Run! The Lost Princess of the Black Wolves

Chapter 36 - Chambers of darkness

Slowly, Iron inserted the key into the keyhole. He turned the key and with a satisfying creak, the door swung open, revealing a room that sent a shiver down Chloe’s spine. The room was overflowing with paintings of all sizes, adorning the walls and standing on easels.

The artworks were terrifying, depicting horrifying scenes of monstrous beasts locked in savage battles, their jaws dripping with blood, their battered bodies a testament to their brutality. Chloe's eyes widened in disbelief as she took in the macabre gallery, every piece vibrating with violence and brutality.

But what shocked her the most was that each painting bore the same signature: Aurum. "My mother created these?" she gasped, her voice filled with a mix of awe and confusion. She had never imagined her mother possessing such a ferocious and bloody imagination. Why would she paint such dark and violent pieces?

Iron's voice broke the silence, as if he could read Chloe's thoughts. "From what I've heard, she used to retreat to this room for hours, using art as a means to process her emotions," he mused. "These paintings are not bad at all. They are incredibly intricate and realistic. She was really talented! Do you have stuff like this decorating the walls of your home?" He studied a drawing of a wolf staring directly at the viewer, its bloody jaws deeply buried into the neck of a fawn.

"No, never...” Chloe whispered in awe. “She has never painted anything at home."

"No?" Iron looked at her, his eyes filled with surprise. "What a shame."

"Uhum..." She hummed softly as she strolled amidst the paintings, stopping before one that remained unfinished on an easel. It depicted a young woman with flowing blond hair, walking away from the viewer, alone in a desolate desert. Her footprints left in the sand were vanishing, carried away by the wind as she forged ahead.

The painting resonated with Chloe, touching her deeply. There was something about this painting that conveyed a profound sense of loneliness and sadness, but also unyielding determination. The girl was leaving, disappearing without a trace, and her strong posture spoke for itself… She would not return.

"I've always wondered why she chose to abandon everything and settle with the enemy," Iron pondered aloud. "But I guess this painting holds the answers, doesn’t it?"

"It does," Chloe nodded slowly. "And yet, it doesn't. Do you know what really happened?"

"You truly don't know about your mother's past?" he scrutinized her, his gaze searching for answers.

Chloe shook her head. "No... She never speaks of it. And I must admit, I haven't really asked either. Now, looking at all this, I deeply regret not asking her."

"Your mother was destined to be a warrior and a leader," Iron explained, his voice tinged with admiration. "She was raised that way. Being younger than my father and older than Argen, she was seen as a potential mate for my father, ruling the north with him. And as if the Goddess answered their parents' prayers, she and Cato did become fated mates. However, she had been sent as an undercover spy to the South, posing as a student. When she returned during the war, she rejected him outright! It was a shock to everyone, my father included. And then she vanished... only to betray the Northern Alliance, telling all our secrets to the Western Tribe and Eastern Union, weakening us to the point where we finally had to accept a truce."

Chloe struggled to absorb this newfound information. So that was why Rebecca was labeled a traitor... She had left behind her family and everything she knew. Were her parents even truly fated mates, or was it all just a façade? She was starting to wonder.

"What about your father?" she plucked with her fingers among a few old brushes, idly tracing the dried paint. “Did he meet his second chance mate?”

“No,” Iron smiled wryly. "My mother used to be his… we can call it mistress. But when your mother rejected him, my mother was already pregnant... with me. So, he took the easy way out and chose my mother as his mate."

Chloe's mind raced with thoughts. Did Iron's mother have a say in all this? Something told her she probably didn't.

“Your mother is a legend you know…” Iron stepped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her as she was still observing the painting on the easel. "Very few could match her in combat, even from a young age. She may have been small, but she possessed remarkable speed and skill. Hours upon hours of training, starting from her childhood. Just like my father. Come, let me show you."

He took her hand, leading her out of the room and into the adjacent corridor. Unlocking another door, he revealed a space filled with training equipment - dumbbells, weights, monkey bars, a treadmill… But more interestingly, most of the room featured an array of heavy weaponry, including crossbows and swords. There stood a few training dummies, their forms punctured by knives and axes, while boxing sacks swung from the ceiling.

Chloe dropped her jaw, taking it all in. Suddenly, she noticed a massive werewolf lurking menacingly in a corner, making her gasp in surprise. Instinctively, she assumed a defensive stance, ready to protect herself.

"Relax!" Iron laughed, dispelling the tension. "It's just a mannequin."

He was right. It was a massive werewolf mannequin that hung from the ceiling, bearing numerous claw marks and bite wounds - remnants of previous training sessions.

She observed the figure quietly before scanning the rest of the room. Her gaze fell upon a blackboard, its surface marked with chalked words: "Kills" and "misses," with multiple lines etched beneath "Kills."

"Those were real kills, or so I’ve been told," Iron remarked, nodding toward the blackboard. The number of lines under "Kills" was disturbingly higher compared to "misses."

"Your mother was a kick-ass warrior," he stated with admiration. "Did she teach you how to fight?"

“Me?” Chloe arched her brows. “No, my brother did. He's always been the one to teach the rest of us. But now that I think about it, I do recall seeing my mother and father sparring in the fighting pit when I was young," she mused, memories resurfacing. Her mother's skill had left a lasting impression on her, although at the time, she had wondered if her father had been letting her win. Now, knowing what she knew now, she realized he probably hadn't.

“I never met your brother,” he nodded slowly. “But I heard he’s good.”

Curiosity sparked within her as she examined the weaponry displayed on the walls. Her gaze landed on a crossbow, ancient and heavy, designed for someone much larger than her mother. It looked quite outdated, much more traditional than her parents' more modern creations back at the River Valley pack.

"Why would she have something like this here?" she wondered aloud, retrieving the crossbow. Its weight was formidable, and she struggled to hold it steadily.

"I suppose she would stand here," Iron said, pulling aside a thick velvet curtain that concealed a French balcony. He swung open the doors, revealing the pack's training grounds beyond. "Look, there's the pack's training arena."

Chloe observed the small arena, her eyes scanning the surrounding trees. Suddenly, a surge of excitement coursed through her veins. Without a second thought, she loaded a bolt into the crossbow, pulled back the string, and released it. The arrow soared through the air, finding its mark in one of the distant trees.

“Not bad!” Iron let out an impressed whistle.

"If only I had been as good at aiming at my fated mate, everything would be different," she murmured, setting the crossbow aside.

Slowly, she walked around the room, her fingers caressing the weapons adorning the space one by one. As she lifted a massive sword down from the wall, she felt a rush of excitement course through her as she caressed the sharp blade.

This room was thrilling! The sentiment of danger and power permeated the space, and Chloe was surprised to find herself aroused by it all. Goddess, what was wrong with her?

“You’re a werewolf, remember?” her wolf scoffed within. “What do you think would turn you on, flowers and vanilla ice cream?”

Picking up a morning star with its chain, she swung it experimentally. The weapon was heavy and quite challenging to control, but after just a few swings, she found her rhythm and began twirling it in bold circles around her, a confident grin spreading across her face.

"Be careful with that," Iron chuckled, narrowly avoiding being struck by the spikes.

"You must behave," she teased, giving him a mischievous look. "Or I might have to use this on you."

"Oh, really?" He let out a playful growl, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "And where would you put it?"

"Where would you like to have it?" She quirked up a brow, her voice dripping with suggestion. She stopped swinging the weapon and ran her hand along the morning star's handle, fully aware that her behavior was far from appropriate… Yet, there was something about this armory and Iron's commanding presence that brought out her daring side.

“Anywhere, as long it’s from you,” he took a step closer, hovering over her.

As he leaned in, she was certain he was about to kiss her. However, he didn’t. Instead, he deftly took the morning star from her hand, setting it aside before placing his hand on the small of her back.

"Come," he said, a wolfish smile playing on his lips. "There's another room I'm eager to explore, and I think you'll enjoy it too."

They left the training room behind and crossed the hallway to a door that Iron unlocked with yet another key. "Are you ready?" he asked, his eyes gleaming in the dark.

"Bring it," Chloe wiggled her brows. “This room can hardly be more surprising than the other two rooms, right?“