Chapter 446
The sun had gone down beyond the lush trees when Marro finally dared to move. He had remained tucked under the hollow for hours, frozen in fear and desperation. His small body ached, muscles cramped from stillness, but worse was the heavy silence pressing against his ears, the kind that told him something had gone horribly wrong.
No more voices. No more footsteps. No more searching.
Just… silence.
Slowly, cautiously, he emerged, brushing off dried leaves and dirt. His palms were scraped, and the wrist band he had fought so hard to protect now felt cold and heavy in his pocket. His legs shook as he stood.
He needed to see his almost dead friend but then he needed to go home.
He needed to see them.
Maybe they were hiding too. Maybe they were waiting for him.
The path back to the pack’s village was deserted.
Not a single howl echoed in the night air. Only the rustling of wind in the trees and the far-off caw of a bird.
He stuck to the shadows, moving low and silent, just like his father had taught him during those nighttime hunts.
As he crept closer to the outskirts of the village, the air turned strange.
Thick. Smoky.
His nose twitched with the scent of blood.
But there were no guards. No patrols. No torches.
That’s what made it worse.
He darted behind the last house, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. Then, finally, his eyes found their home—the crooked roof, the broken fence his mother always begged his father to fix, the single lantern still flickering in the front window.
But it felt wrong.
Too quiet. Too still.
He approached slowly, eyes scanning everything. The front yard looked untouched. No blood, no mess, no sign of struggle.
And then he saw him.
His father’s body lay sprawled at the front door, a dried pool of red staining the earth around him.
His head was tilted unnaturally, eyes glassy and open, lips parted as though still trying to speak.
Marro stopped breathing.
His knees buckled and he staggered forward, lips trembling. “P–Papa?”
No answer.
“Papa
He dropped beside him, grabbing his arm with shaking hands. It was cold.
Gone.
Marro’s breath came in shallow gasps. Tears blurred his vision as he clutched the stiff, unmoving hand, sobbing now. “Papa, no… no, please
He cried until the stars appeared above.
Then something broke inside him.
Mama.
Fabian.
He scrambled up and pushed through the open front door, yelling, “Mama? Fabian?!” His voice cracked, raw and high. “It’s me! I’m home!”
No answer.
He tore through the house like a storm, throwing open doors, looking under beds, behind furniture.
Nothing.
No signs of life. No warmth.
“Mama!!” he screamed again, frantic, tears falling unchecked. “Fabian?!”
The silence screamed louder.
Then he turned to the back door. It was barely closed, a smear of blood along the handle.
His hands shook as he reached for it, and the moment it creaked open, he stumbled back with a choked cry.
His mother lay in the grass behind the house, her body bent forward like she had been trying to crawl away. Her hair was soaked with blood. Her arms limp.
Beside her, Fabian.
His big brother.
Slumped over. Eyes closed.
Marro collapsed onto his knees and crawled to her, sobbing as he threw himself into her arms. “Mama, wake up… please wake up… I’m sorry… I should’ve come sooner—”
She didn’t move.
Her skin was pale. Her body already cooling.
He clung to her, howling, the sound piercing the stillness of the night.
“Please
He didn’t know how long he wept, minutes, hours, forever, but then he felt it.
Someone was coming.
He lifted his head, sniffling, ears sharp like his father’s had been. He was ready to run, ready to fight, but then…
“Marro?” came a soft voice.
He turned and saw her. A woman, cloaked and breathless, stood at the back gate. Her eyes locked with his, and her hand flew to her mouth in horror as she spotted the bodies.
“Aunt Lydia he whispered.
She rushed to him.
“Oh gods,” she breathed, kneeling beside him. “Marro, sweet boy
He threw himself into her arms, sobbing again, his voice raw and broken. “They killed them… they killed them all
She held him tightly. “I’m so sorry, love. I’m so sorry
Her hands trembled as she rocked him. “We need to go. We can’t stay here.”
He clung to her, too broken to speak.
Lydia took him to her small cottage, nestled just beyond the riverbank on the edge of the woods.
Her husband, Delek, barely said a word when they arrived, only nodded and stepped aside.
She fed Marro warm broth with bits of bread, whispering gentle things and stroking his hair until he drifted off into a restless sleep on a cot in her guest room.
The night crept forward.
But Marro was not as asleep as he seemed.
He stirred as voices drifted through the wall.
“I told the guards,” Delek said, his voice gruff and hushed.
“What?” Lydia gasped.
“You said we needed coin! We needed safety. The bounty on that brat’s head is worth a fortune.”
“You told them? After what happened to her? Delek, they slaughtered my sister
“And? Why are you crying over that stupid girl and her pathetic mate? They were nothing. They never had anything. Now we finally do.”
Lydia’s voice broke. “I just… I didn’t think it would go this far.”
Delek scoffed. “Don’t get soft. You should be thanking me. You always said your sister thought she was better than you. Well now she’s dead and we’re rich.”
A pause.
“I need to check on the boy,” Lydia said suddenly.
“No,” Delek said. “Let him sleep.”
“I just want to make sure he’s okay
“Fine. But don’t wake him.”
She opened the door to the guest room slowly.
But the bed was empty.
The blanket thrown aside.
Curtain fluttering.
Gone.
⸻
Marro ran through the dark woods with bare feet and tear-streaked cheeks. The ache in his chest pulsed with every step, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
Not now.
Not after hearing that.
His aunt—his mother’s sister—had betrayed them. Let them die.
He stumbled but caught himself, breath ragged.
They had sold him for gold.
His entire family was gone, and it was because of him.
Because of a stupid wrist band.
He didn’t know where he was running. He didn’t care.
All he knew was that he couldn’t trust anyone anymore.
And he would never stop running.
Not until he found the truth.
Not until someone paid.