Married To The Villain
Chapter 37: A False Hope

Chapter 37: A False Hope

Chapter 37: A False Escape

"Finally! Away from this bullshit!"

The cold northern winds howled as Lirian sat in the carriage.

She was massaging her wrists from the iron shackles they had finally removed.

"Third time, huh?"

The carriage was cold, she could still see some snowflakes and frost, but one thing still seemed colder to Lirian...

She was alone.

For the first time in days, there was no Daria to needle her with barbs, no Gabriel to loom over her like a shadow of unfulfilled promises.

And, to her bittersweet relief, there was no Pedro to cause her headaches.

The North had been her prison, a frozen wasteland.

She had dreamed of escape every night, dreamed of warmth, dreamed of the chance to reclaim herself.

Now, as the carriage rumbled southward toward the kingdom, a cautious smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

The snow would soon be behind her.

No more icy mornings, no more Daria’s shrill laughter echoing in her ears.

She could breathe again.

When she returned, perhaps she could finally begin to rebuild—not the life she had lost, but a new one.

One where she could make her own choices, free of Gabriel, free of anyone who sought to control her.

The thought made her sit up straighter, a small hope warmed her even as the wind seeped through the carriage’s thin walls.

But that hope would be short-lived.

The attack came without warning.

The first sign was the horses’ panicked whinnies, a loud noise that broke through the boring sounds of the trip.

Then came the shouts of the guards riding alongside the carriage.

"Ambush!" someone yelled.

Lirian barely had time to process the word before the carriage lurched violently to one side, throwing her against the wall.

The horses screamed as arrows whistled through the air, finding their marks with thuds.

"Stop the—" a guard’s voice was cut short, followed by the unmistakable sound of steel meeting flesh.

Lirian scrambled to her feet, her pulse pounded in her ears.

She peered through the small window and saw people fighting.

They were dressed in dark cloaks coming from the treeline.

They looked ruthless, cutting down Gabriel’s soldiers as if they were nothing more than weeds.

Panic haunted her veins.

She grabbed at the door, trying to push it open, but it was locked from the outside.

A sharp impact rocked the carriage as one of the cloaked attackers leapt onto its roof.

The wood groaned under their weight.

"No," she whispered, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

The roof splintered as a blade plunged through it, narrowly missing her.

She stumbled back, her hand found the dagger she had hidden in her boot—a gift she had smuggled out of the North despite Gabriel’s searches.

The door was wrenched open, and a masked person loomed in the frame.

"Come quietly," he ordered.

Lirian’s grip tightened on the dagger. She would not go quietly. Not this time.

She lunged forward, slashing at his hand.

The man recoiled with a grunt, giving her just enough time to dart past them and leap from the carriage.

The impact knocked the air from her lungs, but she rolled to her feet, adrenaline started dulling the pain.

All around her, the battle raged.

The guards were being overwhelmed, their bodies littering the snowy ground like broken dolls.

Lirian didn’t wait to see who was winning. She ran.

The forest ahead lookee like a dark tangle of trees that promised both danger and refuge.

She stumbled through the snow, her breath clouded the air as she pushed herself harder, faster.

Behind her, she heard shouts—orders to find her, to capture her.

Her legs burned as she wove through the trees, her boots slipped on the icy ground.

Everything around her blurred, her focus narrowed to the singular goal of escape.

But she wasn’t fast enough.

A man appeared in her path, his blade was shining in the pale light.

’Damn it!’

Lirian skidded to a halt, her heart hammered in her chest.

"End of the line, princess," the attacker sneered, raising his weapon.

Lirian’s grip on her dagger tightened.

She raised it, her hands began to shake. "Stay back," she warned, though her voice showed her fear.

The attacker lunged, and Lirian sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the strike.

She lashed out with her dagger, the blade caught his arm.

"Fuck!" He hissed in pain but didn’t flinch much, swinging at her again.

The clash was brief but brutal.

Lirian fought with every ounce of strength she had, desperate to escape.

She managed to disarm her opponent, sending his sword clattering to the ground.

But before she could press her advantage, another one came from the shadows, tackling her to the ground.

"No!" she screamed, thrashing against their hold.

They pinned her arms. "Enough," they shouted.

Lirian’s chest heaved as she glared up at them. She couldn’t understand why these men were attacking her right now... Right after she left the North...

"Who are you?" she demanded.

They didn’t bother to answer.

Instead, they reached into their cloak and pulled out a small vial.

Before Lirian could do anything, they uncorked it and pressed it to her lips.

The liquid burned as it slid down her throat, and her struggles weakened almost instantly.

Darkness surrounded the edges of her vision, and she felt herself slipping away.

The last thing she heard was the attacker’s voice.

"Take her to the Master. He’s been waiting for her."

Then, there was nothing.

"She fought harder than expected," the first cloaked man muttered, wiping blood from their arm.

"The rumors about her mana... they weren’t exaggerated."

The second one glanced at Lirian’s unconscious body, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"It’s unstable, but potent. No wonder Gabriel kept her close. He was probably trying to harness it."

The first one scoffed. "Foolish. Her kind of power can’t be controlled."

"That’s why the Master will be pleased," the second said with a smirk. "He’s been waiting for someone like her."

They lifted her limp body. "Let’s move. The sooner she’s in his hands, the better."