Betrayed By My Mate, Claimed By His Lycan King Uncle
Chapter 87: I’ll be glad to die in your arms.

Chapter 87: I’ll be glad to die in your arms.

Meanwhile, Anaya and Rhys were still trapped within the ruins of the fallen pack, running frantically from one crumbled corridor to the next. The once-mighty territory now lay in desolation, its shadows haunted by restless undead. They had fought alongside each other, blades flashing through the darkness as they struck at the skeletal creatures, but not a single one fell. No matter how many blows they landed, the skeletons rose again..unrelenting, untiring.

Defeat crept upon them while their bodies were littered with gashes and bruises, blood soaking through their torn clothes and trailing behind them.

By the time darkness fully claimed the sky, the half-moon was their only source of light. It hung in the sky, casting a pale silver glow over the fallen pack.

After another narrow escape from a mob of skeletal warriors, they stumbled upon an abandoned well...empty, dry, and forgotten. With no better choice, they crawled inside, lowering themselves silently into the stone pit. A rotting wooden lid lay nearby, and they carefully pulled it over the opening, cloaking them in darkness.

The air was damp and cold, and silence became their only shield.

From above, the hollow clatter of bones echoed...groans and growls filling the night as the skeletons searched the pack grounds, their claws scratching against stones and bones. Anaya and Rhys didn’t dare to move. They barely even breathed.

"What do we do now?" Anaya whispered, her voice trembling. Pain and fear etched deep into her blood-smeared face. "Are we going to die like this? We shouldn’t have come here. We should have followed Sorayah..."

"Shh," Rhys murmured, pressing two fingers gently against her trembling lips. "And die at Dimitri’s hands instead? I’d rather take my chances with monsters than him. There’s still got to be a way out. We won’t die here. I won’t let that happen."

Though his voice was firm, a grim line of fear stretched across his face. His expression betrayed the confidence he tried to convey. his eyes wide with panic.

"A way out?" Anaya whispered, shaking her head slowly. "I doubt it. Our time is running out, Rhys." She wiped her tear-streaked face with trembling hands. "Now I understand why the Beta Lord always wins his wars. It’s not only strategy. It’s this...this abomination. He summons these horrors to fight for him. That bastard..."

"Enough," Rhys warned, his voice sharp but quiet. "Now’s not the time to curse anyone. If you speak too loudly, you’ll call them down on us."

He glanced upward, peering through the narrow crack in the wooden lid...the same small gap that allowed them to breathe. Moonlight filtered through, casting faint shadows over their faces. From outside, the groans and rattling bones of the undead creatures still echoed, some now dangerously close to the well’s edge.

Anaya hesitated before speaking again, her voice barely audible. "I have a locket. It was my father’s. He told me to always carry it, and to use it when I was in danger." Slowly, she reached beneath her bloodstained dress and pulled out a small jade pendant. "I’ve used it twice. Once when werewolves attacked me, and once when I nearly fell off a cliff. It saved me both times... but only against natural dangers and mortals. I’ve never tried it against... things like those."

Her eyes welled with fresh tears as she clutched the locket, her hand trembling.

"It might work," Rhys said quickly, his gaze lighting up with a spark of hope as he reached out and gently took the locket from her. "You should have shown me this earlier. We won’t know what it can do unless we try. Sometimes, trying is all we’ve got."

Anaya looked at him with wary eyes. "Should we even use the word ’try’ when we’re facing those things? If it fails, we’ll be torn apart. Just like the others. Just like those poor souls we saw on the way here..."

"We’re still going to try," Rhys said firmly, exhaling a shaky breath. "But not now. We wait until sunrise. It’s too dark. Even if the jade works, we’ll have no chance of escape if we use it now. When morning comes, at least we’ll have the light...and maybe, just maybe, a place to run."

Anaya nodded slowly, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her dagger. "If it fails... if my father’s pendant fails to save us..." She paused, then smiled faintly, despite the tears glistening in her eyes. "Then I’ll be glad to die in your arms, Rhys. If I can’t have you in this life, maybe I’ll find you in the next."

Rhys’s lips twitched into a smirk. "You’re speaking nonsense again."

A tense silence stretched between them, then he added in a softer tone, "Just shut up and sleep. I’ll keep watch."

Anaya scoffed lightly and shifted closer to him. "As if I could sleep. Only a fool sleeps in the face of death. I’ll keep watch too. I’d rather face the horror awake."

She gripped her dagger tightly, eyes fixed on the lid above.

Rhys smiled again...this time with genuine warmth and turned his attention to the small sliver of moonlight filtering in.

____

The next morning arrived swiftly, the golden rays of the sun stretching across the war-torn landscape. Birds chirped merrily outside the encampment, and the low hum of soldiers’ conversations filled the air. The noise stirred Sorayah from her slumber, her eyes fluttering open as awareness returned to her.

She sat up slowly, momentarily disoriented by her surroundings before recalling she had spent the night in Dimitri’s tent. on the floor, by choice. Her bedding was simple, a makeshift arrangement near the hearth while Dimitri had been left to occupy the tent’s only bed. But as her gaze moved across the tent, she noticed the bed was empty.

He was gone.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she rose, brushing her hands over the wrinkled linen. She began gathering her bedroll and folding the blanket with quiet efficiency, but her mind was far from calm. The events of last night played on repeat in her thoughts.

Dimitri had threatened to kill her. his voice cold, eyes burning with something she couldn’t quite name. Yet when the moment came, he had done the opposite.

He hugged her.

At first, Sorayah had been certain he was about to stab her...his arms had wrapped around her so suddenly, so tightly, she expected a blade to pierce her side. But the blade never came. Instead, Dimitri held her there, unmoving, silent, and trembling like a man clinging to the edge of his sanity. His grip had been desperate, unrelenting, as if letting her go would break him completely.

It had taken Sorayah pressing her cheek to his chest and whispering that he was suffocating her for him to finally loosen his hold. Even then, he didn’t say a word. He had simply released her, turned on his heel, and stormed out of the bathhouse, leaving her alone with a whirlwind of confusion and lingering warmth where his arms had been.

Later, when she returned to the tent, he was gone again...off mingling with his soldiers, their voices lifting his name in celebration, unaware of the unraveling man beneath the mask of their Beta Lord. She had used the moment of privacy to bathe and then laid herself down to sleep, exhaustion claiming her swiftly.

But now that she was awake and he was nowhere in sight, her thoughts churned restlessly.

What has come over him? she wondered, shaking out the last of the blanket and folding it neatly. He even cried.

Yes, she was sure of it.

His tears had shimmered unnaturally in the dim bathhouse light, leaving behind trails of faintly glowing blue. Even later, when she returned to the bathhouse to retrieve her comb, she found traces of those glittering droplets on the stone floor...beautiful, eerie, and undoubtedly not human.

So even Dimitri cries... and his tears aren’t like anyone else’s. The realization left her strangely hollow inside, her heart aching for reasons she couldn’t fully explain.

She recalled his voice again, low and breathless, whispering against her ear while holding her in that haunting embrace.

"Just stay still... it’s only going to be for a short period of time."

The memory of it sent a tremor through her.

And then, something else...perhaps the most unbelievable part of all.

He had thanked her.

Dimitri Nightshade, the feared Beta Lord, the war-scarred conqueror, the man who burned entire packs to the ground had whispered "thank you" into her ear. Twice. She hadn’t believed it the first time, thought it a cruel trick of her ears. But when he said it again, slower this time, with a sincerity that echoed in his tone... her heart had nearly stopped.

What came over him though? Sorayah wondered, her brows knitting in concern as she placed the bedding in a corner. What horrors did he endure that brought him to this breaking point? And why would he go as far as to destroy an entire pack just to save his sister’s children?

And more importantly...

Where is his sister now?