CHAPTER 460: ESCAPE

The stone beneath Xaden’s back had long gone from cold to numb. Pain wasn’t sharp anymore.

it pulsed like a dull drumbeat in the marrow of his bones. Each breath scraped his lungs, his body on the verge of surrender. He knew he didn’t have much time left.

Days. Maybe hours.

His ribs were cracked, his lips split and bleeding. Hunger gnawed at his insides like a beast with teeth. He had faded into something thin and almost ghost-like, but not gone. Not yet.

Not until he tried.

Tonight, something was different. He had known it the moment the guards changed shifts earlier than usual.

One had grumbled about the Alpha being summoned for some urgent meeting beyond the eastern watch. Fewer patrols. Fewer eyes.

He wasn’t strong. But strength wasn’t what kept him alive.

It was something else.

A thread pulled taut beneath his chest. Something invisible. Familiar. Real.

Zayden opened his eyes to blackness. The air was thick with mildew and iron, the scent of dried blood crusted into the stones. He pushed himself upright slowly, biting down on a groan that clawed its way up his throat.

He reached toward the wall where he’d hidden it—a rusted shard of iron from the broken bench they’d once chained him to. The metal bit into his palm as he gripped it, his knuckles whitening.

One breath.

Two.

He dragged himself to the cell door and jammed the shard into the lock, trembling hands slick with sweat. It wasn’t finesse—it was desperation.

Click.

The door creaked open. Every sound echoed down the corridor like a shout. But no guards came.

He stepped into the hall, hugging the shadows, each step agony. He limped through the dungeons like a ghost, pressing against the stone to avoid the orange glow of torches. He ducked behind broken barrels, darted through arches like a whisper.

He passed rooms with chains. Places where others had screamed. And then...

That feeling again.

It slammed into his chest like a jolt of heat. He stopped mid-step, gasping for air.

It wasn’t just a pull—it was Jasmine.

A flicker of warmth. The memory of her scent. Her voice in the corner of his mind, whispering his name.

He clutched his chest.

No. No, it couldn’t be. Jasmine was safe. Far away. She was back home. The pack would have hidden her by now. Protected her. This place—this hell—she could never be here.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

This was a hallucination. His dying mind teasing him with comfort it could no longer provide.

And yet...

He couldn’t stop the tears that welled in his lashes.

"Keep moving," he hissed.

Up two flights of stone steps. His legs shook, but adrenaline powered him forward. Every breath burned, but freedom—freedom was close.

He reached the east courtyard gate. It was unlocked. Left open.

Someone had been careless.

He limped through, and for the first time in weeks—fresh, biting air hit his face. Trees rustled in the distance. The howl of a wolf echoed far off, and Zayden felt the sting of it in his bones.

But something made him stop.

A whisper of movement. A glimmer of light from the tower above.

He looked up.

And saw her.

A silhouette in the window. A woman with her hands pressed to the glass, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. The moonlight caught her face for just a second.

It was her. It was—

"Jasmine?" he whispered, stunned.

His heart lurched painfully in his chest. For one glorious, horrible moment, he believed it.

She was here.

She had come.

But then...

Reality clawed back. He blinked, and the image wavered.

No. He was delirious. Dying men saw what they loved most.

That wasn’t her.

It couldn’t be.

He forced himself to turn, even as every fiber of his being screamed not to. He turned and ran, limping into the woods, into the dark.

Into the unknown.

He didn’t look back again.

⸻

Far above, behind the thick, barred glass of her bedroom window, Jasmine stood frozen in the dark.

She had felt it before she’d seen anything.

A sharp kick. Then another. Her baby squirmed violently inside her, unlike anything she had felt before—urgent, panicked.

She pressed a hand to her stomach. "What’s wrong, baby?"

Then came the pull. That unmistakable, invisible thread yanking at her chest. Her breath hitched. Her skin prickled.

Xaden.

She stumbled toward the window, heart pounding wildly. The room around her blurred.

She yanked the heavy curtains open.

The courtyard was drenched in moonlight. Still. Silent.

But then—movement.

A man limping across the open ground. Bloody, broken... familiar.

Her knees buckled.

"Xaden..." she whispered, her voice caught in her throat.

He stopped, just for a moment, turning his face toward her.

And there he was.

Pale, drawn... but it was him. It was him. Her heart shattered all over again.

She pressed both palms to the glass.

"Xaden!"

But her voice didn’t carry. The glass was too thick. Her voice, too hoarse.

His eyes found her window—just briefly. But he didn’t move. Didn’t react.

His gaze was distant. Disbelieving. And then... he turned away.

"No..." she breathed. "Please... look at me. Just look..."

She slammed her hands against the windowpane, tears spilling down her cheeks.

He was walking away.

"Xaden!"

She didn’t care who heard her anymore. Let them drag her back to the bed. Let them punish her. She screamed until her throat burned.

But he was already gone.

Gone into the trees.

Gone like he had never been there.

Her knees gave out. She crumpled to the floor beneath the window, her body wracked with sobs. Her baby kicked again, and she curled protectively around her belly, as if that would protect the child from the grief radiating from her like a storm.

He was here.

He had been here.

And now he was gone.

She stayed there, whispering his name like a prayer into the silence of her gilded cage, the moon the only witness to her heartbreak.

And then Jasmine woke up with a jolt and looked around her surroundings.

There was no Xaden.

It had just been a dream.

She felt her bones weak and then she stepped out of her bed.

She walked to the large windows facing the forest and gently clutched her stomach.

And then she saw a figure headed towards the forest.

She rubbed her eyes.

But there was no one.

She was just imagining.

Jasmine had no idea Xaden had escaped.