Chapter 94- Chaos at the End

The chaos above intensified, turning into something that felt less like a battle and more like an impending earthquake. The ground beneath me trembled with growing violence, sending tremors through the prison’s stone walls. Each deafening thud, each roar, each anguished scream signaled only one thing—we had been found.  

But by whom?  

Had Damon finally come for me?  

I barely had time to contemplate the answer before Valia stumbled in, her body slick with blood, her once-perfect face smeared with crimson. A deep gash on her forehead dripped relentlessly, leaving a dark trail down her neck and soaking into her clothes.  

I was shocked she had any blood left to spill.  

“Save me!” she gasped, desperation replacing the arrogance I had always known. “Please… tell him I had nothing to do with this! I was only ever trying to help. Please!”  

She was pleading now, her voice raw, her terror palpable.  

For a moment, I simply stared, unable to comprehend the scene before me.  

Valia—the woman who had orchestrated my exile, who had manipulated Damon into casting me out—was now begging me to save her.  

But save her from who?  

I didn’t struggle against my restraints anymore. I simply blinked, studying her as if she were a mystery that had suddenly unraveled.  

She was still breathtakingly beautiful, even as she bled out, even as her eyes flickered with fear.  

“A shame,” I thought absently.  

Then, I spoke.  

“Who?”  

“He’s coming,” she whispered hoarsely, her lips trembling. “Please—”  

She didn’t get to finish.  

Damon burst into the chamber, his presence swallowing every ounce of space, every lingering breath of air.  

He was shirtless, his body streaked with cuts, blood staining his skin in various places. His eyes locked onto mine for barely a second before flickering to Valia—his rage manifesting in a single, unrelenting stare.  

She didn’t run. There was nowhere to hide.  

Instead, she backed against the wall, pleading.  

Damon was lightning—swift and merciless. His hand snapped forward, gripping her head, and I knew what was coming before it happened.  

I had seen him do this before.  

He was going to tear her apart.  

“Damon!” I screamed, but my cry was swallowed by the sickening crack of bone, the final snap that ended Valia’s life.  

I squeezed my eyes shut, recoiling at the grotesque sound of her head hitting the ground, unable to bear the sight of her destroyed form.  

Damon moved toward me without hesitation, breaking apart the chains as if they were made of mere twigs. The restraints shattered at his touch, falling uselessly to the ground.  

I barely processed my sudden freedom before he commanded, “Let’s go.”  

I couldn’t look at him.  

But I moved anyway.  

He helped me to my feet, his grip firm yet strangely gentle. Then, as if needing confirmation that I was real, that I was alive, his hand cupped my face.  

I gazed into his eyes, my own filling with tears.  

I was furious—still burning from his betrayal, his abandonment. But I missed him more than I was willing to admit.  

Neither of us spoke.  

Damon swept me into his arms, carrying me as he dashed through the narrowing corridors.  

The prison was collapsing above us—stone crumbling, dust clouding the air. Rocks rained down, cutting against our skin, forcing Damon to shield me as best as he could. The ground ahead cracked violently, the earth caving in and blocking several pathways.  

There was only one remaining exit.  

Damon didn’t hesitate—he sprinted toward it, dodging debris, twisting through collapsing structures. A boulder crashed inches away from us, denting the ground upon impact.  

Somber Forest—the land above the prison—was giving out.  

We had only seconds to escape before we were buried alive.  

Then—  

More ground caved in.  

No more paths remained.  

“Grab my hand!”  

We both looked up simultaneously.

Malios hovered above, arms stretched downward, fingers curled in anticipation.  

Damon didn’t hesitate—he lifted me toward him.  

Malios pulled me up, settling me onto the forest ground several meters away.  

Then, without a moment’s pause, he ran back for Damon.  

I sucked in deep breaths, barely able to steady myself, my mind struggling to register everything happening around me.  

The battlefield stretched before me—scattered bodies, remnants of violence.  

Evan.  

He was fighting Luke and several guards, locked in a deadly struggle.  

Damon rushed toward him, shouting something unintelligible before diverting his focus, pushing deeper into the chaos.  

I couldn’t stay put.  

I ran—through trees, over fallen bodies, back toward the unraveling disaster.  

It was carnage.  

Wolves tore through vampires, tossing them like lifeless dolls, ripping them apart without restraint.  

I had never realized how many of them remained.  

The elderly man and the pregnant woman—both lifeless, their heads lying limp on the forest floor.  

I flinched as Malios and Damon cornered another vampire—one forcing him back while the other ended him with a single swipe of their claws.  

There was more blood than dirt.  

And then—I saw her.  

Tessa.  

She was pressed against a tree, surrounded by three werewolves.  

In her grasp—Maria.  

Tessa’s knife was pressed dangerously against her mother’s throat.  

Her eyes flashed murderously.  

“Let me go,” she hissed, “or she dies.”