The Villains Must Win-Chapter 160: Lyander Wolfhart 10

Liora wasn’t allowed to leave the guest house.

The instructions had been clear. She was to remain inside at all times. Meals were brought to her three times a day by different servants—none of whom stayed longer than necessary.

They never spoke beyond a few clipped words, and their eyes always flicked toward the corners of the room, as if checking to see if she’d moved anything out of place.

Henry had told her it was for her own protection. That some in the pack weren’t ready to accept a human in their territory. That tensions were still high, and he didn’t want any accidents. He’d looked her dead in the eyes as he said it—steady, calm, and unreadable.

But Liora knew better.

This wasn’t protection. This was surveillance. A cage with a lock that didn’t need keys—just loyalty and fear. The door had no bolts, no chains, but the invisible boundary was felt all the same. The wolves didn’t need bars. Their presence was enough.

No manmade thing could cage them. Not iron gates. Not stone walls. Not locks or bolts. Only silver held any power—and even that, barely.

Each day stretched long and quiet. No windows opened fully. No paths led out into the woods unless escorted. No questions were answered. She was kept fed and warm, but she could feel the truth every time she touched the cold glass of her window and stared into the trees.

She was a prisoner.

And then, the breaking point came.

It had been three days without a proper bath. The guest house had a small washroom, but the pipes were barely functional, the water pressure a joke. Her clothes clung to her skin. Her hair had lost its shape. She felt sticky, uncomfortable, and worse—trapped in her own body.

She needed out. If only for a moment.

So she waited until the moon wasn’t that high and glowing and all the wolves were asleep, and the last meal had come and gone. The servant had left the tray as usual, offering nothing but a cold nod before vanishing.

Liora had learned their routines by now. She knew there was a short window before the next shift passed through the outer perimeter.

She hadn’t dared move before—turning into a spirit ball the moment footsteps echoed too close, afraid of being seen. But now, after days of quietly observing, she’d learned their routines. And with that knowledge came confidence.

The discomfort of her human skin was beginning to itch at her nerves. It was too tight, too false. She ached to shed it, to stretch back into her true form—but even that was a luxury she couldn’t afford. The shamans in the pack were too perceptive. One misstep, one flicker of the wrong kind of energy, and they’d know she wasn’t what she seemed.

Everything here was a restriction. Every breath had to be measured, every step calculated with precision. This was the B-rank world—a place where the difficulty spiked to an entirely new level, far beyond anything she had faced before. But she could endure it. She had to.

Because her goal had always been to make the villains win and win the game.

Liora moved fast.

Throwing on a dark cloak she’d found tucked into the back of a dusty wardrobe, she eased open the door. The night air hit her like a slap—cool, wild, free. Her heart hammered, but she didn’t hesitate.

Barefoot, she slipped down the side steps and into the trees, avoiding the main path and keeping to the underbrush. She could smell the wild in the air—pine and earth and something more primal.

She wasn’t sure if it was instinct or memory that guided her, but her feet knew where to go. She followed the sound of rushing water, growing louder with each careful step. Her skin prickled. Every crack of a branch behind her made her flinch. Every rustle made her wonder if glowing eyes would catch her in the dark. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

But no one stopped her.

The waterfall wasn’t large, but it was beautiful. Moonlight shimmered across the cascade, turning the surface of the pool below into rippling silver. Mist rose from the base in a soft veil, catching the light like a dream. For a moment, Liora forgot the danger. She forgot the pack. She forgot Rhett and Talia. She forgot Henry. She forgot Lyander.

She stripped quickly, desperate for the water, and waded in without hesitation. It was cold—biting and sharp—but it cleared her mind. She dunked her head beneath the fall, let the water crash over her, scrubbing at her skin, her scalp, her limbs until they burned from friction. She needed to be one with nature again. Alive. Herself.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there.

Long enough for her fingers to wrinkle. Long enough for her breath to come slower. Long enough to feel the weight ease from her chest. Long enough to feel like she was merging with the water and go back to nature to recharge.

It was so hard to be a nymph in this case.

Then, a sound.

A branch. Snapped.

She froze.

Water dripped from her hair as she straightened, eyes searching the trees. For a heartbeat, all was still—then she saw it. A pair of eyes, faintly aglow in the darkness. Watching.

Not approaching. Just . . . watching.

Liora didn’t scream. She didn’t move. She held her ground, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst through her ribs.

Good thing she hadn’t let herself merge with the water—hadn’t allowed her true nature to slip free. If she had, they would’ve seen it. She would’ve been found out.

The figure didn’t step forward. It simply lingered in the shadows, the way a predator did when it wasn’t sure if it wanted to pounce or leave the prey alone.

Liora stood there, water trickling down her spine, body trembling—not from the cold, but from the fake effect that she was scared. She had a feeling she knew whoever was there looking at her.

And if she played her cards right, this could be more than just a stolen moment of freedom—it could be the beginning of something else. A chance encounter. A spark. Maybe even . . . something dangerously close to romance.