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Chapter 8
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2025-06-03 23:34:54
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Mated To My Stepbrother Chapter 127
Novah’s POV The afternoon offered a fragile escape. The herb garden, tucked against the south wall, was a pocket of stubborn life. Weak winter sun struggled through high clouds, warming the dark earth fractionally. Meredith was already there, her hands buried in the soil, tending rosemary and thyme that defied the frost. The air was clean, sharp with the scent of damp earth and sage, a stark, blessed contrast to the Keep’s thick atmosphere. I knelt beside her, mimicking her movements, pulling weeds with clumsy, city-soft fingers. The physical act helped. Grounding. *Anchor.* Earth. Cold, clean air. The scent of green defiance. *Layer calm.* The pack pulse was muffled here, softened by stone and distance, though the underlying anxiety still thrummed, a constant, low drone."He pushes harder," I said quietly, wrestling with a tenacious root.Meredith sighed, a soft exhalation like wind through bare branches. "Fear feeds his boldness. Danger’s shadow makes him taller. He scents blood, c
Mated To My Stepbrother Chapter 126
Novah's POVDawn wasn’t gentle. It seeped through the arrow slit like grey sludge, leaching colour from the stones, failing to touch the chill deep in the Keep’s bones. I lay still, eyes closed, breathing shallow. Not listening, exactly. *Feeling*. The pack pulse.Low tide again. Not the frantic surge of crisis, nor the suffocating undertow of grief. This was slower, denser. A thick, viscous thrumming beneath the skin of the world. *Anxiety. North.* It coated everything, sticky and cold. *Weariness.* Bone-deep, the kind that settled after too many hollow-eyed returns from the hunt. *Watchfulness.* Sharp, brittle shards – Thorne’s faction, coiled and waiting. And beneath it all, the bedrock: *Grief.* For Finn’s mother. For Finn. Settled now, not a wound but a constant ache, like damp wool against the skin. *Grief. Finn.*I pushed myself up. The stone floor bit into my bare soles, a familiar, grounding shock. *Anchor.* Cold. Solid. Unyielding. Yesterday’s raw edges – Doric’s fury, Maren
Mated To My Stepbrother Chapter 125
Novah’s POV The word hung in the suddenly silent hall, sharp as a shard of ice. *Distraction.* Heat flooded my face, a mix of scalding anger and cold humiliation. The wolf surged, a silent snarl building in my chest. *Guardian!* I clenched my fists under the table, nails biting crescents into my palms. *Anchor.* Stone. Breath. The scrape of Torin’s spoon. *Layer calm. Layer calm.* Not for Thorne. For the pack. For the frightened eyes watching. *Show them the banks hold.*Torin’s voice cut through the brittle air, low and hard as the mountain itself. "Every soul under this roof *is* the core, Thorne. From the greybeards to the weanlings. Protect one, protect all. That’s the strength of the bond." He held Thorne’s gaze. "Or have the years worn that truth thin?"Thorne’s smile was a thin, bloodless line. "I forget nothing, Beta. Least of all the cost of misplaced… sentiment." He pushed his barely-touched bowl away. "We’ll see how enduring that bond feels when the enemy’s breath mists th
Mated To My Stepbrother Chapter 124
Novah's POVThe cold wasn't just in the stones anymore. It had seeped into the marrow of the Keep, into the spaces between breaths. Dawn was a reluctant smear of grey beyond my slit window, offering no warmth, only the slow reveal of another day heavy with unspoken things. I lay still, eyes closed, listening. Not just to the distant drip of melting frost, but to the *hum*. The pack pulse.It was a low tide today. Not the crashing waves of yesterday’s confrontation at the forge, nor the suffocating undertow of Maren’s grief. This was deeper, slower. A thick, viscous thrumming beneath the skin of the world. *Anxiety. North.* It coated everything, sticky and cold. *Weariness.* Bone-deep, from hunters returning hollow-eyed under a moon that offered no prey. *Watchfulness.* Sharp, brittle, like shards of ice – Thorne’s faction, coiled and waiting. And beneath it all, the bedrock layer: *Grief.* For Finn’s mother. For Finn. Settled now, not sharp, but pervasive, like damp in old wool. *Grie
Mated To My Stepbrother Chapter 123
Novah’s POV The word hung in the air, sharp as a knife. *Distraction.* Heat flooded my face, a mix of anger and humiliation. The wolf surged again, a protective snarl building in my chest. *Guardian!* I clenched my fists under the table, nails digging into my palms. *Anchor.* Stone. Breath. The scrape of a spoon. *Layer calm. Layer calm.* Not for Thorne. For the pack. For the anxious eyes watching this exchange. *Show them the banks hold.*Torin’s voice cut through the tension, low and hard as bedrock. "Every member of this pack is the core, Thorne. From the oldest warrior to the youngest pup. Protecting one is protecting all. That is the strength of the bond." He held Thorne’s gaze. "Or have you forgotten?"Thorne’s smile was thin, humorless. "I forget nothing, Beta. Especially not the cost of misplaced… sentiment." He pushed his barely-touched bowl away. "We shall see how enduring the bond feels when the enemy is at the *gate*, not just beyond the ridge." He stood, Roric and Selene
Mated To My Stepbrother Chapter 122
Novah's POVDawn bled grey and reluctant through the narrow slit of my window. Not the fiery promise of sunrise, just a slow leaching of the dark, like water soaking into parched earth. I lay still, eyes closed, breathing shallow. The stone beneath my thin mattress was cold, a familiar anchor against the chaos already stirring *within*.*Anchor.* Breath. Cold stone. The rough weave of the blanket. *Layer calm.*But beneath that deliberate focus, the pack pulse hummed. It wasn't the sharp, discordant clash of yesterday's forge confrontation, nor the suffocating wave of Maren’s grief. This was… deeper. A low thrum, like the Keep itself groaning under its own weight. *Anxiety. North.* Thick and pervasive. *Weariness.* From the hunters returning late, empty-handed again. *Watchfulness.* Thorne’s faction, sharp-eyed and coiled. And beneath it all, a persistent, cold *grief* that hadn’t lessened, just settled into the marrow of the place. *Grief. Finn’s mother. Finn.*I pushed myself up, sw
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