The Bride Of The Devil-Chapter 76: The Devil Is Watching Pt1

Ivan helped Lydia back into the carriage, his hand gently supporting her as she stepped up. Her body was still trembling. She didn’t say anything. Her eyes were red, her lips pale, and tears still ran silently down her cheeks. She looked so small, so vulnerable.

He helped her sit. She slumped into the corner of the seat and held her arms tightly around herself. Her face was turned away from him, pressed against the velvet cushion of the carriage wall. Her breathing was shaky, uneven, as if her chest couldn’t decide whether to hold it in or let everything pour out.

"It’s alright," Ivan said softly, kneeling beside her. His hand touched her shoulder carefully, not wanting to startle her. "You’re safe now. I promise you, nothing will happen to you. I won’t let anything happen to you."

Lydia didn’t respond. She just nodded weakly and wiped her face again. Her fingers shook as they moved across her cheeks.

Ivan stood and stepped out of the carriage. His heart was pounding. Something was off. Very off. The way Lydia had reacted—it didn’t feel like imagination or fear. It felt real. Too real. Like a memory crashing into the present.

He turned to the guards standing nearby.

"Stay close to the carriage," he ordered. "And keep watch over her. Don’t take your eyes off her for even one second."

"Yes, Your Highness," the guards answered firmly.

Ivan didn’t wait. He turned toward the lake, walking carefully.

His boots crunched on the snow as he moved. The wind was quiet now, but it was bitterly cold. He pulled his coat tighter. His eyes moved sharply from one tree to another. The sky above was heavy, gray, like it was holding its breath too.

He walked to the same spot where Lydia had fallen.

He paused there, staring across the frozen lake in the same direction she had. Her gaze had been locked on something—or someone—on the other side. His eyes narrowed.

He scanned the other side. Nothing. Just trees and snow.

But he wasn’t satisfied.

He began walking around the edge of the lake until he spotted a narrow wooden bridge that crossed over the frozen water. It was old but still usable. He crossed it carefully, his footsteps slow and steady. His eyes stayed sharp.

When he reached the other side, he walked to the exact place Lydia would have been looking at.

For a moment, there was nothing.

No movement. No sound.

Just snow.

He almost turned around.

But then—he saw it.

A footprint.

A single boot print pressed deep into the snow.

He froze.

It wasn’t Lydia’s. It wasn’t a guard’s.

It was wide, larger than hers. Clearly a man’s. And fresh.

He bent down and examined it closely. It hadn’t been there long—no snow had covered it yet. His breath caught slightly. He followed it.

There was another. Then another. A trail.

He walked slowly, eyes focused, footsteps matching the prints in front of him.

They led to a tree.

But after that—they vanished.

Replaced by something else.

Hoofprints.

Horse.

He squatted down and ran his fingers over the prints.

Whoever it was, they had been watching. On foot. Then escaped on horseback—just minutes ago.

Lydia hadn’t been imagining it.

Someone had been there.

They were being followed. freewёbnoνel-com

Ivan stood up quickly. His jaw clenched. His eyes scanned the woods again, but the man was gone. Nothing but the wind, and the quiet groan of the trees shifting under snow.

He turned back and hurried across the bridge.

By the time he returned, the large fallen tree had been removed from the road, and the path was clear again.

He didn’t say a word to anyone.

He climbed into the carriage quietly and shut the door.

Lydia was asleep.

She had cried herself to sleep, her face still damp, her hair messy from the wind. She was slouched in the corner, her knees pulled slightly up, her body curled like she was trying to disappear.

Ivan didn’t wake her.

He sat beside her slowly. Then leaned forward.

His hand brushed a lock of her hair from her face.

He tucked it gently behind her ear, letting his fingers linger for a moment. She looked so tired. So hurt. So heartbreakingly quiet.

He whispered softly, "Don’t worry... I won’t let anyone touch you. No one will hurt you. I swear it."

His voice trembled just a little at the end.

He reached for the blanket and pulled it over her gently, making sure she stayed warm. The soft fabric covered her shoulders, and he made sure it tucked under her chin.

Then he turned toward the window and opened the small sliding glass.

One of the guards rode beside the carriage.

Ivan called out quietly, so Lydia wouldn’t wake.

"There’s someone following us," he said, his voice calm but cold. "I don’t know who, but he was here. On the other side of the lake. He was watching her."

The guard’s face changed. "Your Highness?"

"If you see him again," Ivan continued, "you do not wait. You do not hesitate. Shoot him."

The guard straightened in his saddle. "Yes, Your Highness."

Ivan shut the window and leaned back in his seat.

His eyes didn’t leave Lydia.

He watched the way her chest rose and fell as she slept. Her body was still tense, even in sleep. Her hands clutched the edge of the blanket like a frightened child clinging to a dream.

He reached out again, carefully brushing his fingers through her hair.

She stirred a little, but didn’t wake.

Ivan closed his eyes for a moment.

His mind was spinning.

He didn’t care about the house. Or the land. Or the ship. Alexander could keep it all. But this? This was different.

Someone was following them.

Someone had tried to scare her—maybe worse.

He thought about Lydia’s words—"The man who killed my parents."

He didn’t know the full story yet, but now he had no doubt.

Someone was after her.

And this person wasn’t afraid to show themselves.

His chest tightened.

The thought of losing her made his throat feel tight.

He had almost lost her once before.

He couldn’t bear the idea of it happening again.

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