CHAPTER 337: UNBOTHERED

SAGE

The evening air was cool, kissed with the faint scent of rain and pine. I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders as I wandered through the paved streets of the colony, each stone still faintly warm beneath my boots from the day’s sun.

Lanterns hung from black iron posts, their soft orange glow spilling over the cobblestones, catching the wary faces of those who passed me.

They didn’t say much—no one dared to anymore—but they looked. Always looked. Some bowed their heads, others stepped aside, giving me a wide berth as though I carried the plague.

A few, the bolder ones, gave a respectful nod, murmuring greetings like "Champion" or "Lady Sage." I neither corrected nor acknowledged them. Titles were meaningless when you were one fight away from either glory or death.

Tomorrow was the final match. The one that would decide everything. Darius versus Sage. Alpha’s chosen versus the wild card. And I was expected to bleed for their entertainment again.

I exhaled, a dry laugh escaping me. The last few days had been strangely quiet. Too quiet. Since the dinner—since I’d disrespected the royals, looked them in the eye, mocked them with my smile—no one had summoned me, questioned me, or even dared a reprimand. Not even the queen’s presence had returned. It was as if they were waiting for something.

Or planning.

The thought amused me more than it should have.

Isla had retired early after our training session hours ago, grumbling about her aching muscles. I hadn’t wanted to disturb her sleep. She needed it more than I needed company.

Raul hadn’t visited again either—not after I forbade him. As much as I enjoyed his touch, his recklessness could ruin everything I’d built here. He was loyal, impulsive, too easily led by emotion. And I didn’t need affection now. I needed clarity.

The path curved toward the outer market district, where the hum of evening life buzzed faintly in the distance. Merchants packing up their stalls, children chasing each other between lamp posts, laughter spilling from taverns where warriors gathered to drink away the day’s blood. The air was thick with roasted meat, sweat, and ale.

My boots slowed as I caught sight of a group of werewolf warriors huddled near a forge, their armor glinting red in the firelight. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop—well, maybe I did—but their voices carried easily.

"She’s something else, that one," one of them said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

"Something unnatural," another muttered. "Did you see the way she looked when she won? Like death smiling."

"Still, I’d rather have her beside me in battle than against me," a third replied with a low whistle. "The way she took down Marrek—gods, I’ve never seen a wolf hit that hard."

Their words floated toward me, carried by the wind. Awe tinged their tones, layered with wariness. It was a sound I’d grown familiar with—a mixture of fear and fascination. The kind of respect born from terror, not admiration.

Good.

I didn’t need their affection. I only needed their obedience.

I moved on, leaving their murmurs behind. The deeper I walked, the quieter it became. The paved road gave way to soft dirt and wild grass, the air thick with the whisper of leaves.

Already, this colony was way behind—the shimmering curve of the protective barrier marking the line between civilization and here, had been passed miles ago. But beyond the colony, a forest loomed, dark and breathing, ancient in its stillness.

I hesitated for a moment, glancing around. A few sentries stood near the barrier, their silver armor gleaming faintly under the lanterns. They saw me approaching and immediately stepped aside. None dared stop me.

The forest swallowed me whole.

The sounds changed—the steady pulse of the colony fading into the low rustle of trees and distant calls of nocturnal creatures. Moonlight poured through the gaps in the branches, painting the ground with pale silver. My boots made almost no sound as I walked, and with each step, tension unwound in my shoulders. Finally, peace.

Or so I thought.

The scream shattered it.

It was faint but sharp, a desperate cry that sliced through the stillness like a knife. I stopped mid-step, head turning toward the sound. It came again—shorter, weaker this time.

My fingers twitched. I sighed, muttering under my breath. "So much for peace."

I started toward the sound, moving swiftly but silently, following the scent of blood that now drifted faintly on the breeze. It wasn’t human blood alone—it was tainted with an extra, corrupted with something foul.

When I reached the clearing, I slowed. The scene before me was... messy.

A woman lay sprawled against the base of a tree, her head tilted at an odd angle, eyes wide with horror but still alive. Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, but no sound came. Her throat was slick with blood. Kneeling before her was a man—or what had once been a man, or had never been that.

He wore a dark, tailored coat that looked far too fine for the forest, its edges brushing the dirt. His skin was corpse-pale, stretched too thin over sharp bones, and his hair hung in greasy black strands that swayed as he moved. When he turned slightly, I caught sight of his mouth—blood dripping from his lips, fangs glinting.

A vampire.

His eyes, when they met mine, were pits of burning red. But he didn’t stop feeding. He pressed his mouth back to the woman’s neck, drawing out another ragged breath from her before she fell still again.

I didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

The woman’s eyes shifted weakly toward me, pleading—perhaps hoping for help, perhaps just trying to make sense of the fact that someone was watching.

Poor thing. A poor werewolf.

From the looks of it, she hadn’t been kidnapped. She’d come here willingly. Seduced, maybe. The vampire’s coat, his carefully styled mannerisms—it all screamed manipulation. She must have thought she’d found a charming lover, not a monster.

How easily humans—or wolves now—forgot what danger looked like when it wore beauty as a mask.

The vampire continued his work, hunched over her like an artist perfecting his final stroke. I leaned against a nearby tree, folding my arms. There was no need to interrupt. Not yet.

The forest was still around us, save for the faint sucking sound as he fed. The moonlight turned his skin almost blue, his shadow stretched long and crooked. I watched him with detached curiosity, my pulse unbothered.

It was almost fascinating—the ritualistic nature of it. The way vampires fed wasn’t just hunger. It was reverence. A kind of worship twisted by time and bloodlust.

The woman’s eyes rolled back, the light in them fading slowly. Still, I didn’t move. I waited until the vampire was done—until he released her body and it slumped lifelessly onto the forest floor.

He exhaled, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Finished?" I asked, my voice quiet, almost bored.

He stiffened, head snapping toward me, as if he had forgotten I was there. Maybe, he had.

For a moment, his expression was confusion—then recognition. And fear.

Good.

Now we could talk.