there they were: my guards, or what was left of them. Scattered like broken dolls across the ground.
Drained husks, skin pale and shriveled, eye sockets empty black holes staring at nothing. Garr’s body was closest, his massive frame twisted in a final spasm, mouth frozen in a silent scream. Claw marks raked across his chest, tails had whipped him bloody before the demons sucked him dry.
I paused for a second, breathing hard, the vial of eyes heavy in my pocket, the wrapped heart slick against my thigh.
A low chuckle escaped my lips—cold, mocking.
“Idiots,” I muttered to the corpses. “I warned you. Told you not to let them lure you. But no, you had to be stupid. Had to chase the whispers, the pretty faces in the fog.”
One of them—some young fool whose name I didn’t even remember—had his pants down around his ankles, like he’d died mid-fuck.
Pathetic.
They hadn’t paid attention to my warning, right? Thought they were tougher than the legends.
Now they were food for the marshes.
I spat on the ground near Garr’s head.
“Your families will hear about this. Maybe I’ll send them your empty skulls as a reminder not to breed more fools.”