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Chapter 13: First Note

Autor: Lara Combs
last update Última actualización: 2025-11-23 05:09:17

The bone resonator did not leave Kaelen’s possession. It became a dark lodestone, a constant, silent third presence in the penthouse. He studied it for hours, his face a grim mask, his fingers tracing the chaotic spiral etched into its base as if he could decipher its secrets through touch alone. The air itself felt thin, stretched taut by the unspoken question: When would the first note be played?

My training shifted, becoming more urgent, more brutal. It was no longer about awareness or subtle pulses. It was about survival.

“He will attack through the bond,” Kaelen said, his voice stripped of all emotion. We stood in the center of his sanctum, the books watching us like silent witnesses. “He will try to use it to inflict pain, to cause confusion, to shatter your mind. You cannot block it. You must learn to absorb the blow and redirect its energy.”

“How?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“By making the fortress flexible. By understanding that the bond is not a wall, but a web. Whe
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  • SOLD TO THE WEREWOLF KING    Chapter 37: The First Dawn

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  • SOLD TO THE WEREWOLF KING    Chapter 36: The Amber Prison

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  • SOLD TO THE WEREWOLF KING    Chapter 35: The Scavenger's Hour

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  • SOLD TO THE WEREWOLF KING    Chapter 34: The Wellspring's Heir

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  • SOLD TO THE WEREWOLF KING    Chapter 33: The Ossuary Gambit

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  • SOLD TO THE WEREWOLF KING    Chapter 33: The Ossuary Gambit

    The voice from the darkness was a hook in my soul, reeling us forward into the chill. We stepped through the false wall, our single flashlight beam cutting a pathetic swath through the profound black. It fell upon bones. Not neatly stacked, but piled, heaped, a jumbled sea of femurs, skulls, and rib cages that filled a cavernous space from the slimy floor to the shadowed vault of the ceiling decades above. The Ossuary. The collective remains of centuries of Blackwood pack, their final energy a silent, heavy blanket that smothered the air and muted the magic in my blood to a faint, dying whisper.Vorian’s trap was perfectly sprung. We were in a cage of his design.“The dead make such excellent company,” Morvana’s voice echoed, directionless, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. “So quiet. So… settled. Unlike the living. Always squirming.”Lillian flinched beside me, her hand tightening on the cloth-wrapped bowl. The tether, that psychic fishhook, gave a sickening tug. She gaspe

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