The Messenge (Iva and Nick) novel Chapter 395

Summary for Chapter 395: The Messenge (Iva and Nick)

The Messenger werewolf novel Iva and Nick Chapter 395, by Elle Vintea read online Free PDF

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Fight for Survival I

The place had become a cage.

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Iva’s back pressed against the cold stone wall, her arms wrapped protectively around Youssef, her heart pounding so violently she could feel it in her throat. The bundle of her belongings Jay forgotten at her feet, abandoned in the chaos of the moment.

Rauno stepped toward her, his movements slow and deliberate, each footfall echoing in the tense silence. His face was a mask of conflicting emotions-hurt, anger, betrayal.

“I trusted you,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I confided in you. I opened my heart to you. I fell.

for you.” His last sentence was said in disgust.

Iva’s breath caught in her throat.

“And yet,” Rauno continued, his voice hardening, “the fate can be so cruel sometimes.”

Iva stammered, taking a step back, her mind racing.

“What do you mean? Rauno, I don’t-”

She jumped as figures emerged from the shadows behind him. More hunters. Their faces were grim, their eyes cold and assessing. They had been waiting, watching, ready to close in the

moment she made her move.

Rauno sneered, his expression twisting with disgust.

“A little too convenient to go for a walk at this hour,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “Holding your son and with your items packed. You weren’t going for a walk, were you, Iva? You

were running.”

Iva tried to steady her voice, to hold her ground.

“It’s not your business what I’m doing or where I’m going. I don’t belong here. I never did.”

Rauno’s smile was predatory, his eyes gleaming with a cold light that made her blood run cold.

“Oh, but it is my business,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Especially when I’ve been taken for a fool. You were under our noses this entire time. You and that monster in your

arms.”

Iva’s heart froze.

She looked at Rauno, at the hunters closing in around her, at Sister Ophelia standing in the

shadows with her cold, knowing eyes.

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They knew.

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Somehow, they knew what she was.

She cursed herself for not running days ago, for not trusting her instincts, for letting her guard

down around these hunters. For socialising with them.

One of the hunters lunged forward, his hand reaching for Youssef.

“No!” Iva screamed.

She dodged, twisting her body to shield her son from the grasping hand. Her arm shot out, blocking the hunter’s advance, and her claws-her claws had extended without her realizing it-

raked across his hand.

The hunter howled in pain, stumbling back, clutching his injured hand.

“You fucking bitch!” he shouted, his face contorted with rage.

Iva stared at her hand, at the claws that had emerged in her panic. The patches of fur were spreading up her arm, her eyes glowing with an amber light that was unmistakably wolf.

Rauno’s expression hardened, his voice cold and commanding.

“Finally she showed her true colours. Seize her.”

The corridor erupted into chaos.

Iva’s instincts took over, primal and desperate, as the hunters closed in around her. She held Youssef tightly against her chest, her body coiled and ready, her claws extended and gleaming in the dim light. The patches of fur on her arms had spread, and her eyes blazed with an amber fire

that she couldn’t control.

She was no longer just Iva.

She was a mother fighting for her child.

The first hunter lunged at her, his blade glinting in the moonlight. She dodged, twisting her body, and drove her claws into his shoulder. He screamed, stumbling back, but another took his place.

“You’ll pay for that!” one of them snarled, reaching for Youssef.

Iva spun, her elbow connecting with his jaw. He staggered, but she knew she couldn’t hold them off forever. There were too many of them.

“Give us the child!” another shouted, his voice cold and commanding.

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“No!” Iva screamed, her voice echoing through the corridor. “You will not touch him!”

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She fought with a ferocity that surprised even herself. Her claws sliced through the air, catching

flesh and fabric. She kicked, scratched, bit, anything to keep them away from her son.

But they kept coming.

Rauno watched from the shadows, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He hadn’t moved

to help her, but he hadn’t stopped the others either.

“Surrender, Iva,” he called out, his voice calm. “There’s no point in resisting.”

Iva ignored him, her focus entirely on the next attacker.

She ducked under his swing, drove her knee into his stomach, and brought her elbow down on the back of his neck. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Another took his place.

And another.

She was panting now, her muscles burning, her vision blurring with exhaustion. She had managed to keep them at bay, but she knew she couldn’t last much longer.

“Please,” she gasped, her voice cracking. “Please, just let us go. I mean no harm. I am no threat to anyone. You know me for so long.”

Rauno’s expression flickered with something-pity, perhaps. But then it hardened again.

“I can’t do that, Iva. You’ve brought this on yourself.”

She wanted to scream at him, to tell him that she had never chosen this, that she was just trying to survive. But the words died in her throat as another hunter lunged at her, his blade aimed directly

at Youssef.

She twisted, shielding her son with her body, but the hunter’s blow caught her on the side of the head. Her vision exploded with white light, and she stumbled, her grip on Youssef faltering.

“NO!” she screamed, her voice raw and desperate.

She clung to Youssef, shielding him with her body, as darkness crept into the edges of her vision. She fought to stay conscious, fought to protect her son.

But the blow had been too strong.

Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor, her arms still wrapped around Youssef. The last thing she saw was Rauno’s face, his expression unreadable, as he stepped toward her.

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“I’m sorry, Iva,” she heard him say, his voice distant and fading. “I truly am.”

And then everything went dark.

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The pain was the first thing she felt.

It crashed over her like a wave, sharp and relentless, radiating from the side of her head where the

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hunter’s blow had landed. Her skull throbbed with a deep, sickening ache, and every movement sent fresh spikes of agony through her body.

She tried to move.

She couldn’t.

Her arms were pinned to her sides, her legs immobilized, her entire body strapped to a cold, hard surface. Panic flooded through her as she struggled against the restraints, her heart pounding with

primal terror.

She opened her eyes.

The world swam into focus, blurred and disorienting. She was in the infirmary-she recognized the familiar stone walls, the shelves of herbs and medicines, the faint scent of antiseptic that hung in

the air.

But she wasn’t in a bed.

She was strapped to a table.

Leather restraints bound her wrists and ankles, her torso secured with thick straps that made it impossible to move. She tried to move, to twist, to find any weakness in the bindings, but they held

firm.

She tried to shout but her mouth was blocked by the gag.

Her eyes darted around the room, searching desperately for Youssef.

He wasn’t there.

Her son was gone.

A scream tore from her throat, muffled by the gag, raw and desperate. She thrashed against the restraints, her body convulsing with the force of her terror.

“WHERE IS MY SON?!” she tried to scream, but it came out a mangled sound.

The door opened, and Sister Ophelia stepped inside. Her face was calm, her expression

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unreadable, as she approached the table.

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