The Bride Of The Devil-Chapter 81: The Devil Hiding In The Shadows

"Hello, Prince Ivan," Ruslan said with a grin. "It’s been a long time. Years, I believe. But here we are again. How nice."

Ivan didn’t move. His jaw clenched tightly. His hands stayed near his sword.

"My apologies—you are now the Grand Duke," Ruslan added with a mocking bow, his grin not fading. "Quite the promotion. I didn’t expect the boy I once knew to grow into a man with titles."

His voice was smooth, too smooth. It slithered through the cold air like poison. And still, Ivan said nothing. He had come here to investigate the man behind Lydia’s pain, the one who had destroyed her life. He had never imagined it would be someone he once trusted. Someone he once thought of as family. Someone who had once been kind to him.

Now, standing face to face, it felt like the ground beneath him was shifting. The cold wind bit at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the storm rising in his chest.

He felt something shift inside him. Rage. Confusion. Betrayal. For the first time in a long while, Ivan was visibly shaken. His fingers twitched around the hilt of his sword. He didn’t draw it yet, but the weight of it pressed heavily against his palm.

Ruslan looked him over slowly. "I see you’re married now," he said, voice laced with fake curiosity, like a man admiring a painting he secretly wanted to set on fire.

Ivan’s brows twitched slightly.

"Didn’t take you for the marrying type," Ruslan continued casually, circling slowly, like a wolf with blood on its breath. "Always thought you’d die alone in a mask and a legend. But I hear she’s feisty—and blonde, with eyes as blue as the sea. Pretty little thing, isn’t she?"

Ivan’s grip on the sword hilt tightened until his knuckles turned white.

Ruslan tilted his head, watching him closely. His grin widened, crueler now. "Funny thing, she sounds exactly like the same girl I have unfinished business with."

Ivan’s breath caught in his throat. A sharp jolt of panic rushed through him, but he held still. His heart pounded louder with every second.

"You both seem close," Ruslan said, slowly walking closer. "So I’m guessing she told you how her parents died? Such a tragedy. Really broke her, didn’t it? The blood, the screaming... and she just stood there. Watching. Helpless."

He paused. Then leaned in ever so slightly and whispered, "Do you know what her mother’s last words were?"

That was it.

Ivan’s heart exploded in his chest. The pain in Lydia’s eyes, the nightmares, the way she cried in her sleep—they all came rushing back. He unsheathed his sword so fast the metal sang through the air. He pointed it at Ruslan, the blade trembling slightly in his grip.

"How could you do that to her?" Ivan shouted, his voice hoarse with fury. "How could you kill innocent people—in front of their child? She was just a girl!"

Ruslan didn’t flinch. He stood there with the blade against his throat, smiling softly.

"You act like you’re innocent," Ruslan said. "But I know what you are. You forgot I was there when the monster in you was born."

Ivan’s hand froze. The blade was still pressed against Ruslan’s neck, trembling slightly.

For a moment, something flickered in Ivan’s eyes. Doubt. Pain. A memory.

The snow whispered around them, cold and silent. Ivan’s breath came out in harsh clouds. His chest rose and fell with a deep ache that had nothing to do with the cold. Somewhere deep inside, something cracked.

Then he pushed his hand forward in a sudden, angry motion. The blade cut deeper into Ruslan’s skin, enough to draw more blood, but not to kill.

Ruslan hissed slightly but didn’t pull back. His eyes shone with something that looked almost like satisfaction.

"Go on. Kill me," he said with a low chuckle. "We both know you’ve always wanted to. You were just pretending not to. You always hated pretending, didn’t you?"

Ivan gritted his teeth, his hands shaking.

"But if you kill me now," Ruslan added calmly, "the girl dies."

Ivan’s eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"You think I came alone? You think I’m stupid? Of course not. I know you, Ivan. I know how you work. You wouldn’t let your guard down unless you were sure you could win. But while we’re talking, they’re already there. At the inn. With her."

Ivan lowered his sword slightly. His heart was pounding in his chest.

No. No, not Lydia. freewёbnoνel-com

His mouth went dry. A thousand dark thoughts crowded his mind, choking him.

Ruslan smiled darkly.

Ivan didn’t wait to hear more. He shoved Ruslan away, the sword leaving a red trail across his neck.

"I swear," Ivan said with pure hatred in his voice, "I’ll kill you one day."

Ruslan didn’t even flinch. He just stepped back, laughing softly. "I wait for that day."

Without wasting another second, Ivan turned and ran. His feet crushed the snow under him as he rushed through the darkness, back toward the inn. His mind was racing. Lydia. She was alone. And he knew—Ruslan wasn’t bluffing.

He didn’t even feel the cold anymore. His lungs burned as he ran faster. Branches whipped past him. Trees blurred in his vision. There was only one thought screaming in his head—please let her be safe.

---

Meanwhile, Lydia was still in her room at the inn. She had stopped crying, but she didn’t feel any better. Her arms were wrapped around her knees as she sat on the bed, staring at the floor.

The image of Ruslan’s face wouldn’t leave her mind. That smirk. Those eyes. That terrible, terrible face. Her chest felt tight. Her fingers dug into her dress, trying to make it stop. But it wouldn’t go away.

She could still hear his voice, like a shadow stuck in her ears. Every time she blinked, she saw blood. The memory twisted in her stomach like a knife.

Her body felt cold all over. Her skin crawled as if he were still in the room, standing behind her, breathing down her neck.

Outside her door, footsteps echoed in the corridor. Slow. Steady.

A man in dark clothes walked quietly toward her room. His hand reached into his coat and pulled out a knife. It glinted under the faint hallway light. He stepped in front of Lydia’s door and raised his fist to knock...

TO BE CONTINUED

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