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Chapter 75
Last Updated:
2025-07-07 01:50:29
Latest chapter
Mated To My Stepbrother Chapter 80
Ashton’s POVThe great hall was transformed. Lanterns cast warm, flickering light. Music pulsed – some modern beat layered over traditional pack rhythms. Laughter and conversation swirled, a stark contrast to the desolation inside him. The air was thick with the mingled scents of pack, food, and anticipation. He stood near the edge, a tall, dark pillar of misery in the celebratory chaos, nursing a whiskey he had no intention of drinking. He felt like an exhibit. *The Grieving Heir.* He scanned the crowd out of habit, a futile reflex, knowing he wouldn’t find the one face he craved.“Ashton.” The voice was honeyed, laced with a false warmth that grated on his nerves. Loveth materialized beside him, a vision in shimmering silver that clung to her curves. Her scent, heavy with expensive perfume and predatory intent, washed over him, cloying and unwelcome. She touched his arm, her fingers lingering possessively. “You look… intense tonight. Brooding suits you.” Her smile was calculated, de
Mated To My Stepbrother Chapter 79
Ashton's POVThe silence in the pack house was a physical thing. Thick. Suffocating. It pressed against Ashton’s temples, a low drone replacing the frantic drumming of rain and his own desperate roars from days that felt like years ago. He stood at the window of his father’s – no, *the Alpha’s* – study, staring out at the moon-drenched grounds of Moon-Star territory. The manicured lawns, the ancient oaks, the training grounds – all pristine, orderly, mocking. Everything was exactly as it should be. Except Novah wasn’t here.The hunt into the rogue lands had been a brutal, bloody failure. Days of tracking, nights spent tense and ready for ambush, the metallic tang of violence hanging heavy in the air. They’d found traces – more torn fabric, scuff marks near the border river, the lingering stench of unfamiliar wolves. But no Novah. No body. No closure. Just… nothing. The trail vanished like smoke over water. The roges, whoever they were, had covered their tracks with brutal efficiency,
Mated To My Stepbrother Chapter 78
Novah’s POV The rain didn’t stop. It became the world. A relentless, grey curtain hammering the canopy above Ashton, soaking through the heavy waxed duster until it clung like a second, icy skin. He moved through the woods east of the estate, a relentless, crashing force against the storm. Branches whipped his face, leaving stinging welts he barely registered. Mud sucked at his boots with each heavy step."**NOVAH!**"His roar tore through the drumming rain, raw and desperate, echoing off the ancient pines only to be swallowed by the wind. He strained his senses past their limits, pushing through the olfactory chaos of wet earth, decaying leaves, and pine resin. He hunted for that fragile thread – vanilla and ozone, the unique signature of her fear. Nothing. Just the oppressive, damp void where her scent should have been."**ANSWER ME! NOVAH!**"Silence answered, thick and accusing. Each unanswered call was a hammer blow to the fragile casing around his panic. The carefully construct
Mated To My Stepbrother Chapter 77
Ashton’s POV“She… she was in her room, sir,” Meredith stammered, eyes wide with fear. “I brought soup earlier… she didn’t answer, but I thought… she was resting…”“The door’s locked!” Ashton snapped. He didn’t wait. Stepping back, he braced himself and slammed his shoulder into the wood just beside the lock. Once. Twice. The frame splintered with a sickening crack on the third impact, and the door swung violently inward.The room hit him like a physical blow. Cold. Empty. Impossibly still. Rain streaked the window, casting shifting grey light on the untouched bed. The soup bowl sat on the desk, the contents congealed, greasy, and cold. A school textbook lay open, pages pristine. But Novah… Novah was gone. The air held only the faint, fading scent of her shampoo and the sharp tang of fear.The world tilted. The carefully constructed wall inside him cracked, then crumbled. The cold stone of unease exploded into white-hot panic. *Gone.* She was gone. His breath hitched, a ragged sound i
Mated To My Stepbrother Chapter 76
Ashton's POVThe conservatory windows wept rivulets, blurring the skeletal trees beyond into grey smears. Rain lashed the glass, a relentless percussion against the unnatural quiet of the mansion. Ashton stood with his back to the room, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark jeans, knuckles clenched tight enough to ache. The phantom scent of rain-drenched earth and something uniquely *Novah* – vanilla and ozone, maybe, or just desperation – clung stubbornly to his senses despite the closed doors.*“Go to your room, Novah. Stay out of sight. Let the storm pass.”*His own words echoed back, hollow and cruel even in memory. Necessary. It had been necessary. The pack’s psychic hum, a low thrum of judgment and suspicion vibrating through the polished floorboards, had demanded it. Loveth’s triumph, Camilia’s tight-lipped disapproval, the elders’ watchful silence – all of it a cage stronger than iron. Letting Novah stay visible, vulnerable, after that damned video… it would have been
Mated To My Stepbrother Chapter 75
Novah's POVRain. It was always rain. It lashed the windows of the conservatory, blurring Ashton’s turned back into a smudge of grey indifference. His words – *"Go to your room, Novah. Stay out of sight. Let the storm pass."* – weren’t just dismissal. They were a death sentence. A verdict passed by the pack, delivered by the one person whose warmth, however fleeting, had felt like oxygen.The numbness that followed was thick, syrupy. It didn’t erase the pain, just muffled its screams. It wrapped around my thoughts, making them slow, sluggish, like wading through frozen mud. *Omega. Weak. Shallow. Problem.* The pack’s psychic hum vibrated through the very stones of the mansion, a relentless drone of condemnation. *Drugged slut. Stalker. Disgrace.* It wasn't just whispers anymore; it was the air I choked on.My room. My gilded cage. Meredith had left soup. It sat cold on the desk, congealing. The smell turned my stomach. School. My final project. The intricate molecular model I’d spent
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