Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 220

Chapter 220: The Wrong Ruelle

Ruelle felt pain seep into her skin and her bones, like frost spreading across a windowpane. It made everything heavy and her limbs refused to move.

She felt like she was stuck in a nightmare while the world had turned muffled, as though she were submerged in deep water. People were still screaming in panic even though the ground had stopped shaking.

Her hands were still pressed uselessly to Lachlan’s head, where warm blood continued to coat her fingers. She could feel the heat leaving him, and yet she didn’t dare move her fingers to his throat. As if her very sanity would crumble if she found him dead too.

Meanwhile, Peyton finally managed to emerge from beneath the pile of people who had fallen over her. Her head whipped left and right as she searched frantically for Ruelle and the others.

And maybe the vampiress would have found them, if Ruelle and Lachlan hadn’t collapsed on the ground and people hadn’t covered them. Believing they weren’t near the harbour, she made her way away from where Ruelle was.

Back where Ruelle was, she saw Ezekiel, who looked exactly like her right now, extend his hand towards her, palm open, and say,

"Come, Ruelle." Ezekiel wore a smile and stated, "I have been waiting for you to come. But it’s alright, now that I have co—"

"You killed them. Dane—and Lachlan... they didn’t deserve this," Ruelle whispered, tears falling as she let go of Lachlan’s head. The grief that had frozen her began to melt beneath the rage taking over her.

Ezekiel let out a tired sigh. He stated, "We have the rest of our lives to argue, Ruelle. Though I’d rather we didn’t spend all of them doing it. Let’s go."

"I am not yours. I was never yours and I will never be," she said clearly as she placed her bloody hands on the ground. "You killed people I love and care for. You should bury yourself before you even think about me."

At her words, Ezekiel’s smile faltered. He stared at her as though she had spoken in a language he didn’t understand.

"I know you don’t mean that." His jaw tightened.

"I do."

Ezekiel’s smile finally died.

Something shifted behind his eyes and his face twisted into something colder. It was an expression the real Ruelle could never bring.

"You should have taken my hand while I was still offering it kindly," he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. And the next moment he lunged at her.

But Ruelle had anticipated this.

Suddenly, a dark, thorned vine ripped through the already broken ground and curled around his wrist. When Ezekiel raised his other hand, another vine wrapped around it, binding both his hands together. He tried to pull back, to tear himself free, but the vine only tightened, black thorns digging into his flesh until drops of blood streaked down the sleeve of his dress.

Some more came like serpents, curling around his ankles and moving in circles, so he tripped and fell on the ground. A pained grunt tore from his throat but he didn’t stop moving.

"You need to pay for your sins, Ezekiel." Ruelle scrambled away from him before she stood up.

Ezekiel laughed even though he was bleeding. He stared at her and said, "This is all your fault, Ruelle. But you don’t see me blaming you, do you?"

Could he hear what he was saying right now? Ruelle stared at him in disbelief. "Every choice you made, you did it on your own. Not me."

But he only shook his head. Instead of continuing it, he said, "Take these off of me, Ruelle. We can speak without it."

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