Chapter 210

Chapter 210: Chapter 210

Drake’s pov

It was so laughable that the father was once a formidable rival but now the son was even more ruthless, I wondered how the son suddenly became smarter.

Since all of this, I haven’t heard much about Darius and was only dealing with Gideon these days, yeah it was laughable.

I tracked them to the outer gates of Gideon’s hideout.

I released a concentrated surge of my pureblood aura, and the ten-foot slabs of reinforced iron shattered into a blinding shower of shrapnel and stone dust. The deafening roar echoed across the misty valley, flattening the guards stationed at the threshold before they could even draw their steel.

I stepped through the ruin.

Rain lashed at my bare head, washing over the dark leather of my coat as I walked through the courtyard. The guards I brought followed in a tight, silent formation behind me, but they did not need to raise their blades. The weight of my pureblood static, burning at a lethal, absolute pitch, pinned every defensive unit to the wet stone tiles.

Four guards charged out from the main hall, crossbows raised. I didn’t even look at them. I flicked my wrist, releasing a wave of razor-sharp pressure that tore through the air, snapping their bows and driving their heavy frames straight back through the wooden doors of the keep.

"Sovereign!" Commander Valen called from behind, his blade drawn. "The upper towers are secured. The subterranean ward grid is pulsing from the lowest level."

"Stay at the threshold," I commanded, my voice a flat, freezing whisper that carried more terror than the thunder crashing overhead. "No one leaves this structure alive."

I strode into the dark stone interior of the fortress. The air grew damp, reeking of sulfur, old iron, and dark sorcery. Every step I took down the winding spiral staircase left deep, frosted footprints in the stone floorboards, the temperature plunging to absolute zero in my wake.

Deep beneath the earth, the subterranean passage opened into a narrow, stone-walled corridor. Two heavily armored guards stood before a reinforced vault door, their hands trembling as they pointed their spears at my chest.

"Stand down!" one of them choked out, his voice cracking with pure terror. "You are trespassing on neutral border—"

I closed the distance in a fraction of a second.

My palms slammed flat against their chest plates, the pureblood static discharging straight through the iron, shattering their ribs and driving them violently against the walls. They collapsed to the floor, unconscious before their bodies hit the stone.

I raised my boot and kicked the heavy iron vault door off its hinges with a deafening CRACK.

The door slammed inward, crashing into the dark cellar beyond.

I stepped through the frame, my crimson eyes flaring bright against the dim, amber glow of a single oil lantern hanging from the ceiling. The thick smell of bitter dream-poppy, dark blood-oil, and ozone filled the space, making my pureblood marrow rage.

Then, my gaze locked onto the center of the chamber.

Lysander hung suspended from heavy, silver-plated ring-bolts anchored into the far stone wall. His wrists were bound in thick chains, his hair soaked and plastered to his pale forehead, his bare feet dragging in the cold mud. He was shivering violently, his body heavy, limp, and completely poisoned by a dark, intoxicating draught.

Standing before him was a witch, her gnarled, oil-stained hands hovering inches over his waist, a sickly black light pulsing around her fingers. Beside her stood Julian, his hood pulled low over his pale, terrified face, and Gideon, who froze near the stairs as my shadow filled the doorway.

Lysander’s head hung low, his frame trembling as he wept openly, hot tears dragging through the dirt on his cheeks. He wasn’t looking at the witch. He wasn’t looking at the dark spell eating into his skin. His unblinking, tear-streaked eyes were fixed on the floorboards, his throat working through a raw, broken plea that cut straight through the dark room.

"I love him..." Lysander whimpered into the quiet, his voice cracking, raw with an absolute, crushing devotion that shattered my chest to pieces. "I love him more than my own life... More than my blood... Please... spare Drake’s child... Take me instead... Kill me, but let the baby live..."

The words echoed in the cold, damp cellar, freezing time itself.

I love him... I love him more than my own life...

Every wall of ice I had erected around my heart shattered into dust. The lingering poison of Julian’s lies evaporated in a single heartbeat, replaced by a blinding, absolute clarity. Lysander had never betrayed me. He had never walked away. Even here, chained to stone, poisoned, and bleeding, he was using his own body as a shield to protect our unborn child because he loved me.

A sound tore from my chest, a low, terrifying roar of pure, unadulterated rage.

The witch didn’t even have time to turn around. Before her gnarled, oil-stained hands could sink any deeper into Lysander’s skin, I bridged the distance between us in a fraction of a second. My bare hand locked around her throat, the heat of my pureblood magic discharging through her flesh instantly. I lifted her three feet off the floor and slammed her frame flat against the stone wall.

"You lay hands on my mate," I growled into her pale, terrified face, my crimson eyes burning like twin fires.

With a single, effortless snap of my wrist, her life went dark. I threw her lifeless body into the corner of the cellar like garbage.

"Drake...!" Julian gasped from the stairs, his silver-tinted eyes wide with sheer, breathless horror as his knees gave out beneath him. He scrambled backward on his hands and knees, trying desperately to retreat into the shadows. "Listen to me! It was Gideon! He forced me—"

I didn’t even look at him. I raised my left hand, releasing a dense wave of pressure that pinned Julian flat against the stone steps, trapping him under an invisible, crushing weight that cut off his voice and left him gasping for air.

Gideon reached for his sword, his aristocratic calm completely shattered, but I moved before he could draw two inches of steel. I backhanded him across the face with enough force to break his jaw, driving his heavy frame sideways into the wooden railing. He hit the floorboards out cold, bleeding into the dust.

The room went terrifyingly still.

I turned away from the fallen bodies, stepping slowly across the cold floorboards toward the wall where Lysander hung bound. The lethal, oppressive static radiating from my shoulders vanished instantly, replaced by a deep, desperate warmth.

"Lysander," I whispered, my voice rough and trembling.

I reached up, my hands gripping the heavy silver-plated chains anchored above his head. I squeezed, channelling pureblood heat straight through the metal until the links groaned, cracked, and snapped like brittle twigs.

The iron fell away with a loud, metallic clatter.

Lysander’s limp, poisoned body collapsed forward, but before his knees could touch the freezing floorboards, I caught him in my arms. I gathered his wet, shivering frame tight against my broad chest, wrapping one arm around his back and slipping the other beneath his knees.

"I have you," I breathed, pulling him flush against my beating heart as my cloak fell around his shoulders. "I have you, my love. You’re safe."

Lysander’s head dropped heavily against my shoulder, his skin ice-cold, his breathing short and ragged from the sweet, poison in his veins. He couldn’t open his dark eyes, the dream-poppy was still thick in his blood but as my heat wrapped around him, his fingers twitched weakly against my coat, curling instinctively into the damp leather.

I buried my face against his damp hair, inhaling his sweet hybrid scent beneath the smell of mud and bitter herbs, tears burning hot behind my eyes. "I am taking you home."

I carried him out of the cellar, stepping past the unconscious figures on the stairs without a second glance. Commander Valen stood waiting in the upper hallway, his sword drawn, his eyes scanning my face as I emerged carrying my mate.

"Sir," Valen said crisply, bowing his head. "The perimeter is secure. What of Julian and Gideon?"

"Bind them in iron chains," I commanded, my tone dropping into a cold, absolute register that left no room for doubt. "Throw them into the deep cells beneath the main keep. They will answer for treason when my mate is safe."

"At once, Sovereign."

I carried Lysander out of the fortress, I walked with long, steady strides through the forest path, holding Lysander close to my chest, keeping my pureblood aura flared gently around his frame to shield him from the biting mountain wind.

Every few steps, Lysander would shift in his sleep, a faint whimpering sound escaping his lips as his mind fought the lingering nightmares of the cellar.

"Drake..." he whispered faintly into my collar, his forehead pressing against my neck. "Don’t let them take... the baby..."

"No one is taking anything, Lysander," I murmured softly, pressing a lingering kiss to his pale, damp temple. "I am right here. I will never let anyone touch you again."

"Rest now, my love," I whispered into the quiet morning light, my heart full and overflowing with a devotion that would never break again. "You are home."