Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 385

Was she hallucinating from fear, or had the master of this castle gone mad?

Did he have some kind of death wish?

Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point; all she could hear was the frantic pounding of her heart. Sweat trickled down her temple, yet Mila didn’t dare move a muscle.

She was terrified of provoking the wolf’s aggression.

Her only hope was that this beast was domesticated, its wild instincts dulled enough that it wouldn’t bite without reason. She certainly wasn’t confident she could outrun a wolf—one wrong move and she’d probably be pinned and torn apart.

She just didn’t understand.

It wasn’t like she never went to church. How could her luck still be this terrible?

Was she really going to die here, devoured by a wolf before even seeing her great-aunt awaken? To die like this—unseen, unfought—was just too much to accept.

Her eyes burned with tears, frustration and fear and anger all tangled together.

The wolf edged closer, so near she could feel the coarse, plush fur brushing her calf—rough yet soft, the bristles tingling against her skin. Its hot breath washed over her leg, and she became aware of something damp and sticky brushing her skin. Mila wanted to cry.

The wolf was drooling.

Of course it was drooling—its mouth was watering at the sight of her!

How could there be no one in this massive castle to come and drag the beast away? Surely her unknown captor hadn’t gone to all this trouble just to feed her to a wolf, had they? That seemed like an awfully elaborate plan for such a grisly end.

Mila was starting to lose hope, her mind drifting to nonsense.

What else could she do? She could feel something sharp and hard nudging her calf now—the wolf was clearly testing her flesh with its teeth, gauging whether it was worth a bite.

She was already the main course.

Just when despair was sinking its claws in, she caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her gaze and saw a young woman at the far end of the corridor, dressed in a crisp black-and-white maid’s uniform, golden hair tied up in a neat bun. Clear blue eyes studied her from across the hallway.

Mila’s heart leapt with hope.

She didn’t dare raise her voice, but her eyes pleaded for help: Please, do something! Get this wolf away from me!

But the maid only glanced at her, then turned and walked away.

Mila stared in disbelief.

Seriously? Whether this was a kidnapping or some bizarre prank, how could they be so negligent after dragging her here? What if she died?

Wait a minute…

She’d been frozen in this standoff with the wolf for a while now, but it still hadn’t bitten her.

Maybe… it didn’t eat people?

Honestly, the odds didn’t look good either way. Mila decided to risk it and edged her leg forward, trying to step past the wolf. The moment she moved, its jaws clamped around her calf—not biting down, but making it clear that one more step would tear her skin open.

No blood yet, but the wolf was already this eager.

If it tasted blood, she’d be finished.

Mila froze.

She stood in the corridor, forcing herself to ignore the primal urge to flee, feeling the wolf’s hot breath and sharp teeth pressing against her leg. They remained locked in that tense tableau.

The corridor was lined with oil paintings—a pale woman in a white dress stood motionless as a full-grown wolf, pelt a mix of tawny, gray, and black, prowled around her. Its golden eyes glinted coldly, creating a wild and surreal picture—a beauty and the beast scene come to life… at least, if you ignored the way the wolf kept mouthing her calf, teeth grazing but never biting, until her leg was slick with its drool.