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31: That Wasn't My Blade
Veröffentlichungsdatum:
07.10.2026 03:06:17
Aktuellstes Kapitel
My Rogue Mate, My Captor 93: The Things We Still Share
POV: GraysonIvy’s things were still in my apartment, and though I had told her to come get them, she wasn’t here yet. There was no rush, I’d said so myself. But on Sunday morning I stood in the kitchen with my coffee going cold and counted them without meaning to. Her gray mug on the second shelf, the one with the chipped handle she refused to throw out. The hairband around the bathroom doorknob. A paperback lay face-down on the arm of the couch, spine cracked at page two hundred and something, where she’d stopped on a night I couldn’t remember.I’d asked for space. I hadn’t understood that space would be so full of her.I sat down on the couch with the mug in my hand, careful not to move the book.Three years ago, we’d lain on this same cushion arguing about names. It had been a game, mostly. She’d wanted something old-fashioned. I’d wanted something short enough to shout across a park. She’d laughed and said, *We’ll fight about it when it’s rea
My Rogue Mate, My Captor 92: The Security Chief
POV: DamonFour years ago, the Council accused Ronan of stealing a supernatural knife. I'd never understood what he could possibly have wanted with it, or how the evidence had led them to him. By the time I began asking questions, he’d already been exiled.By midnight, I’d read the file four times and found nothing wrong with it. By two, I’d found one thing.It wasn’t dramatic. It was a pair of timestamps, eleven lines apart in a document I’d skimmed before and trusted, because it was the kind of document you trust. Neat, official, and signed in all the right places.I put down my pen and read them again.Elowyn arrived at nine with a folder under one arm, and Ronan came in behind her looking like he hadn’t slept. I’d cleared the long table in the study and laid out the knife investigation in order: the theft report, the scene inventory, the seizure report, the custody log. Two days had passed since we’d left Edmund Harrow’s kitchen, and
My Rogue Mate, My Captor 91: The Man at the Intake Desk
POV: RonanEdmund Harrow lived at the end of a gravel lane, in a narrow stone cottage with a vegetable garden and a gate that no longer closed properly.We'd left before dawn, and it had still taken the better part of the day. Damon drove. I watched the road and said almost nothing, because anything I said would have been about the man at the end of it. Retired Receiving Officer for Administrative Records, sixty-eight years old, a widower, according to the directory. Edmund Harrow. I'd said the name to myself so many times on the way that it had stopped sounding like a name.“Remember,” Damon said, shutting off the engine. “You're here to listen.”“I know.”“I'm saying it because you've been gripping that door handle for forty miles.”I let go of it.Harrow answered on the second knock. He was thin, leaning on a cane, his reading glasses pushed into his white hair and his cardigan buttoned wrong. He looked at Damon, then
My Rogue Mate, My Captor 90: The Answer I Couldn't Give
POV: Ivy The restaurant kept going around us. A server laughed two tables over, glasses clinked, and a candle guttered in its little glass cup. Grayson sat very still across from me, his napkin folded and his hands flat on the cloth, waiting.“I love you,” I said.“I know you do.”“I do, Grayson. I'm not saying it to avoid the question.”“I didn't say you were.” His voice was gentle, which made it worse. “But that isn't what I asked.”“Yes.” The word came out too quickly and then not quickly enough. “I want to marry you. Of course I do.”It landed a beat late, and we both heard it.His eyes dropped to my left hand, to the ring catching the candlelight, and came back up. He didn't look angry. He looked like a man checking a measurement he'd already taken twice.“You hesitated,” he said.“I'm tired. It's been a long week.”“That's what I keep telling myself.” A small, humorless smile. “
My Rogue Mate, My Captor 89: The Distance Between Us
POV: Ivy I'd already had a cup of coffee, but three hours of sleep wasn't nearly enough to get me through the day. I walked into the hospital with a phone that hadn't lit up once. Ronan hadn't called back. I'd told myself I didn't care when I checked it at six, and again at seven, and again in the elevator. By the time I reached the ward, I'd stopped pretending. He'd hung up on me, and he hadn't called back. That was the whole message. Grayson's text arrived during rounds.*Good morning, Ivy. Whenever you have a moment, could you let me know when you'd be free to collect a few things you left at my place? No rush.*I read it twice in the corridor, standing beside a medication cart. There was nothing unkind about it. That was what bothered me. No emojis, no familiar joke at the end. It sounded like something he'd send a colleague.I stared at the screen until a nurse called my name.At noon, I called him.“Ivy.” He sounded surprised. “Is everything all right?”“Everything's fine. I j
My Rogue Mate, My Captor 88: The Man Behind the Paper
POV: RonanI'd hung up on Ivy at one in the morning. By dawn, I regretted ending the conversation that way, though I hadn't changed my mind about a word I'd said. By the time I reached the study, I was in no mood to be patient.Damon was already there, his silver hair untidy and his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his blue eyes moving across three documents Elowyn had spread along the table. The forged authorization with my father's signature. The Ashgrave transfer record. The administrative directive that had kept the estate funded and its restrictions in place. Rain tapped steadily against the window.“Sit,” Elowyn said, without looking up. “You're pacing without moving, and it's distracting.”I sat.“Here's what we have,” she said, and tapped each page in turn. “In July 2022, an authorization appears under Cassian's name, months after he died. In August, your custody at Ashgrave is recorded under restrictions that cite that authorization. And this directive,” she touched the third pa
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