The Princess's Revenge Chapter 134

Valencia’s POV

Finally, Logan stopped. He held up his hand, signaling us to be quiet.

Ahead of us, I could see faint light filtering through a metal grate in the ceiling. Stone steps led upward.

"The dungeons are just above us," Logan whispered. "Stay alert."

We climbed the steps carefully. Each one was slippery with moisture. At the top, Logan pushed against the grate. It lifted with a soft scrape of metal on stone.

He peered out, then pulled himself up. I followed, and Mason and his two warriors came after us.

We were in a narrow corridor. Stone walls pressed in on both sides. The air was damp and cold, but at least it didn't smell like the sewers anymore.

Well, not much anyway.

Logan pointed down the corridor. "The main dungeon cells are that way. Aldric's cell should be at the far end."

We moved forward quietly. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure everyone could hear it.

The corridor opened into a larger space. This was the dungeon entrance. Heavy wooden doors stood before us, reinforced with iron bands.

Logan approached the doors and pushed. They swung open with a low creak that made me wince.

The moment we stepped through, the smell hit me.

Blood. So much blood.

I clapped my hand over my nose and mouth, fighting the urge to vomit. The metallic scent was overwhelming, thick enough to taste.

Logan's face went pale. Even Mason, who had seen countless battles, looked shaken.

"Goddess," I whispered.

This wasn't just blood. This was the smell of slaughter. Of death. Of something terrible that had happened here recently.

Most of the torches had gone out. Only a few still burned, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. In that weak light, I could see dark stains covering the floor. Huge pools of dried blood, some still wet and glistening.

The walls were splattered with it too. Long streaks ran down the stone, as if someone had been dragged along them while bleeding.

Several cell doors stood open. Empty. Dark.

My instincts screamed danger. Logan moved forward quickly, heading toward the cell where Aldric had been kept. I stayed close behind him, my legs trembling.

When we reached the cell, the door was wide open.

Logan stopped in the doorway. I heard him suck in a sharp breath.

I looked past him into the cell.

Empty.

But the walls and floor were covered in blood. So much blood. Dark and dried, coating nearly every surface. In the corner, I saw torn pieces of fabric. They looked like they'd been ripped from someone's clothing.

My heart sank like a stone.

"He's dead," I said quietly. "Aldric is dead."

Logan's jaw clenched. Through our bond, I felt his rage building like a storm.

This wasn't a simple execution. The amount of blood, the way it was spread across the walls and floor—this had been brutal. Cruel. Someone had tortured Aldric before killing him.

"Check the other cells," Logan ordered.

Mason and his warriors moved down the row, looking into each cell.

Every single one was empty.

Every single one had blood.

"All the prisoners are gone," Mason reported. His voice was tight. "Every cell shows signs of violence."

I looked around the dungeon again. This whole place was a slaughterhouse.

My instincts screamed louder. Danger. Danger. Danger.

"We need to leave," I said. My voice came out higher than I intended. "Now. Something is very wrong here."

Logan turned to face me. His gray eyes were dark with fury, but I could see he was thinking clearly.

"She's right," Mason said. "Alpha, if Elton did this, if he's already killed all the prisoners and potentially the Alpha King, then we're standing in the middle of enemy territory. We could be surrounded at any moment."

Logan nodded slowly. "We go. Now."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the dungeon entrance. Mason and his warriors followed close behind.

But as we reached the doorway, I heard a sound that made my blood freeze.

Metal scraping against stone.

Behind us.

I spun around.

The heavy iron gate at the far end of the dungeon was sliding down, sealing off the corridor we'd come through.

"Run!" Logan shouted.

We sprinted toward the stairs leading up from the dungeon. But before we could reach them, another iron gate dropped from the ceiling with a deafening crash. It slammed into the floor, blocking our path.

We were trapped.

Sealed in a narrow corridor between two iron gates, with the empty dungeon cells on one side and solid stone walls on the other.

My heart hammered in my chest. "It's a trap. This whole thing was a trap."

Logan's face went hard. "Elton knew we were coming. He knew we'd go to the dungeons looking for Aldric."

Mason drew his sword. "Defensive positions!"

His two warriors moved to stand with their backs to us, weapons raised.

For several seconds, nothing happened. We stood in that corridor, breathing hard, waiting.

Then I heard a sound that made my skin crawl.

Click. Click. Click.

Small holes opened in the walls on both sides of the corridor. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.

"Get down!" Logan roared.

The arrows came like rain.

Whistling through the air from every direction. So many I couldn't count them.

Logan shifted instantly. One moment he was human, the next Knox stood before me—massive, black, terrifying. He threw his body over mine, shielding me completely.

I felt his muscles tense as arrows slammed into him. Heard his grunt of pain as they pierced his thick fur and hide.

"Logan!" I screamed.

But he didn't move. He kept his body curved around mine, taking every arrow meant for me.

Around us, I heard shouts. Screams. The wet thud of arrows hitting flesh.

Mason was fighting, trying to shield his men. But there was nowhere to hide. The corridor was too narrow. The arrows came from every angle.

I heard one of Mason's warriors cry out and fall.

Then the other.

"No!" Mason's voice was filled with rage and grief.

More arrows. Wave after wave. They never stopped.

Knox growled in pain above me. I could feel his blood dripping onto my clothes. Through the gaps between his legs, I saw Mason. He was still standing, still fighting. But his body was riddled with arrows. Blood poured from dozens of wounds.

He tried to take a step toward us. More arrows hit him. Ten. Twenty. His body jerked with each impact.

"Mason!" I screamed.

He fell to his knees. Blood bubbled from his lips. There was only desperation in his gaze. Then he collapsed forward onto the blood-soaked floor.

"No! No, no, no!" Tears streamed down my face.

The other warriors were already dead. All of them. Soren's ten elite fighters, cut down in seconds.

The arrows kept coming.

Knox was covered in them now. His black fur was matted with blood. He looked like some nightmarish creature, bristling with wooden shafts.

But still he didn't move. Still he protected me with his body.

I could feel his pain through our bond. Burning, searing agony with each arrow that found its mark.

"Logan, please," I sobbed. "Please, you have to shift back. You'll die."

He didn't respond. Couldn't respond in wolf form. But through our bond, I felt his determination. He would die before he let anything hurt me.

The arrows continued for what felt like forever.

Then, finally, they stopped.

Silence fell over the corridor. Broken only by Knox's labored breathing and the sound of blood dripping onto stone.

I looked around from beneath Knox's body.

The corridor was a scene from a nightmare.

Bodies everywhere. Mason and his warriors lying in pools of blood, their bodies pierced by so many arrows they looked like grotesque pincushions. Some had been pinned to the walls by the force of the arrows.

The smell of blood was overwhelming now. Fresh and hot, mixing with the old dried blood from the dungeon.

Knox's legs trembled. He was barely staying upright.

"Logan," I whispered. "Please shift back. Please."

Slowly, painfully, Knox began to shift. His body shrank and changed. Within seconds, Logan collapsed beside me, human once more.

He was covered in wounds. Dozens of arrow punctures dotted his chest, arms, back, and legs. Blood flowed freely from all of them.

"Logan!" I grabbed him, pressing my hands against the worst wounds, trying to stop the bleeding.

His face was pale. His breathing shallow.

"I'm fine," he gasped. But he clearly wasn't.

Then I heard it.

Slow, deliberate clapping.

The sound echoed through the corridor, coming from the far end where the iron gate had fallen.

I looked up.

Through the bars of the gate, I could see figures emerging from the shadows.