Chapter 31: The Cost of Mercy
{VLADIMIR}
The moment I descended into the underground, the air shifted—thickening into something feral and hungry.
Hissing curled from the stone walls. Claws scraped against rusted iron. The creatures lurking in those forgotten cells stirred at the scent of life, growling low like ravenous things waiting for a feast.
But the instant I stepped fully into the chamber—
Silence fell.
They slunk back into the black, recoiling like beasts sensing a greater predator. The dungeon itself shrunk around me, the shadows retreating as though afraid to be seen.
All except one.
"Iris."
She stood behind the bars, her hands gripping the hem of her dress so tightly her knuckles whitened. She did not lift her head. Her trembling shoulders told me she knew I was there long before I spoke.
I unlocked her cell. The door creaked open.
"Come."
She didn’t obey.
Her fingers curled tighter around the fabric of her skirt.
When she finally found her voice, it was a soft, fragile whisper.
"T-they... what will happen to them?"
I followed her gaze—the creatures hidden in the dark. The moment my eyes swept over them, they recoiled deeper into their pits, their breaths rattling like dying things.
"What about them?" I asked, uninterested.
"Are you going to kill them?"
Her tone held a trembling hope—one that irritated me more than any accusation.
"That’s right."
Slowly, she lifted her head.
Her eyes—amethyst, luminous even in the dim—met mine. Pure. Naive. Infuriatingly beautiful.
Something twisted deep inside me.
She bit her lip, and my gaze was drawn there, to the soft flesh, the trembling mouth I had no business wanting. My fangs ached. My hunger stirred—not for blood alone.
She had no idea what she was doing to me.
"I... I just..." She swallowed, her lashes trembling. "Can’t you free them instead?"
My eyes narrowed.
She truly had no understanding of this world.
If she would not learn gently...
Then she would learn the hard way.
====
{IRIS}
The moment Val’s silver eyes narrowed to thin, predatory slits, I knew I had said something foolish.
The cold in the dungeon didn’t just settle—it deepened, seeping into my bones, into my blood. The oppressive weight of his presence pressed against my chest, making each breath feel stolen rather than earned.
"And why," he said, the calmness in his voice more terrifying than any scream, "would I free them?"
My throat tightened. I felt as if the dungeon itself held its breath with me.
"I—I only thought..." I couldn’t finish. The words tangled in my throat, wilted beneath the crushing force of his gaze.
He took a step closer. The torchlight caught the edge of his smirk—a sharp, knowing curve that made my stomach twist.
"I could free them," he mused softly. "But then..." He leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret meant to break me. "The Blood Veil you consume each day—the one that hides your blood scent—would cease production."
I froze.
"What?" My voice cracked.
That vial... the one he insisted I drink... The protection I depended on...
His smirk deepened. "They are experiments, Iris."
My heart plummeted.
"Some are bred as food. Others are entertainment. But most..." His gaze slid to the dark cages surrounding us. "Most serve as ingredients. For potions you benefit from. And for potions I require."
It hit me like a blow.
I had been drinking the suffering of these creatures—unknowingly consuming the very thing stolen from them.
"You... that time we met..." My voice trembled. "You said you were hunting one of them. Was it for this?"
He chuckled—low, amused, cruel.
"That’s right." His eyes gleamed with a dark thrill. "That hag evaded me for years. Her heart was an ingredient beyond price. Even an Alpha werewolf would struggle to kill her. But you—" His gaze hardened into steel. "Or rather, the wolf sealed inside you—destroyed her with ease. Tore out her heart as if it were nothing."
A shiver ripped through me.
"My... wolf..." I whispered.
"Sleeping," he replied. "Overwhelmed by the power it devoured. A rare creature like her should make you far stronger. If you ever wake it."
He stepped closer, close enough for me to feel the cold of his breath against my cheek. His fingertips brushed my chin, tilting my head up until I stared straight into the abyss of his gaze.
"So tell me," he murmured, voice soft as velvet, deadly as a blade. "Do you still want to set them free?"
I tried to form words, but shame crowded my throat, choking the answer.
He saw it in an instant.
A quiet chuckle left him—dark, knowing, cutting.
"You don’t," he said, almost gently. "Because freedom for them would cost you something. And between their lives and your comfort... you chose yourself."
My chest tightened painfully. "N-no, that’s not—"
"Oh, but it is." He stepped back, his expression serious. "Do not speak of mercy when you do not understand the weight of sacrifice."
"B-but there must be another way," I whispered desperately. "Something that doesn’t involve tormenting them..."
The air shifted.
The dungeon grew suffocatingly still.
Lord Val’s pupils constricted into razor-sharp slits. He stared at me as though he were peeling back my skin, my soul, stripping me bare until only the truth remained.
I instinctively lowered my eyes, my head bowing as fear coiled in my gut. My body trembled despite every effort to remain steady.
His voice came softly—too softly.
"You have no right to speak of such things."
I flinched.
"You are a weak little werewolf," he continued, each word slicing deeper. "A creature who cannot even awaken her own wolf. You cannot save yourself, yet you speak of saving others?"
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, mortifying and unwelcome.
"You cling to ideals that will get you killed. This world is not meant for soft hearts."
His silver eyes burned into mine.
"Remember this, Iris: the weak have no place in our world. The only mercy we offer..." His gaze drifted toward the cages. "...is a quick death."
A sob rose in my throat, but I swallowed it—barely.
Lord Val stepped closer again, his voice a low whisper brushing my ear.
"If you want to save them... then become strong enough to make me change my mind."
My breath stilled.
"Until then," he added, "you don’t get to speak of what you want."
And in the next heartbeat—
He vanished.
Leaving nothing but the cold, the stench of fear, and the truth that shattered what little I had left.
I stood alone in the dark, trembling, my hands gripping my arms as if I were the only thing keeping myself from falling apart.
Because for the first time—
I truly understood the price of mercy.
And I understood just how powerless I was.
