Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 339: Scent of Silence

No longer constrained by mortal limitations, the body lunged with impossible speed. One moment she stood still, and in the next, her fangs were embedded in the stone where Thorin’s head had just been. He ducked low, sweeping with a leg, but she floated back effortlessly as if gravity no longer applied.

Thorin gritted his teeth. This was different. Kaan had been powerful, fast, and vicious—but still bound by rules. This... was something else. Unnatural.

Thessara flicked her wrist. The dust from the broken corridor surged again, but now it moved like a living thing—swarming toward Thorin with the speed of a thousand stingers.

He leapt backward, calling on every ounce of Alpha strength, landing hard, claws extended. His ribs still ached. Blood still dripped from his temple. But he didn’t back down.

He charged again. They collided—this time not as man and emperor, but as forces of nature. The clash cracked the air. Thessara hissed as Thorin broke her arm. She didn’t feel the pain, and she didn’t care if Kaan felt it.

She kept going, and Thorin broke another arm. Kaan’s borrowed body reeled back into a pillar.

Stone shattered. Dust exploded. But she laughed.

"You’re fun," she said.

Thorin didn’t answer. He moved in again, claws extended, ready to tear her apart if that’s what it took—but she anticipated him now. Her lifeless hands wobbled by her side, but her feet moved faster than before, and she caught him mid-lunge. With one burst of power, she drove him into the floor using her head.

The stone split beneath him.

Thorin coughed, blood rising in his throat. He tried to move, but she was already above him.

"I wonder," Thessara whispered, crouching over his body like a panther over prey. "If I crush your spine, will it grow back like the others do?"

She unleashed Kaan’s fangs and dug the sharp teeth into Thorin’s neck, sucking his blood to dry.

His vision blurred. A dull thud resonated through the corridor as his body dropped to the floor.

Then, silence. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

***

Riona glanced back, again and again. She told herself Thorin would be fine. He could handle the emperor—he had to. But that didn’t stop the tight knot forming in her chest. Emperor Kaan wasn’t just any enemy. He was the vampire emperor, the genius whispered through generations.

Even Thorin had never faced someone like him.

Puck noticed her hesitation and tugged her forward. "Hey! Quit looking back. It’s Thorin, remember? That guy doesn’t lose."

His voice was light, teasing—but his eyes watched her carefully.

Still, Riona didn’t reply. Her expression stayed grim, her pace slowing with every step, like some part of her heart was dragging behind.

Puck sighed, louder this time. "Seriously? He trusted you enough to go fang-to-fang with that monster so you could save Florian. And now you’re out here acting like he’s already lost. Aren’t you being kind of unfair?"

"Huh?" she blinked at him, thrown off by the sudden frustration in his voice.

But Puck didn’t stop. "He believes in you. Has for a long time. Isn’t it time you believed in him, too?"

Riona looked at him, lips pressing into a thin line. That was Puck—the Howl of the pack. Not just Thorin’s right hand, but his loudest, fiercest believer.

She exhaled slowly. "I do trust him," she said quietly. "But that doesn’t mean I’m not scared."

Then her eyes sharpened. Her voice steadied.

"Now get me to my brother. This ends today. And once it does—I’m going back to Thorin."

***

The scent was faint. Puck rarely struggled to track anything, especially the living. Their scent burned brighter, more vivid, easy for a werewolf to catch from miles away.

But Florian was a strange case. Technically alive, yes—but locked deep within his own mind. His presence was dimmed, muffled beneath the heavy shadow of Ol’gaz, whose influence cloaked the trail like fog over embers.

Eventually, Puck stopped before a door. It looked ordinary—unremarkable, like any other in the castle. It led to the guest chamber where Florian had stayed during his time in Asvaldur.

He reached out, fingers brushing the cool metal of the doorknob, and pushed it open. It clicked softly. Unlocked.

That alone made Puck pause.

A guest room? For someone harboring a demon? No locks. No guards. No sigils or wards. It didn’t add up. The thought stirred unease in his chest, suspicions blooming like storm clouds.

Something was wrong.

The feeling only deepened once he stepped inside. At a glance, the chamber was pristine. The bed was made, the furniture arranged neatly, the air still and quiet. But beneath the surface, signs whispered the truth.

A fine layer of dust clung to the window sills, the edges of the dresser, the carved bedposts. Not much—but enough. Enough to say the room had been cleaned... perhaps two days ago, no more.

Puck narrowed his eyes. That small detail sharpened the picture in his mind. If the servants had stopped tending the room two days earlier, it likely meant that was when the possession began—when the nightmare, carried by mist and malice, had sunk its teeth into Asvaldur’s vampires.

The castle had been claimed, and no one had sounded the alarm.

"It’s empty..."

Riona’s voice drifted from behind him, quiet but edged with unease. She, too, carried suspicions, though different from Puck’s. While he was troubled by the chamber itself, its eerie stillness, Riona doubted whether Florian had ever been here at all.

"Could he have been moved?" she asked, brow furrowing. "Are we too late, Puck?"

Puck shook his head. "No. This is the place."

He closed his eyes, shutting out the world to heighten his sense of smell. For a few moments, he stood completely still, every breath focused, filtering through traces left behind. Then, he moved, taking slow steps across the chamber until he stopped and crouched low.

Placing a palm flat on the cold floor, he opened his eyes. "He’s here."

Riona raised a skeptical brow, about to question him—there was no sign of Florian anywhere. But before she could speak, Puck pulled back the rug that lay across the stone floor.

Beneath it was a square panel of wood, distinct from the rest, set with a black steel handle.

He turned to Riona, and they exchanged a silent, knowing glance. Without a word, Puck gripped the black steel handle and pulled open the wooden panel. A musty draft rose from below. Darkness loomed inside, but they could just make out the first few steps of a staircase descending into the earth.

"I’ll go first," Puck said, already lowering himself into the opening. His long legs found the steps easily, and he was halfway down before his head dipped below the floorboards.

"It’s pitch black," he muttered.

Riona raised her hand. A red aura flickered to life in her palm, coiling and twisting before it bloomed into a steady, glowing flame. She glanced around, spotted a nearby torch sconce, and placed the flame into it. Then she handed it to Puck.

"Here. Lead the way."

He took it, the warm light casting flickering shadows on the walls as he continued downward. Riona followed close behind, her steps silent.

The stairs ended in a low-ceilinged chamber. Stone walls enclosed them, cold and ancient. The flame illuminated only the immediate area, leaving the rest swallowed by darkness.

They barely had time to take in the space before a voice slithered out of the shadows.

"Hello, sister."

A figure stepped into the edge of the light. Florian.

No... not Florian. The smile was wrong. The eyes were wrong.

It was the demon.