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Chapter 71 — The Howl That Breaks Them

Penulis: Lee Grego
last update Tanggal publikasi: 2026-01-09 11:09:46

The corridor outside the dungeon stairs smells like sweat and silver and the sharp relief of not dying.

A runner’s report still rings in my ears: the north wave paused, arguing, some backing away.

Nate’s lie is working. Not perfectly. But enough to fracture Rowan’s fist into fingers. Adrian’s hand stays firm at the small of my back as we move, steady pressure, a constant reminder that he’s here, that he’s not letting me get swallowed by the chaos.

“North wall,” Logan orders as he passes us a
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    Dawn doesn’t arrive clean. It seeps into the capital through smoke and damp stone, through the ache in my joints and the ragged breaths of wolves who spent the night refusing to break. The courtyard below the north wall is no longer a battlefield, now it’s a ledger. Bodies covered in cloaks. Silver nets coiled like discarded skins. Rogues bound in lines with their heads down, wrists cuffed, eyes vacant with the shock of surviving failure. The rest of them fled. Not in formation, nothing disciplined, nothing loyal. Just scattered shapes vanishing into treeline and fog, leaving behind the dead and the unlucky and the ones whose courage ran out the moment Rowan’s grip loosened. Logan stands in the open with a commander’s stillness, issuing orders like he’s nailing the world back together plank by plank. “Count the surrendered twice,” he snaps. “Separate the ones carrying silver. No interrogations until healers clear them. And nobody chases into the forest, containment first.” Conta

  • The Lullaby of Wolfbane   Chapter 71 — The Howl That Breaks Them

    The corridor outside the dungeon stairs smells like sweat and silver and the sharp relief of not dying. A runner’s report still rings in my ears: the north wave paused, arguing, some backing away. Nate’s lie is working. Not perfectly. But enough to fracture Rowan’s fist into fingers. Adrian’s hand stays firm at the small of my back as we move, steady pressure, a constant reminder that he’s here, that he’s not letting me get swallowed by the chaos. “North wall,” Logan orders as he passes us at a fast jog, already shifting his attention back to the gate. His voice is clipped, controlled. “If they stall, we push. If they surge, we hold.” Lia is beside him like a shadow with teeth. “Interior is contained. Rowan stays chained.” Nate, still pale, still stubborn, follows with that focused, older look he’s been wearing since tonight began. “They’re hesitating,” he says, voice tight. “Don’t waste it.” We don’t. We run. And then we shift because there’s no faster truth than a wolf on purp

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    The run from the north wall to the dungeon feels like sprinting through a body that’s trying to hold itself together. Stone corridors. Torchlight. The sharp, metallic bite of silver in the air. Every corner guarded. Every door barred. The palace isn’t pretending anymore, it’s bracing for impact. Adrian stays beside me the whole way, close enough that his shoulder brushes mine every few steps like he’s checking I’m still real. He’s still healing, his scent says so, that faint edge of knitted flesh and stubborn pain, but his pace never falters. Neither does his focus. We hit the stairwell down and shift mid descent, bones snapping, fur bursting, the world sharpening into scent and vibration. The dungeon breathes cold up at us, damp stone and old fear and something new: oil, masked wolves, too clean, too deliberate. “They’re here,” I growl through clenched teeth. Adrian’s wolf answers with a low, vibrating rumble that makes the stairwell feel smaller. We take the last steps in a

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    The north wall shakes like the capital itself is flinching. From the battlements, the world below is all motion and sound, torches bobbing in the dark like fireflies with teeth, steel scraping against stone, the heavy boom of bodies hitting the outer barricade again and again. Rogue scent rides the wind in waves: wet fur, old blood, smoke, and that faint chemical oil Rowan’s people use to lie about who they are. My wolf’s hackles rise. Beside me, Adrian’s wolf is a dark storm given shape, moving tight to my shoulder, matching my pace even while he’s still healing. I feel his restraint in every controlled step, every choice not to lunge too far, too hard. We’re both holding back. Not from fear. From strategy. Logan’s wolf stands at the centerline with the outer guard, huge, black furred, voice cutting through the chaos in sharp barks that translate into instant movement. Silver nets are stacked in coils. Archers stand ready with silver tipped bolts that glint under torchlight.

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    The east wing corridor still reeks of oils and fear when Lia reads the note. “North gate,” she says, voice quiet and lethal. “Wolves massing outside the capital.” For a second, my mind refuses to compute it, because we’ve spent the last hours fighting inside walls, inside rooms, inside breaths. But Rowan Kane never fought only where you were looking. Nate swallows, face pale under the scrapes. “They were waiting for the Queen’s death signal. And now they’re moving anyway.” Logan’s eyes go hard. “Because he’s in cuffs.” Adrian’s hand closes around mine, tight enough to hurt, careful anyway. His gaze is fixed on the corridor like he can see the gate through stone. “They’re forcing an open attack,” he says, voice rough. “No more subtlety.” Lia’s eyes flick to the sealed hatch and the captured infiltrators being hauled away. “We just cut off his inner hand. This is his outer fist.” My wolf rises under my skin, pacing. Fight or run. Protect or hunt. It doesn’t care about polit

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    Nate’s “order” is written on palace, quality paper so it feels official in the hand. That detail alone makes my stomach twist. Because it means someone in the palace has been supplying Rowan’s network with more than poison and keys, they’ve been supplying legitimacy. Melody stands over Nate’s shoulder while he writes, gloved fingers holding the K stamped wax packet like it’s radioactive. Lia watches the door. Logan is already moving pieces in the corridors. And Adrian, bandaged, furious, better enough to be dangerous, stands close behind me with his hand resting at my hip like he’s anchoring us both. Nate keeps his face calm while he writes the lie that could save the Queen’s life. Operation Nightfall proceeds. New convergence point: East wall hatch. Time moved forward. No delays. Use greeting. Follow the messenger. Failure is treason. He finishes, folds it, and presses the wax down with the K stamp. The seal lands clean. Perfect. Too perfect. My wolf bristles at the smel

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    The morning of the shifting demonstration arrives like an execution date. I wake before the bell, before the dormitory stirs, before Tessa starts trying to convince herself that destiny loves her personally. My eyes snap open to the pale ceiling and for a moment I’m back home, back under my mother’

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    I wake up in the capital with my heart already racing, like my body knows it’s being observed even when my eyes are closed.For a few seconds I forget where I am, then the unfamiliar ceiling snaps into focus, the pale stone walls, the thin curtains that smell faintly of soap and sun. Tessa is spraw

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    Mom makes me drink it on the threshold.Not at the table like always where the routine can pretend it’s harmless but right there at the front door, with my travel bag in my hand and the cold morning air creeping into the house like a warning.The chipped mug is warm against my palms.The liquid ins

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    The dawn doesn’t arrive with fanfare. It glides in like a thief, soft and unassuming, stealing the last of the night’s breath while the house still pretends to sleep. The clock on the mantel ticks a stubborn rhythm, as if to remind me that time is a currency I’m spending on a trip I didn’t ask for,

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