Claimed by the Prince of Darkness-Chapter 21: Riding with Elites

The sun had barely dipped below the horizon when Ruelle found herself standing in the middle of the forest, staring at the broken wheel of the carriage. The fading light cast long shadows across the dense trees, beginning to make the forest seem even more eerie.

The local coachman scratched his head nervously as he examined the damage. "Sorry, miss," he muttered, his voice laced with apprehension. "But it seems like I can’t take you any further," he said, while his eyes darted towards the thickening woods.

Suddenly a wolf’s howl pierced through the silent forest, sending a shiver down both their spines. Without warning, the coachman bolted in the direction they had come from, abandoning both the carriage and Ruelle without so much as a backward glance. She could only watch in disbelief as the man disappeared among the trees, leaving her stranded.

"He... left," Ruelle whispered to herself.

Ruelle had planned to escape to Sexton before the night deepened, desperate to avoid any confrontation with Ezekiel or her mother. The thought of him questioning her again, sent a wave of unease through her. But none of the carriages in the village had been willing to travel to the vampire territories at this hour. Fear held the human coachmen at bay, unwilling to set foot in this side of the woods after sunset.

Now she was left alone, with only the growing chill of the evening and the silence of the domineering forest for company.

Frustration simmered beneath her skin, her hands clenching into fists. The longer she stayed, the more vulnerable she would become. She couldn’t just stand here, waiting for something—or someone—worse to find her.

Searching for a shortcut, Ruelle began to walk, barely two minutes passing before the sound of hooves echoed through the trees. The rhythmic clatter grew louder, and a sleek black carriage emerged from the shadows, its polished wood glistening faintly in the dim light of dusk.

"An Elite’s carriage..." Ruelle murmured. The carriage slowed as it approached, drawing closer to where she stood on the edge of the path.

The window slid to the side smoothly, revealing a familiar face framed by dirty blond hair and a grin. It was Sawyer, who said, "If it isn’t the lovely Miss Belmont, stranded in the middle of nowhere. Need a ride?"

Ruelle hesitated, but she had little choice. She replied with a small smile, "I do... if it isn’t much trouble." Her options were limited, and staying alone in the forest wasn’t one of them.

Sawyer’s grin widened, and he called to the coachman, "Edmond, be a dear and pick up Miss Belmont’s luggage, won’t you?"

But the coachman, a pale vampire with a sullen expression, barely moved at first. Sawyer turned and muttered something that she couldn’t quite catch. The coachman then climbed down from his seat to retrieve Ruelle’s belongings, tying them securely to the back of the carriage.

"Hop in!" Sawyer’s voice was cheerful as always, waving her towards the open door.

Ruelle gathered her skirts and climbed into the carriage. The plush velvet seats and the warmth of the interior were a welcome contrast to the biting cold outside, but as she took her seat, her eyes fell on the other passengers.

To her left sat the vampiress—with dirty blonde hair cascading over her shoulders—the person who had dragged the chained human student through the halls of Sexton.

But it was the dark-haired passenger sitting diagonally from her that made her heart stutter. Lucian, her mind whispered.

His dark red eyes were fixed on the passing trees outside the window, his expression unreadable. His demeanour was cold and distant, as though the world around him—including her—was beneath his notice.

Ruelle felt compelled to retrace her footsteps and leave the carriage, but there was no room for pride here. She couldn’t risk being alone in the forest, not with wolves howling through the woods. Swallowing the awkwardness she felt, she carefully settled into the empty seat. The carriage rattled softly as it began to move again.

Sawyer leaned forward with his curiosity and asked her, "What were you doing out here, all alone?"

Ruelle opened her mouth to answer, but the vampiress beside her cut in with a dry, sarcastic tone,

"Surely she wasn’t hunting for vampires. Else she would be carrying stakes." The young woman’s eyes held a dull amusement as they set on Ruelle, who tried hard not to shift in her seat under her gaze.

Sawyer waved off the young woman’s comment and remarked, "Don’t mind my sister. She’s got a terrible sense of humour, but she’s harmless. Mostly." Noticing the surprise on Ruelle’s face, he said, "Angelina is my twin sister."

Ruelle was surprised; she would have never guessed they were related. Compared to Sawyer’s playful demeanour, Angelina had a far more serious air around her.

Sawyer persisted, his curiosity unrelenting. "So, what happened? How’d you end up out here?"

"The carriage I took broke down," Ruelle replied politely.

"A lot of carriages tend to keep breaking down here, with the tree roots poking through," Sawyer mused thoughtfully, before his eyes flickered to the little satchel she carried in her hand. Noticing something colourful poking out of it, he asked, "What is that?"

"It is just a scarf I mean to sell," Ruelle replied softly, as she tried to quickly tuck it back inside the satchel.

"To access the library?" Angelina questioned from the side, and Ruelle nodded.

"How interesting! I doubt anyone else has thought of knitting to gain access." Sawyer appeared delighted by the thought. "Well, good for you!"

Ruelle offered a faint smile, and kept to herself the rest of the ride, mostly listening to Sawyer talk , while the vampiress replied only when needed. Lucian on the other hand was like a ghost, staring out the window unbothered. When they arrived at Sexton, the carriage rolled to a stop.

As she stepped down from the carriage and her trunk was being unloaded, she turned to Sawyer, her voice soft but sincere, "Thank you for the ride."

Sawyer chuckled in response. He said, "You don’t need to thank me, because this isn’t my carriage." Ruelle’s curiosity flickered as Sawyer turned his head, and her gaze landed on Lucian, who had walked a few steps ahead. "It belongs to him."