The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 190

Hours passed. The air in the cell had thickened, heavy with sweat, fear, and the acrid scent of old magic. It clung to Saphira’s skin, made her lungs feel tight. Dax lay curled on his side, trembling, his skin pale and clammy. Each breath was a shallow rasp, wet and uneven.

Saphira knelt beside him, her shackled hands trembling as she brushed damp hair from his forehead. “He’s fading,” she whispered, voice cracking. “We’re running out of time.”

Vaelora stirred inside her, stronger now, like a storm pressing against the edges of a cage. *‘I’m close,’* the dragon murmured. *‘Vorthar is too. We’re pushing against the bindings. But not yet.’*

Across the cell, Nikolas gritted his teeth and pulled hard against his restraints. The metal groaned, resisting. Again. And again. His muscles strained, veins standing out along his arms. Then with a sharp crack, one of the wall bolts snapped loose.

He froze, panting, eyes wide with adrenaline. Then he looked up, eyes blazing. “I’ve got one.”

Saphira’s heart leapt. “Try the other.”

Nikolas turned, braced his foot against the wall, and pulled. This one took longer. Sweat dripped from his brow, his breath ragged. With a grunt and a burst of effort, it gave way. He staggered forward, free.

He crossed the cell in three strides and dropped to his knees beside her. “Your turn.”

She nodded, bracing herself. His hands found the chain at her back and pulled. The cuffs resisted, humming with Elder magic, but Vaelora surged in her chest, lending her just enough strength to push back. The metal cracked with a sharp snap.

Saphira gasped as the restraints fell away. Her wrists throbbed, red and raw, but she didn’t care. She was free.

They moved fast. Nikolas helped Kael and Riven first, then Lira. Saphira rushed to Brenna, who was pale but alert, and finally to Dax. His body was limp, barely stirring as they unshackled him.

“How do we get out?” Saphira asked, breathless, her voice tight with urgency.

Nikolas looked toward the door, his jaw set. “Together. We use everything we have. Strength, speed, whatever’s left.”

Brenna stepped forward, swaying slightly. Her hands trembled. “I’m weak,” she said, voice thin. “But I can cast a detection spell. See if anyone’s nearby. That’s all I can do right now.”

Saphira placed a hand on her shoulder. “That’s enough. That’s helpful.”

Brenna nodded and knelt, pressing her palm to the stone floor. Her fingers glowed faintly as she whispered the incantation. A pulse of magic rippled outward, brushing the edges of the corridor.

“They’re not in the cells,” she said, eyes fluttering open. “But they’re close.”

Nikolas’s jaw tightened. “Then we move now. Before they come to us.”

They slipped through the corridor, silent and swift. The door at the end creaked open into blinding light, and then trees. A forest. The scent of pine and damp earth hit Saphira like a wave, bringing her back to the real world and disorienting her all at once.

But they weren’t alone.

Standing in the clearing ahead were Alpha James, Beta Alex, and Mara. Behind them loomed six figures cloaked in shadow and power, two witches, two wolves, and two vampires. Elders.

One of them stepped forward.

Saphira’s breath caught. She knew that face. The same Elder who had been there when she rescued Nikolas, he managed to get away. He held a vial in one hand, a dagger in the other. The liquid inside shimmered with the same iridescent glow they’d seen in the cell.

Nikolas moved closer to her, his body tense, protective.

Saphira didn’t speak. She looked at him, eyes locking with his, and opened the mind-link.

*“What do we do now?”*

Nikolas stepped forward, boots crunching against the forest floor, each stride deliberate, defiant. The Elders stood in a loose semicircle, cloaked in shadow and power, their robes whispering with enchantment. Their expressions were unreadable, except for the one holding the dagger and vial, whose smile curled with anticipation, like a predator savouring the moment before the kill.

“You’re corrupt,” Nikolas said, voice low but resonant, cutting through the silence like a blade. “You call yourselves guardians of balance, but you’re nothing but murderers. You slaughtered innocents. You poisoned Dax. You’ve twisted everything you were meant to protect.”

The Elder with the dagger tilted his head, amused. “Such passion. Such loyalty. How quaint.”

Another Elder—a vampire with silver-threaded hair, laughed, the sound sharp and cold, like glass shattering. “You think words matter here?”

Saphira stood just behind Nikolas, fists clenched at her sides, her heart pounding against her ribs. Vaelora surged inside her, restless and furious, clawing at the edges of the magical suppression. Not yet free, but close. The others flanked them, tense and silent, their eyes locked on the enemy.

Nikolas’s voice rose, fury threading through every word. “You won’t walk away from this. Not after what you’ve done.”

The Elder with the dagger stepped forward, lifting the vial with a flourish. The liquid inside shimmered, iridescent, wrong, alive with dark magic. “Let’s step this up a notch,” he said, almost cheerfully.

He uncorked the vial and poured the contents over the blade. The dagger hissed as the poison met metal, a faint curl of smoke rising from its edge. The air around it shimmered with heat and malice.

Saphira’s breath caught.

The Elder’s arm snapped forward.

The dagger flew through the air, silent, fast, aimed straight for her heart... again.

But before she could move, Nikolas did.

He lunged, faster than thought, his body twisting mid-motion. The dagger struck with a sickening thud, burying itself deep in his upper stomach.

Saphira screamed.

Nikolas collapsed to his knees, then to the ground, his breath punched from his lungs. Blood bloomed across his shirt, dark and fast, soaking into the earth.

The Elders laughed.

Mocking. Cold. Triumphant.

“You think you can challenge us?” one of the witch Elders sneered, her voice laced with venom. “You’re insects.”

“We are untouchable,” the vampire Elder added, his tone like ice cracking.

Saphira dropped beside Nikolas, her hands trembling as she pressed against the wound. “Stay with me,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Please. Please.”

Nikolas’s eyes fluttered open, pain etched into every line of his face. “I’m here,” he rasped. “Still here.”

Then the wind shifted.

A howl echoed through the trees.

Figures burst from the forest edge, fast and furious. The Arrax pack.

Jed led the charge, his eyes blazing, his body already shifting mid-run. Behind him came warriors, wolves, witches, dragons, every one of them ready, every one of them furious.

Saphira looked up, her breath catching in her throat.

*They came. They heard me.*

The Elders turned, their laughter faltering.

Let the fight begin.