CHAPTER 115: SNOW ON BLOOD

The guards stood watching in confusion.

Ivan was in the middle of them, crying.

The devil was crying.

No one moved. No one spoke.

The snowflakes landed softly on his dark hair and shoulders, but he didn’t seem to feel anything.

He looked like a statue carved from grief. His back was hunched, his breath heavy and raw. The soft crunch of snow under his knees was the only sound in the dead silence.

Time felt frozen, like even the wind held its breath.

His coat hung open, letting the cold bite through the layers. But he didn’t even flinch. His lips were slightly parted, his chest heaving up and down like a man drowning in air. Something inside him had broken. Everyone could see it, but no one knew what to do.

Some of the guards exchanged nervous glances. They had never seen him like this. Ivan, the cruel one, the storm in human form... crying like a broken man. His shoulders shook once. Then again. It wasn’t loud. But it was real. Painfully real.

One guard instinctively took a step forward—then stopped. There was something sacred about the moment, like they were witnessing something they were not meant to see. A man bleeding from the soul, and there was no bandage that could help.

It scared them more than any roar ever had.

They had feared his anger. His commands. His punishments. But this... this was something else. This was the soundless scream of a man who had lost everything. It hung heavy in the air, thick like smoke. Something about it made the skin crawl. Because monsters didn’t cry. And if this one did, what horror could make that happen?

Ivan slowly got to his feet.

His hands curled tightly into fists.

His eyes were red, but the tears had stopped.

He wiped his face and said in a cold, low voice,

"Let’s head back to the palace."

His voice didn’t match his face. It was cold, but his expression was hollow. Empty. As if something inside him had cracked wide open and nothing was left but darkness.

No one dared question him.

The wind howled softly through the trees, but he didn’t hear it. Snow clung to his lashes like ash. His chest rose and fell with stiff, choked rhythm.

Nikolai looked at him, confused. He wanted to say something. Ask if they should expand the search. Maybe check the mountains or the nearby village.

But he didn’t ask.

He saw something in Ivan’s face that stopped him.

Ivan had a reason.

So Nikolai just nodded and signaled the guards to follow.

There was a tightness in Nikolai’s chest. A knot he couldn’t explain. He had seen Ivan angry. Furious. He had seen him cruel. But never like this. This wasn’t just worry. This was fear. Raw, soul-deep fear.

And it shook him. Because if Ivan was scared, then they all should be.

Ivan mounted his horse. He rode fast. Like a man possessed.

The wind and snow slapped against his face, but he didn’t stop.

The others had a hard time keeping up with him.

His knuckles were white around the reins. His jaw was clenched so tight it ached. But he didn’t care. His mind screamed with images—Lydia crying out, Lydia in pain, Lydia taken. Every second was a stab in the gut. He should have protected her. He should have known.

He could hear her voice in his head. Her laughter. Her quiet sighs. Her footsteps down the halls. And now—silence. Just silence.

That silence was the worst part. It echoed inside him like an empty chapel after a funeral. Every sound that used to bring comfort—gone. He would have given anything to hear her nagging him again. Even just one small complaint. Anything. But the silence mocked him.

When Ivan entered the palace, the first person he saw was Olga.

She stood tall, wrapped in a silk robe, her hair damp from a recent bath. Her tone was harsh and cold.

"Do you think the Ember Lights Ball is some joke? Where were you and your wife last nig—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Ivan walked past her.

Like she wasn’t even there.

Like she was nothing.

Her mouth hung open in disbelief. Her voice raised.

"What an animal."

There was venom in her tone, but beneath it was confusion. She didn’t understand the storm that had just passed her.

Tatiana spotted Ivan rushing up the stairs.

"Your Highness!" she called, but he didn’t stop.

He was gone before she could reach him.

Olga turned to her, scoffing.

"Did you see that?"

Tatiana clenched her fist. She wanted to say something. To defend him. But she stayed quiet.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Nikolai entered, slightly out of breath.

Tatiana rushed to him.

"Did you find her?"

He shook his head.

"No."

Olga stared, confused.

Vladimir, who had just entered with Boris, turned at Nikolai’s words.

"Find who?" Olga asked. "What is going on?"

Nikolai answered,

"Her Highness. She is missing. She was abducted last night."

Alexander stepped in just in time to hear it.

His body froze.

His heart dropped.

His worst fear had come true.

His lips parted, but no words came out. His hands trembled by his sides.

The room fell into thick, unbearable silence.

Meanwhile, Ivan headed straight to the dungeons.

His mind was working fast. Lydia had to be alive.

Ruslan wouldn’t go through so much just to kill her.

No. This wasn’t about her. It was about him. Ivan.

Lydia was bait.

And there was one man who could know where Ruslan was.

One man who had served under him.

One man who had called him brother.

Anatoly.

Ivan stormed through the dungeon. The guard on duty stood and bowed.

Ivan said nothing.

He went straight to Anatoly’s cell.

Opened the door.

Stepped in.

"Where is he?" Ivan’s voice was sharp, cold.

Anatoly blinked.

"Who?"

"Ruslan," Ivan said again. "Where is he?"

Anatoly looked confused.

"General Zaitsev? I thought you said he was dead."

Ivan snapped. He grabbed Anatoly by the collar, lifted him slightly off the floor.

The chains on Anatoly’s wrists clanked, his feet kicking against the cold stone floor.

"He’s alive. And he has Lydia. Now tell me where he is."

Anatoly stammered,

"I don’t know. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you."

Nikolai walked in at that moment.

Ivan shoved Anatoly back to the ground and paced the cell.

His chest rising and falling with rage.

His breath came in harsh, uneven gasps. He was losing control.

Anatoly laughed to himself.

"So he has the Grand Duchess. That explains your panic."

Nikolai moved to Ivan.

"Your Highness, let’s go. You won’t get anything from him."

Anatoly continued, pushing the knife deeper.

"She’s probably already dead."

Ivan pulled out his sword.

The sound of steel filled the cell. It was quiet, terrifyingly quiet.

Nikolai tried to stop him.

"He’s not worth it."

But Anatoly didn’t stop. He smirked.

"Although... if I were him, I wouldn’t kill her just yet.

The Grand Duchess is a very beautiful woman. I would have had her first."

That was it.

Ivan plunged the sword straight into Anatoly’s chest.

There was no hesitation. Just cold fury. Just pain that had nowhere else to go.

He turned and walked out.

Nikolai stayed back and ordered the guards to get rid of the body.

Ivan was trembling.

His mind was on fire.

A hundred thoughts, none clear.

Pain.

Fear.

Anger.

It was all too much. He felt like he was drowning in it.

Nikolai caught up to him.

He spoke gently.

"I don’t think she’s dead yet, Your Highness. He wants something. He will send a message."

Ivan knew he was right.

But it didn’t help the panic.

Just then, a guard ran in.

"A message. A bird arrived."

Ivan grabbed the note.

His hands shook as he read it.

If you want to save her, meet me at nightfall. Come alone.

Below it was the name of a village: Mirograd.

A small forest town just outside Svetlana.

Ivan didn’t waste a second.

He grabbed his coat and sword.

Nikolai stepped in front of him.

"It’s a trap."

"I know."

"Then what do you want to do? Run into it?"

"Yes. Because she’s in it."

Nikolai stared at him, speechless. His voice cracked, but he said nothing else. He knew there was no stopping him.

The hours passed slowly. But finally, night fell.

Ivan arrived in Mirograd.

The snow was falling hard now.

The wind cut through his clothes.

But he didn’t feel it.

His face was pale, jaw locked. His eyes searched every shadow, every tree. He was shaking, not from the cold, but from fear.

He rode until he saw a clearing.

Trees all around.

Silence.

Just snow and shadows.

Then he saw her.

Lydia.

She was running toward him.

Covered in blood.

Her white dress ripped and stained.

Her hair was a mess.

Her hands shaking.

He jumped off the horse and ran to her.

"Lydia!"

Her lips trembled.

Her eyes widened.

"Ivan," she cried. But just before she reached him—

TO BE CONTINUED....