Chapter 82: The Pawn and the Blade

Words : 1687 Updated : Sep 12th, 2025

Chapter 82: The Pawn and the Blade Cassandra~ The stench of rust and rain-soaked pavement clung to my lungs with every ragged breath. Slumped against the car door, I let the shadows swallow me, their jagged edges drawn by the flickering light of the streetlamp. The alley was narrow, boxed in by towering apartment buildings that felt as suffocating as the anger burning in my chest. It wasn’t the most dignified place to nurse my wounds, but here I was—bruised, breathless, and seething. I glared at the werewolf who had dragged me out here, standing a few feet away, his arms crossed over his broad chest like he actually believed he had me where he wanted. Griffin Blackthorn he called himself. Arrogant, handsome, and about as smart as a broken doorknob. He had one of those annoyingly symmetrical faces—strong jawline, high cheekbones, and dark brown hair that looked like he spent exactly five seconds running his fingers through it to achieve that perfect messy-but-not-messy look. His gray eyes gleamed with a cocky sort of mischief, the kind that said he thought he was untouchable. Tall, lean, but strong, he carried himself like a man who knew how to fight, how to command a room. And yet, he was a complete idiot. I had fallen into a cheap trap set by this nitwit and a few bloodsuckers? I curled my fingers into fists, resisting the urge to punch something—preferably his face. My injuries weren’t healing fast enough, and that only made me angrier. Normally, Kalmia would have warned me if I was heading into danger. Normally, my demon would be whispering in my mind, guiding me out of this mess before it even started. But tonight? She had been silent. My lip curled. "So, let me get this straight," I said, my voice laced with mock amusement. "You think I, Cassandra, should go after Mist?" I laughed, low and dangerous. "Mist. The divine, untouchable, terrifying Wolf Spirit?" The father of all werewolves was the kind of being you didn’t mess with unless you had a death wish. I felt my hands twitch at my sides, wanting so badly to grab something—his face, his throat, anything—to shake some sense into him. Griffin smirked, leaning against his car. "That’s the idea, yeah." "Wow, Cassie, this might just be the dumbest person we’ve ever come across," Nera my wolf scoffed. "Does he seriously not know that Mist can strip a werewolf of their powers in less than a second? That’s if it doesn’t kill them first." I couldn’t help but agree. I let out a slow breath, pressing my fingers to my temples. "You—" My voice caught, the sheer stupidity of his plan rendering me momentarily speechless. Then, with a dry chuckle, I muttered, "Oh, you’re actually serious." Griffin grinned. "I knew you were sharp." I clenched my jaw. "You’re either incredibly bold, incredibly stupid, or you have a death wish," I muttered. "Could be all three," he said casually. I cracked an eye open. "Oh, I like you. You’re so stupid, it’s almost charming." "Almost?" He placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. I rolled my eyes. This mutt was lucky I needed time to heal before carving his heart out. But more than anything, I needed answers. Where the hell was Kalmia? I shut my eyes and focused, reaching deep inside myself, searching for that dark, familiar presence. "Great Mother, Kalmia." There was silence, then a slow, creeping chill slithered up my spine. The air around me changed. The alley, once alive with distant city sounds—muffled conversations, the hum of passing cars, the occasional barking of a stray dog—went still. Dead silent. A biting cold wrapped around me like invisible chains, sucking the warmth from my skin. I went completely still. And then I heard a laugh. Ancient. Melodic. Low and sweet, yet filled with something so unfathomably dark that the sound alone could curdle blood. Griffin stopped mid-motion. His fingers were still curled over the hood of his car, his body frozen in place, mouth slightly open as if he was in the middle of speaking. His gray eyes were locked on me, unblinking. Time had stopped. A slow exhale left my lips. Finally. A shape flickered in front of me, the shadows twisting like living things. Then, she stepped forward, materializing from the void. Kalmia. Dark hair spilled like ink over her shoulders, her black lips curved into something between a knowing smile and a promise unspoken. Her gown, as dark as the abyss, moved as if caught in an invisible current. And her eyes... her eyes held the universe. I lowered my head, pressing my hand to my heart in silent deference. "You answered, Great mother." My voice, though steady, was careful. Measured. Kalmia hummed, the sound both indulgent and amused. "Of course I did, my little storm." I hesitated before lifting my gaze. "I—I did not mean to doubt. Only... I almost died, you left me in their hands." Her chuckle was like silk unraveling. "I was the one who placed you in their hands." A chill coiled through my spine. "You... meant for this to happen?" "Everything has unfolded as it should." She took a step closer, the space between us charged with something vast and unnameable. "You were meant to come here. You were meant to meet him." Her gaze flickered toward Griffin, still frozen in time. I followed her eyes, my brow furrowing. "Him? My breath hitched. I looked at Griffin. Then back at her. "But he wants me to fight Mist." I told her in disbelief. She chuckled, her breath ghosting over my neck, her presence pressing against my very soul. "Did you not wonder, my little storm, who whispered this crazy idea into Griffin’s mind?" "You?" My voice barely made it past my lips. "You... want me to fight Mist?" Kalmia’s dark laughter curled around me, slow and indulgent. "Oh, my sweet child, no." She lifted a hand, trailing a cold finger along my jawline. "Griffin is but a tool in our game. He believes he is clever, but he dances on strings he does not see." I swallowed hard. "Then... what is the real plan?" Kalmia’s eyes gleamed with something ancient. "Mist will not be coming to Vereth." I exhaled, tension draining from my body. Thank the void. "Then I should reject his little offer?" I asked. Kalmia smiled. "No. Accept it." I frowned. "But—" "His little idea will lead you to what we seek." Realization settled in my bones. My breath stilled. "The vampire." Kalmia’s lips curved, her expression excited. "The rarest blood of all. The one I desire most. The one that would bring an end to your hunt." Something dark slithered in my chest, an excitement I dared not name. I swallowed. "Then... I am to stay with him?" "For now." I fought not to let my displeasure show but she caught it. "My storm," she purred, placing a hand over my heart. "Have I ever put you in true danger?" A small part of me wanted to argue. Wanted to say, Yes, constantly, actually. But... I knew the truth. Kalmia had been my guide, my protector, my mother when I had no one else. I trusted her, no matter how chaotic her plans seemed. I took a slow breath, nodding. "I will accept." Her smile widened. "Good girl." I lowered my head. "And Griffin?" Kalmia chuckled, her melodic voice sending a shiver down my spine. "Not yet. Play along, my storm. Do not fight what is already written. Once he delivers the vampire I seek... then you may have your revenge." I felt my lips part in surprise. The promise of revenge... of sinking my claws into Griffin’s throat for nearly getting me killed earlier... It was delicious. A slow smirk curled my lips. "Understood." Kalmia reached out, her fingertips brushing my cheek. A rush of cold shot through me—freezing and burning all at once. My wounds sealed, the pain vanishing as power flooded my limbs, raw and untamed. I exhaled, flexing my fingers. "Your gift is ever a mercy, Great Mother." Kalmia pressed a kiss to my forehead—cold, like winter’s first frost—then, as if she had never been there, she was gone. The stillness shattered. Sound flooded the alley—the distant hum of cars, the barking dog, the sharp inhale of a certain werewolf who had no idea time had slipped through his fingers. Griffin’s fingers drummed against his car like he had been doing before Kalmia came. His smirk returned, full of self-assured arrogance. "Well?" he asked. "What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?" I lifted my gaze, slipping on a perfectly crafted false smile. "I’ve always liked a challenge." I let my words drag, watching as his smirk widened. "If you can get me the vampire you promised, I’ll hold off Mist. And this... Cole Lucky guy." I met his eyes. "As long as you need." Griffin’s grin stretched wide. "Now that’s what I like to hear." He clapped his hands together, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Then it’s time to move on to the next phase." I did not argue. Instead, I let my body sag just slightly, pretending to still be weak from earlier. The last thing I needed was for Griffin to think I had fully recovered. Predictably, he moved toward me, steadying me with a hand on my back. "Still feeling it, huh?" His voice was almost... teasing. I forced a breathless chuckle. "Let’s just say I’ve had better nights." "Lucky for you, I planned ahead," Griffin said, guiding me toward his car. "I booked a hotel just in case my plans worked out." He flashed me a grin. "And look at that—they did." I wanted to stab him. But instead, I let my lips curl into a slow, easy smirk. "Well, then." I slid into the passenger seat, casting him a sideways glance. "Lead the way, Blackthorn." He chuckled as he started the engine, completely unaware that the game had already changed. Completely unaware that he was the pawn. And I? I was the one holding the blade.

Chapter 82: The Pawn and the Blade

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