Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 326: When Life Gives You Claws

"W-what’s going on?" Riona’s voice trembled as she scanned the scene around her.

Everywhere, people writhed in agony. Even the elders—who had stood firm at first, resisting with sheer willpower—now clutched their temples, faces twisted in pain. The air was thick with groans and labored breathing. But as chaos unfolded, a startling realization struck her.

She felt nothing.

No pounding in her skull. No fire crawling under her skin. No nausea twisting her stomach. She was completely untouched.

"Why aren’t we in pain?" she asked, turning to the werewolves beside her.

Thorin hesitated. "Because we’re werewolves?" he offered, though doubt flickered in his eyes.

It was the only explanation that made sense—for now. Riona had werewolf blood in her veins. If the black mist’s attack only affected vampires, that meant the three of them were immune.

"Does it matter?" the Fallen One snapped. "Instead of wasting time figuring things out, you should be looking for your brother. Ol’gaz’s power is spreading fast. The longer you wait, the more danger he’s in."

Riona clenched her jaw. She hated to admit it, but he was right. This wasn’t the time to play scholar—she had never been one, anyway. She didn’t waste curiosity on things that felt like a burden. And this? This was definitely a burden.

Before she could move, the sky roared.

Lightning split the clouds, sending deafening cracks through the city. With each thunderous boom, the vampires screamed louder, writhing in place, clawing at their heads and stomachs as if trying to rip the pain out of themselves.

Griswold was already on the ground. He was the first elder who had finally succumbed, his screams raw, his hands nearly gouging his own eyes out—until Ulysses seized his wrists.

"Get yourself together!" Ulysses bellowed, his voice cutting through the madness. It wasn’t just a command for Griswold or the others of the Nightshade Coven—it was for himself. Because even he had begun to waver.

The storm raged on, and time was slipping through their fingers.

"I can’t take it anymore!" Griswold’s scream tore through the air. His head snapped back as he wailed, his body shaking violently. He slammed his fists against the ground as if the pain in his knuckles could keep him from clawing at his own flesh. "Get it away from me! Leave me alone!"

Around him, the cries of other vampires rose into a maddening chorus. Some sobbed. Others shrieked. Trapped in their own nightmares, they begged unseen horrors to release them.

"No! Don’t take him away! Please! Please! I need him! I can’t live without him!"

"Don’t touch her! I’ll kill you! Uargh—I’ll kill you!" ƒгeewebnovёl.com

"Stop it! I said stop!!"

"Uaarrrggghhh!!! Ruuunnn!!!!"

The chaos swelled, their screams overlapping, their voices cracking with desperation.

Then they began to move.

Blindly, wildly, they thrashed, arms swinging through the air without thought, without aim—striking whatever, whoever, was near. Their eyes, now clouded with an eerie white fog, saw nothing but the torment of their visions.

And all around them, the black mist thickened, swallowing the city in its suffocating embrace.

And then, the chaos turned violent.

It wasn’t intentional, but in such close quarters, the flailing arms and unleashed powers meant someone was bound to get hurt. Vampires struck each other blindly, too lost in their nightmares to realize they were attacking their own.

Riona’s eyes darted through the madness—then locked onto Lisbeth.

The princess was thrashing, arms swinging wildly. Nearby, Lady Maris struggled to rise. If she stood now, Lisbeth’s next strike would send her crashing back down.

"Lisbeth!" Riona shouted, lunging between them. But her voice was lost in the sea of screams. Even if it wasn’t, Lisbeth was too deep in her nightmare to hear.

Riona acted fast. She seized Lisbeth’s arm, twisted it behind her back, and struck the base of her neck. The princess crumpled with a pained cry, murmuring broken pleas.

"Father... Mother... please..."

For a moment, guilt gnawed at Riona. Whatever Lisbeth was seeing, whatever nightmare had her in its grip, it was tearing her apart.

But there was no time for sympathy.

Riona grabbed Lisbeth’s shoulders and shook her. "Wake up!" No response. She slapped her cheek. "Come on, wake up!" But the princess’s eyes remained clouded white, her mind trapped.

Desperation surged through Riona. If pain wouldn’t wake her, then maybe anger would.

She leaned in close, voice sharp as a blade. "You’re pathetic! You’ll never beat me. Never. Your father will never love you—not before, not now, not ever."

Nothing.

Not even that—words that would have shattered Lisbeth’s composure in an instant—could break through.

Riona clenched her fists. This wasn’t working. And time was running out.

"Riona! You need to bleed her out—let the mist escape from her blood!" Puck shouted over the chaos.

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed the nearest vampire—a knight he recognized. They had walked side by side on the treacherous path to Asvaldur from Eira, before turning back to take the even road. Now, that same knight was lost in his nightmare, thrashing blindly.

Puck’s claws extended. With a swift slash across the knight’s shoulder, blood poured out, sizzling as it met the air—bubbling like water in an overheated pot.

"Like this," he called to Riona, holding the knight steady to show her.

The effect was immediate. The milky veil over the knight’s eyes began to thin, the nightmare loosening its grip. His brows furrowed as the horrors in his mind blurred, reality slowly creeping back in. He blinked, still dazed, struggling to make sense of what he was seeing.

Then, as more blood dripped from his wound, his gaze cleared.

His breath hitched. "Puck?" he murmured, recognition flickering back into his eyes.

Once his vision was fully cleared of the veil, Puck grabbed the knight’s sleeve and pressed it against the wound. "Hold it there until the bleeding stops. Can you do the same for the others? We need them freed from the curse."

"Yes!" Though still weak and disoriented from his harrowing nightmare, the knight’s training overpowered his fear. He was a knight, after all—duty always came first.

Meanwhile, Riona frantically searched for something sharp. If only she had fangs—but there was a reason they called her fangless. As she debated her next move, a sudden sensation prickled her fingertips. Claws. She had claws!

A revelation struck her: the perk of being half-werewolf. And she had only discovered it now.

There was no time to celebrate. She dragged a claw across Lisbeth’s arm, careful not to cut too deep. Blood welled from the wound, seeping out in slow, steady droplets. The poisonous mist curled away from the opening. It worked—partly because of Lisbeth’s strong will.

The white veil had only half-faded from Lisbeth’s eyes, yet awareness already returned to her gaze. Tears clung to her lashes, but her expression was clear. "Was I infected?" she asked.

Riona nodded. "We need to bleed them all. Just enough to let the poison out."