That Prince Is A Girl The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate novel Chapter 382

Chapter 382
Kelvin trembled, then spat on the ground. “Let’s go.” He turned on his heel and took off at a run.

Zaiper followed, smirking.

But the humor was fading. The streets were littered with bodies—many vampire bodies and a few werewolves, but not a single Urekai. How had my plan fallen apart so severely? Someone betrayed me.

They turned a corner, ducking into a narrow corridor, half-collapsed from skirmish.

“We’ll go through the North quarter,” Zaiper muttered. “There’s a tunnel entrance beyond the archives—”

“No,” Kelvin snapped. “This way. It’s clear. I just passed through.”

Zaiper narrowed his eyes. “And how exactly do you know it’s—”

“Trust me, or find your own damn way,” Kelvin snarled.

Zaiper bit down his response. I’m killing him the second I have my strength back.

He followed. The corridor narrowed.

Dead silence. Too much silence.

Then, a shadow detached from the wall.

A tall, dark figure stepped into view, cloaked in shadow. Zaiper’s stomach dropped.

Azrael.

Fuck. Fuck.

Zaiper bolted.

Azrael didn’t chase.

Zaiper took off to the wooded path, heart hammering, feet hammering harder. Ahead, Yaz appeared from behind a tree, sword drawn. Zaiper deviated sharply, cursing, veering in the other direction. He was running blind but he knew these woods like the back of his hands. He’d grown up in them.

Damn that vampire. He’d led him straight to slaughter. He should never have come tonight—not in his weakened state, not under an eclipse moon leeching the strength from his bones. But he just needed to stay hidden until morning. Then, he’d find a way to regroup and rise again.

He reached one of his old hiding spots, a small overhang in the forest, its hollow concealed by roots and stones. It was familiar and safe.

But the hairs on his arms lifted. His beast stirred—in fear. The feeling of prey.

You are being hunted.

Zaiper went rigid. “Who the fuck is there?!” he barked, voice rising. “I’m an Alpha! How dare you hunt me?!” His fangs bared. “Come out! Face me right now!”

Nothing. Just wind and birds. The rustle of trees.

That was the worst part of being prey: not seeing what hunts you. Not hearing it.

“Stop hiding, you coward!” he roared, spinning. “Face me!”

The woods fell silent. Even the crickets stopped.

Run! his instincts screamed. Run, right now!

He took off again, ducking, zig-zagging through the trees. He moved like a shadow, calling on every survival tactic he knew—ducking behind trunks, doubling back, crawling through roots. It didn’t help. That prickling sensation didn’t fade.

The presence behind him didn’t lessen, no matter what he did. In fact… it grew closer.

Daemonikai.