Married To Darkness-Chapter 410: Sebastian Is A Bounty Hunter

Their faces were etched in sketchy, wanted illustrations—lines brutal and unforgiving. Next to each name were the words:

"WANTED – DEAD OR ALIVE. Known fugitives. Accomplices included. High reward for their capture. Report anyone offering them sanctuary."

She clutched the parchment in trembling hands, her breath shallow.

"Thalia?" Sebastian asked lightly, noticing the silence.

She looked up at him slowly, face pale, lips parting in dread. "Who... who are you?"

Sebastian’s smile didn’t falter. "Sebastian Cole. I told you."

"No," she whispered. "No, I mean... what are you?"

He blinked, then sighed and stood, brushing his hands on his trousers. The flames behind him made his shadow stretch long, taller than life.

"I’m a wizard," he said simply. "What’s wrong, damsel?"

Thalia’s voice cracked. "Are you... are you a bounty hunter?"

His gaze sharpened—but only slightly. "I didn’t say that."

She held the paper up with shaking fingers. "Then why do you have this?"

He exhaled, stepping closer. "It’s not a problem for you, damsel. We could have a whole estate... if I bring in the seventh princess and her husband. Enough gold to burn. That’s all it is."

Her heart stuttered. "You... you said her husband."

Sebastian cocked a brow. "Is that so shocking?"

Her lips parted slightly. She almost smiled—this was the first time someone didn’t call the third prince a demon, a monster, or a curse. Didn’t put Salviana second, and he referred to him as just... her husband.

It made her feel real again. Human.

But the warmth didn’t last.

"You can’t be a bounty hunter," she whispered, standing up slowly. "Not you."

Sebastian’s smirk faded.

"Damsel—"

"No." Her voice trembled. "You helped me. You tucked my hair. You wrapped me in your coat."

"I did." His voice dropped low. "And I meant every second of it."

"Then why are you hunting us?"

Silence.

His jaw clenched, just barely. "I’m not hunting you, Thalia. I didn’t know—"

She turned. "I have to go."

"Please," he said, and his voice cracked like an old branch. "Don’t walk away."

She didn’t look back.

"Damsel," he called, heartbreak unspoken, desperation flaring.

She stopped only long enough to whisper: "Don’t follow me."

Then she ran—barefoot and shivering—his coat drowning her figure and his heart clutched tight in her fist. She didn’t see his face as he watched her vanish into the trees.

But if she had turned, just once, she might have seen that Sebastian Cole had never looked less like a wizard...

...and more like a man who had just lost something he didn’t know he was meant to protect.

Meanwhile,

Heappal woke with a start, cold sweat prickling his brow.

The campfire had burned low—just a flicker of red embers. The makeshift tent was half-collapsed, and the air carried the damp chill of pre-dawn. But none of that alarmed him as much as the empty bedroll beside his.

No sign of Thalia.

His heart kicked.

He groaned, sitting up, pain flashing through his side. The wound from the earlier skirmish throbbed like a warning bell—hot, sharp, angry. He pressed his hand to it, hissing, and glanced around.

"Thalia," he called, voice low but urgent.

No response.

His teeth clenched.

"Damn it." fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

She’d left. In the middle of the night. Alone. Again.

"She never listens," he muttered bitterly, shoving himself to his feet. The movement made white sparks dance at the edge of his vision, but he steadied himself on a tree trunk. "Running around like it’s a holiday in the bloody forest..."

But the anger in his voice didn’t hide the gnawing guilt in his chest.

He shouldn’t have yelled. Not like that. Not after she helped him. Gods, she even tried to fight alongside him, clumsy as she was. He remembered the way she’d struggled to pull one of the hunters down by the belt while he drove his sword in.

Still, she’d fought. For him.

But he’d let his pain and pride do the talking.

"Just stay silent!" he had shouted when the battle was over and they were running again. "You’re just in the way!"

She’d gone quiet then. Quieter than he liked.

It wasn’t her fault I feel like a damn broken sword, he thought now. I’m the one failing. I couldn’t protect anyone. Not the prince. Not the princess. Not even her.

He cursed again and started walking toward the river trail. She’d always been drawn to water.

But a sharp snap behind him made him freeze.

Then came laughter. Soft. Feminine. Dangerous.

"Well, well," came a sultry voice from the trees. "If it isn’t the pretty knight."

Heappal spun around, drawing his sword with a hiss of metal, even as pain bit into his side. Two figures emerged from the dark—one tall, lean man with knives strapped from shoulder to shin, and a curvy woman with crimson braids and a massive hooked spear.

"Still bleeding?" the man asked, tilting his head like a crow. "That’ll make this easier."

Heappal narrowed his eyes. "You’re not the first pair of bounty hunters I’ve dealt with."

"Mm, but we might be the last," the woman purred. "We were tracking your girl. Imagine our surprise finding you alone, handsome."

"You don’t want to do this," Heappal growled, raising his blade.

"Oh, but we do," the man smiled, flashing gold teeth.

They lunged as one.

Steel clanged against steel as Heappal blocked the first swipe from the woman’s spear, pivoting on shaky legs to parry the knife slash from the man. Pain exploded in his ribs. He staggered but kept moving, muscle memory guiding his blade.

"Still fast," the man muttered, dancing back. "But not fast enough."

The woman struck low. Heappal jumped back—but not far enough. Her spear grazed his thigh, drawing blood. He hissed and drove forward, elbowing her in the jaw, but the man came next, flipping a dagger toward his chest.

Heappal batted it away mid-air and used the opening to cut across the man’s shoulder. Blood sprayed.

"Bastard!" the man screamed.

Then the woman tackled Heappal into a tree.

The impact rattled his spine. He tasted copper.

Oh no.