Bound to the vampire I must kill-Chapter 31: Swift and precise

Chapter 31

Seraphina barely had time to react before she felt the wind rush past her face.

One second, she was inside the carriage, arrows flying past her. The next, Rhydian had shattered through the wooden frame, holding her tightly as they crashed onto the dirt road.

The impact sent a jolt through her body, knocking the breath from her lungs. But before she could even register what had happened, Rhydian was already moving—his grip firm, steady—shielding her before her back could even touch the ground.

A sharp twang sliced through the air.

Another arrow.

Rhydian twisted, his arm wrapping around her protectively as the arrow struck the dirt just inches away. He didn’t hesitate. In one swift motion, he stood, pulling her with him, his sharp crimson gaze flicking toward the trees.

Seraphina could hear them now. The sound of boots crunching against fallen leaves, the low rustle of movement in the darkness.

More than a dozen figures emerged from the shadows, surrounding them. Their faces were hidden beneath dark hoods, their weapons glinting under the faint moonlight.

She stiffened, readying herself to fight, but before she could even reach for her weapon, Rhydian stepped in front of her.

"Stay behind me," he ordered, his voice calm, but firm.

Seraphina frowned. "I can—"

"Don’t." His tone left no room for argument.

Then, without warning, the first attacker lunged.

Rhydian moved so fast she almost didn’t see it. One second, the attacker was charging at them, blade raised. The next, Rhydian had already closed the distance, his hand snapping forward with lethal precision.

A sickening crack echoed in the air.

The man’s body crumpled instantly, his weapon slipping from his grasp as he collapsed. Rhydian didn’t even pause. Before the next attacker could react, he grabbed the fallen man’s sword and hurled it with terrifying accuracy.

The blade struck another enemy in the throat. A gurgled choke, a stumble—then silence.

Seraphina’s heart pounded as she watched him move.

Effortless. Precise. Deadly.

The attackers rushed in all at once. Five, six—maybe more. But it didn’t matter. Rhydian tore through them like they were nothing.

He dodged a sword swing, twisted, and drove his elbow into one man’s ribs so hard the sickening crunch of bone breaking filled the air. Before the man even had time to fall, Rhydian grabbed his shoulder, using the momentum to launch himself forward.

He landed a brutal kick against another enemy’s chest, sending him flying backward into a tree.

Every move was calculated, every strike lethal.

Seraphina had seen skilled fighters before. She had trained her whole life to survive, to be stronger than anyone who would dare cross her.

But this...

This was something else.

Rhydian didn’t fight like a man.

He fought like a predator.

Fast. Efficient. Like he had done this a thousand times before and already knew exactly how it would end.

And the worst part? He was barely trying.

A blade flashed toward his back.

Seraphina gasped—instinct screaming at her to move, to help—

But before she could even take a step, Rhydian spun, catching the attacker’s wrist mid-strike. With terrifying ease, he wrenched the weapon from the man’s grasp and drove it straight into his chest.

A strangled cry—then silence.

Seraphina’s breath hitched.

Rhydian let the body drop, his crimson gaze darkening as he turned toward the remaining attackers.

And then—he noticed it.

They weren’t aiming for him.

Every attack, every arrow, every desperate strike—they were all aimed at her.

His expression shifted instantly.

The amusement that had flickered in his eyes when teasing her earlier was gone. The usual smug arrogance, the effortless confidence—gone.

What replaced it was something far more dangerous.

Rage.

His lips curled back slightly, his fangs glinting under the dim moonlight.

"You’re after her," he muttered, voice low, lethal.

None of the attackers responded.

Cowards.

Rhydian inhaled slowly, exhaling through his nose. He flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders.

And then—he let loose.

He moved faster this time. Not just calculated, not just efficient—brutal.

The next man who lunged at him barely had time to raise his sword before Rhydian’s hand shot out, grabbing his face. With a single, devastating motion, he slammed the man’s head into the ground with enough force to make the earth tremble beneath them.

Another attacker came from behind. Rhydian didn’t even turn around. He simply stepped to the side, grabbed the man’s arm mid-swing, and twisted.

A sickening snap. A scream.

He didn’t let go.

Instead, he yanked the attacker forward, slamming his knee into the man’s stomach before throwing him aside like a ragdoll.

Blood splattered. Bodies hit the ground.

The remaining attackers hesitated now.

Rhydian tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "What’s wrong?" he asked, voice deceptively soft. "Not so confident anymore?"

One of them turned, about to flee—

Rhydian was faster.

He closed the distance in the blink of an eye, grabbing the man by the back of his cloak and yanking him back before driving his fist into his gut.

The attacker crumpled instantly, groaning in pain.

Rhydian let him drop, his gaze sweeping over the last few who remained standing.

Then, he did something that made Seraphina’s breath catch.

He grinned.

But it wasn’t the usual cocky smirk he wore when teasing her.

It was something else entirely.

Something feral.

The kind of grin that sent a cold chill down the spine of anyone who saw it.

"Run," he suggested, voice dripping with amusement. "If you can."

They ran.

Not all of them. Some were too injured to even move. But the ones who could? They bolted into the trees, vanishing into the night like frightened animals.

Rhydian exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if he had just finished stretching.

Then—finally—he turned back to her.

Seraphina was still frozen in place, her heart pounding against her ribs.

His sharp gaze met hers, scanning her face. "Are you hurt?"

She barely processed the question.

Because for the first time in her life, she was speechless.

She had known he was dangerous.

But now?

Now, she truly understood.

Rhydian wasn’t just dangerous.

He was terrifying.

She soon snapped out of it and nodded slowly, forcing herself to breathe. But just as the tension in her chest began to ease, a sudden realization struck her—Irene.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She spun around, her eyes frantically scanning the bloodstained ground, the overturned carriage, the scattered bodies.

But Irene—her carriage—

Gone.

The air felt colder. A sinking dread curled in her stomach, tightening like a vice.

"Irene," she whispered, taking a shaky step forward. "Where is she?"

No answer. Only the rustling of leaves, the distant echo of retreating footsteps.

She turned to Rhydian, but he was already looking past her, his expression dark, unreadable. His gaze flicked toward the road, his jaw tightening.

Something wasn’t right.

Seraphina felt it in her bones—the uneasy silence, the lingering scent of blood mixed with something else.

Something wrong.

A shadow of a thought crept into her mind, one she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Had they taken her?

Before she could voice it, a sudden gust of wind swept through the trees, carrying with it a faint, chilling sound.

A scream.

Distant. Weak.

And unmistakably Irene’s.

Seraphina’s blood ran cold.