Brute 183

Chapter 183 

 

For a moment, Yara could not move. 

“You-You-“ 

 

The study that should have been the Lord’s quiet sanctuary now looked like a slaughter pen. Six men…six of her best… now lay broken and spilling blood across the rugs and Cassian’s precious desk. Their bodies were twisted, throats torn, bones shattered, skulls cracked against wood. And at the center of it all stood the consort, small and thin, breathing hard, her face and hands drenched in red. 

Then Atasha turned her head. 

Their gazes met. 

The last trace of Yara’s smirk died in her throat. 

Those were not the eyes of the sick, swaying girl who had leaned on her attendant in the square. They weren’t even the eyes of a frightened woman. They were dark and bright at the same time, sharpened by something wild, something entirely wrong. Yara felt it like a hand closing around her spine. 

This was not the same Atasha she had studied, tested, and tried to expose. 

This was something else wearing her face. 

Yara stepped back without meaning to and collided with the chest of the guard behind her. The man flinched, fingers tightening on his spear. She could feel the tremor in his grip. 

Use her, a part of Yara’s mind whispered. A weapon like this could turn the tide against the King, against 

anyone. 

She crushed the thought as soon as it came. 

No. A creature that butchered six trained werewolves with bare hands was not something she would ever trust at her back. She was ambitious, not suicidal. 

“Kill her,” Yara snapped, the words ripping out sharper than she intended. She turned to the hooded man at her side, the one still clutching the glowing stone. “Do you hear me? Kill her. Kill her for me!” 

The man jerked as if waking from a trance. He lifted his hand, raising the stone between himself and Atasha. Its light, which had burned steady over Lucas and Grace, began to pulse faster. 

Yet, it wasn’t able to stop Atasha from moving. The Matron watched in horror as Atasha took a step forward. 

Her foot sank slightly into the soaked rug, leaving a dark print behind. She did not look at the stone. She looked at Yara. And then, almost lazily, her mouth curled into a smile. 

The hooded man’s breathing quickened under the cloth. He extended his other hand toward her, fingers 

 

spread, as if pushing against invisible resistance. 

Yara felt it immediately, that strange pressure, the same crushing weight that had pinned Lucas and Grace. It rolled through the room like a wave, pressing against skin and bone. Her cars rang. Her knees wobbled. One of the guards behind her grunted, shoulders bowing. 

Atasha did not stop walking. 

The stone flared brighter. Then suddenly, the hooded man hissed something under his breath, words from a language Yara didn’t know, and focused entirely on the consort. 

“Hold her!” Yara barked at the two remaining guards by the door. “What are you doing!? Hold her! Now!” 

They moved on instinct, surging forward with their spears leveled, aiming to keep distance between them and her. Atasha shifted her attention toward them, but she didn’t slow down. 

The hooded man drew in a sharp breath. “It’s not-” His voice cracked under the hood. “It’s not working. She isn’t-” 

“Do it again!” Yara snapped, refusing to accept what she was seeing. “You bound the others. Do it again!” 

“I am trying,” he bit out, the stone shaking slightly in his hand. “She should not be moving. This level of suppression should crush-” 

“She is not crushed,” Yara cut in, her voice rising. “So increase it!” 

And he did. 

Even Yara immediately knew that the pressure doubled. 

Yara’s lungs resisted the urge to panic as the weight pressed against her ribs. Veris had called it witchcraft, but this was more refined than any hedge spell. This was controlled binding, the kind she had only heard about in careful whispers. The stone’s light burned hot enough that Yara had to squint. 

Atasha’s steps grew slower… but not smaller. 

Her shoulders rolled once, as if shrugging off a physical hand. Her neck tilted to the side, tendons flexing, blood still dripping from her fingers. She walked through the binding field like it was a strong wind instead of a crushing force. 

“Impossible,” the hooded man whispered. 

And that was when one of the guards lunged. 

His spear thrust forward in a straight line, aimed at her midsection. Atasha caught the wooden shaft with one hand, her fingers digging in until the wood creaked. 

With a brutal yank, she pulled him toward her, letting his own momentum drag him off balance. Her knee drove up into his stomach, and the guard folded, the air leaving him in a choked grunt. She tore the spear from his loosening grip and swung it in a tight arc, the butt end cracking across the second guard’s jaw. He staggered sideways, teeth spraying red onto the already stained floor. 

10:06 Wed, Nov 19 

Chapter 183 

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The hooded man cursed under his breath. The stone flared again, bright as moonlight. Yara could feel the strain in the air, in her ears, in the rattling shelves. Lucas groaned where he knelt, his bindings pulling tighter. Grace coughed faintly, blood still dripping as her body curled more into the rug. 

“Soldiers!” Yara screamed, voice breaking as she turned toward the open doorway. “Inside, now! Kill her… kill the consort!” 

Boots pounded somewhere in the corridor in answer to her call, but Atasha was already moving again. 

“Atasha!” Yara shouted suddenly, forcing her tone to sharpen as fear slid under her annoyance. “Listen to me. If you stop now, I might consider-” 

Atasha didn’t even glance at her. 

She lifted the stolen spear and snapped it cleanly over her knee. The sharpened end splintered, falling in uneven pieces to the floor. She let the remains drop from her hands as if they were nothing but trash, then took another measured step toward Yara. 

The hooded man’s breath turned harsh. “She is resisting a full restraint,” he said, voice strained and disbelieving. “No wolf, no werewolf should be able to move through this.” 

“She is not a wolf,” Yara hissed back, eyes fixed on Atasha’s advancing form as she realized something. “She is not a werewolf!”