로그인Chapter Ninety Three Emrich POV The tavern was dim and smoky, the kind of place where conversations were had in low voices and eyes never lingered too long on anyone. Emrich sat in the corner, his back to the wall, a half empty mug of ale before him. He had not wanted to come. He had better things to do than listen to the complaints of a woman who had already lost everything. But Odette had insisted. And Emrich, despite his better judgment, had agreed to meet her. She sat across from him, her hood pulled low over her face, her hands wrapped around a cup of wine. She looked thinner than she had at the festival, her cheekbones sharper, her eyes darker. The silver cane rested against the table, a reminder of what she had lost. "You came," she said. "You asked." Odette laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "I did not think you would. You have always been loyal to him. Even when he did not deserve it." Emrich said nothing. He took a sip of his ale and waited. "I want justice,"
Chapter Ninety Three Emrich POV The tavern was dim and smoky, the kind of place where conversations were had in low voices and eyes never lingered too long on anyone. Emrich sat in the corner, his back to the wall, a half empty mug of ale before him. He had not wanted to come. He had better things to do than listen to the complaints of a woman who had already lost everything. But Odette had insisted. And Emrich, despite his better judgment, had agreed to meet her. She sat across from him, her hood pulled low over her face, her hands wrapped around a cup of wine. She looked thinner than she had at the festival, her cheekbones sharper, her eyes darker. The silver cane rested against the table, a reminder of what she had lost. "You came," she said. "You asked." Odette laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "I did not think you would. You have always been loyal to him. Even when he did not deserve it." Emrich said nothing. He took a sip of his ale and waited. "I want justice,"
Chapter Ninety Three Emrich POV The tavern was dim and smoky, the kind of place where conversations were had in low voices and eyes never lingered too long on anyone. Emrich sat in the corner, his back to the wall, a half empty mug of ale before him. He had not wanted to come. He had better things to do than listen to the complaints of a woman who had already lost everything. But Odette had insisted. And Emrich, despite his better judgment, had agreed to meet her. She sat across from him, her hood pulled low over her face, her hands wrapped around a cup of wine. She looked thinner than she had at the festival, her cheekbones sharper, her eyes darker. The silver cane rested against the table, a reminder of what she had lost. "You came," she said. "You asked." Odette laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "I did not think you would. You have always been loyal to him. Even when he did not deserve it." Emrich said nothing. He took a sip of his ale and waited. "I want justice,"
Chapter Ninety Three Emrich POV The tavern was dim and smoky, the kind of place where conversations were had in low voices and eyes never lingered too long on anyone. Emrich sat in the corner, his back to the wall, a half empty mug of ale before him. He had not wanted to come. He had better things to do than listen to the complaints of a woman who had already lost everything. But Odette had insisted. And Emrich, despite his better judgment, had agreed to meet her. She sat across from him, her hood pulled low over her face, her hands wrapped around a cup of wine. She looked thinner than she had at the festival, her cheekbones sharper, her eyes darker. The silver cane rested against the table, a reminder of what she had lost. "You came," she said. "You asked." Odette laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "I did not think you would. You have always been loyal to him. Even when he did not deserve it." Emrich said nothing. He took a sip of his ale and waited. "I want justice," Odette s
Chapter One Hundred Two Hecate POV The castle was a whirlwind of activity, servants rushing through the corridors with armloads of silk and mountains of flowers. The great hall had been transformed overnight, the stone floors polished to a mirror shine, the banners replaced with fresh ones bearing the Emberclaw sigil intertwined with the midnight star of my adopted pack. Candles by the hundreds waited in their holders, ready to be lit at dawn. Tomorrow, I would marry Maddox. The thought should have filled me with joy. Part of me, the part that still remembered being Samantha, the girl who had believed in fairy tales and happy endings, was thrilled. But another part, the part that had been forged in betrayal and shaped by revenge, was wary. Tomorrow was not just a wedding. It was a performance. A declaration. A gambit in a game that was far from over. I stood in my chambers, staring at the gown that hung on the dress form in the corner. It was beautiful, I had to admit. Ysabella h
Chapter One Hundred TwoHecate POVThe castle was a whirlwind of activity, servants rushing through the corridors with armloads of silk and mountains of flowers. The great hall had been transformed overnight, the stone floors polished to a mirror shine, the banners replaced with fresh ones bearing the Emberclaw sigil intertwined with the midnight star of my adopted pack. Candles by the hundreds waited in their holders, ready to be lit at dawn.Tomorrow, I would marry Maddox.The thought should have filled me with joy. Part of me, the part that still remembered being Samantha, the girl who had believed in fairy tales and happy endings, was thrilled. But another part, the part that had been forged in betrayal and shaped by revenge, was wary. Tomorrow was not just a wedding. It was a performance. A declaration. A gambit in a game that was far from over.I stood in my chambers, staring at the gown that hung on the dress form in the corner. It was beautiful, I had to admit. Ysabella had ov
Samantha POVThe blade caught the light, and I knew I was going to die.Ranulf stood over me with the dagger raised, his grey eyes empty of anything but cold resolve. The guards held my arms pinned behind my back, their fingers digging into my wrists hard enough to leave bruises. I could not move.
Third POVThe throne room had never felt more like a cage.Maddox sat on the cold stone steps before his empty throne, his wrists bound in heavy iron chains that ran to anchors bolted into the floor. The silver in the metal bit into his skin, leaving welts that wept and healed and wept again. He h
Samantha POVThe cell was cold, but the wound on my wrist burned.I sat pressed into the farthest corner, my back against the damp stone, my knees drawn to my chest. The strip of fabric I had torn from the ragged shift they had thrown me was already soaked through, the dark stain spreading faster
Maddox moved through his private garden selecting dark crimson roses, wanting perfection for Samantha. The morning replayed in his mind, her laughter, their kiss, the bond surging between them. Anticipation filled his chest as he climbed to his chambers, bouquet raised like an offering. He pushed







