Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 356: It Could Be a Trick

"Riona..."

She could have ended it right then. Her hand was poised mid-air, the fire burning hot in her palm, aimed straight for the demon’s throat. One clean shot and it would have been over. The demon would have been scorched from the inside out.

But her hand faltered.

That voice.

Florian’s voice, echoing through the darkness like a tether yanking her from the moment. She turned instinctively, breath catching at the sound of her name spoken by someone she thought she’d never hear again.

And that split second—that tiny fracture in her focus—was all it took. What could have ended the demon became her undoing.

The fireball in her hand flickered, lost heat. Her aim veered just enough to miss the kill. The shot went wide, glancing off the demon’s face. A tooth shattered, but pain wasn’t enough to stop it.

"Riona!!" Florian’s voice again, louder this time—desperate.

She couldn’t focus. Couldn’t breathe.

She dropped to her knees, the nothingness beneath her offering no resistance, like the world itself had vanished. Darkness stretched in every direction. No ground, no walls—just void.

But the voice was still there. Calling. Pulling her forward.

She scrambled toward it, hands scraping over unseen surfaces, pushing herself upright, stumbling, running. Because whatever waited beyond the dark, it had to be better than what was behind her.

But before she could reach her brother, something latched onto her ankle and yanked her backward. She twisted around, her heart pounding, and saw the demon’s hand clamped around her leg like a living shackle.

With a cry, she kicked at it. Once. Twice. Again.

Each strike landed with precision, her heel slamming into its wrist and fingers. The blows should have done something—should have loosened its grip. But the flesh beneath her foot rippled and melted, reforming around her with every hit. Like striking tar. Like trying to fight a nightmare.

Panic surged. She rolled onto her stomach and clawed at the darkness, trying to crawl away. Her free leg flailed, paddling the air as if she could swim through the void. But there was nothing beneath her. No ground. No walls. Nothing to push against.

The darkness gave no traction. And her escape felt more and more like a cruel illusion.

"Florian!!!" she called out for her brother.

The hand hoisted her into the air, her free leg swinging helplessly.

Riona clenched her core, twisted upward, and grabbed the demon’s wrist, straining to pry it off. She pushed with everything she had, muscles trembling with effort, but the creature was massive. Its strength dwarfed hers. It didn’t even flinch.

Gritting her teeth, she summoned her fire.

Warmth surged through her chest, racing down her arm. Another fireball formed in her palm—bright, volatile, ready. At this range, she couldn’t miss. One strike to the eye, maybe the mouth—whichever was vulnerable. She didn’t know. Didn’t care. She’d hit both if she had to.

But then—

"Riona, stop! Don’t do it!"

Florian’s voice was sharp, panicked, and real. She froze. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

It could be a trick. It had to be a trick. Ol’gaz was desperate now, cornered. Of course, it would use her brother’s voice to mess with her head. But what if it wasn’t?

What if this wasn’t just the demon’s manipulation? What if it was really Florian? What if striking now meant killing them both?

The fireball in her hand flickered. Her grip trembled. Doubt crept in, and with it, the first fracture in her resolve.

That’s when the demon slammed her into the ground.

Conveniently—almost mockingly—now there was a floor. Concrete, cold, unyielding.

It hurled her to the right, then the left, like a lump of dough being pounded into shape. Each impact rattled her bones. Her vision spun. Blood dripped from her nose, warm and metallic. She felt something wet at the back of her skull—probably blood, too—but there was no time to check. No time for pain.

She couldn’t afford to be helpless.

As the demon’s hand struck the floor again, she seized the moment. With a grunt, she unleashed a flurry of small fireballs around her ankle, forcing the molten grip to recoil just enough. It burned away the space she needed. She yanked herself free.

Rolling forward, she landed hard on one knee, breath ragged. She whipped her head around, scanning the shadows. She had to find Florian. She needed to see him, making sure he was safe, before she unleashed her Blood Moon power.

This was his subconscious, after all. Anything that happened here could ripple outward, damaging more than just his mind.

"Flo, where are you?"

Her voice echoed through the void—sharp, anxious. But no answer came. She narrowed her eyes, the silence pressing in.

Odd. He only seemed to speak when she was about to strike Ol’gaz, but now, when she wanted to hear him, he was silent.

Something wasn’t right.

"Flori—ugh!"

Riona didn’t get to finish. The hand struck again—this time wrapping around her midsection like a vice. Another clamped down on her legs. A third yanked at her head.

The demon was trying to tear her apart.

Her skull throbbed under the crushing grip. The pressure behind her eyes built to a scream. Then—

crack—one of her legs gave way. A sickening snap as the bone separated.

"Uarggghhhhh!!!!!"

Her scream tore through the darkness, but Florian remained silent.

Then came her arm. Wrenched in the opposite direction. Searing pain shot through her shoulder as the joint began to dislocate.

Her breath hitched in shallow, ragged bursts. Her face was soaked in tears. This was pain beyond anything she’d ever known. If she didn’t act now, she wouldn’t have a body left to save Florian with.

With the one limb still obeying her, she summoned crimson arrows—fiery streaks of desperate magic—aiming them at the creature’s hands. They struck, but did nothing. The demon didn’t even flinch.

She hesitated. Her ultimate power—her Blood Moon power—could end this. But if Florian was still in there... Could she risk it?

No.

Instead, she pushed herself to level two.

The energy burst from her in a violent shockwave, flinging her backward. The demon shrieked, guttural and furious, and its many hands finally released her.

She hit the ground hard. Rolled. Skidded. And didn’t rise.

Her leg was twisted and limp, useless. One arm hung like a dead weight at her side, the other clutched it as she tried to move. Her limbs flopped like the lifeless tentacles of some broken creature.

Still, she stood.

Or rather, she forced herself upright. Balancing on one leg, dragging the other behind, one hand gripping the shattered arm to keep it from tearing further.

Blood spilled from her mouth with every breath. But she wasn’t done yet.

Riona unleashed another surge of Level Two.

In the real world, this would have reduced a castle to rubble, just like it had scorched the Umbra Grounds into ash. But here, inside Florian’s subconscious, her power was tempered—dampened by invisible restraints. Not by the demon, but by the mind itself. The body’s last defense.

A safeguard. To protect him.

That was the price of fighting inside someone else’s soul.

And it was a warning: She couldn’t afford to be reckless—not if she truly meant to save Florian.

But Level Two wasn’t enough against something this massive. And Riona... was breaking.

Her strength drained with every breath. Her limbs shook, her body barely responding. Her vision blurred at the edges, like reality itself was slipping from her grasp. She staggered forward, then dropped, collapsing hard against the ground, panting.

Everything hurt. Her fire flickered low. She couldn’t move.

And then—

"Get up, Riona. It isn’t over until it’s over."

A voice. But not Florian’s. Not the demon’s either.