All Chapters of Rejected Me Once, Never Fool Me Twice: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

The walls down here don’t echo.They suffocate.Thick, damp stone. Chains soaked in old blood and wolfsbane. Every inhale burns my lungs. Every breath is a reminder that I failed.And worse—I hesitated.I should’ve gone for the kill when I had the chance. Should’ve ripped Alpha Zander apart when he was distracted. But I looked at her, and suddenly my body betrayed me. My wolf—traitorous bastard that he is—went still. Mute. Obsessed.Mate.The word still rang in my head like a damn curse.I clenched my jaw and yanked at the iron cuffs around my wrists, ignoring the tearing of already broken skin. They had silver laced into the metal. Clever bastards.The cell was cold. Not cold enough to numb the pain, just enough to gnaw at the edge of it. My shirt was long gone. My pants were soaked with dried blood and ash. And my back—it still stung from where they’d dragged me here after she knocked me out.Winter.The girl with thunder in her blood and fire in her eyes.The girl I hated.The girl

The moment she vanished from sight, her soft footsteps swallowed by the corridor’s silence, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.Naïve little thing.That was her fifteenth visit. Fifteen days of silence, of sitting there like a stubborn ghost who couldn’t let go. And now, after days of nothing but glares and wordless staring contests, she finally cracked—healed me, brought food, unlocked one of my chains. I’d thought she was just soft. But now I know—she’s desperate.Good.I flex my right wrist. It still burns, faintly, where the wolfsbane had sunk deep. But it’s healing now. Fast. Thanks to her magic. She doesn’t even understand how dangerous that was, giving me even a sliver of strength. One chain undone. One wrist free. Magic coursing in my veins again, slowly knitting skin and nerve and bone.Amateur move, pup.I pace inside my mind, pacing because I can’t do it in reality—not yet. I sit back against the wall, stretching the wrist she freed, testing the limits. The o

“You’re not going near him again, Winter. Over my dead body.”My father’s voice cracked through the house like thunder, deep and merciless, rattling something in me I didn’t know was still fragile. Downstairs, something broke—glass, maybe—and I flinched. Again. Just like I had hours ago when he found me in the dungeon with Tyron, screaming, yanking me away from him like I was some child who didn’t know how the world worked.He’d locked me in.Literally.My bedroom door sealed with a god-blood rune, the air inside threaded with suppression magic strong enough to drag my spells to their knees. My father wasn’t a witch, but he sure knew how to cage one.“I’m not your damn prisoner!” I yelled, fists slamming against the sealed door even though I knew it wouldn’t budge.“I am your father!” he roared back from below. “And I am the Alpha God of this house! You’ll obey!”“Then stop treating me like a porcelain doll you can put on a shelf whenever I grow a spine!”Silence. A dangerous kind of

Tyron's POV The sting’s still there.Not sharp anymore—more like a ghost of pain gnawing behind my ribs, quiet, patient, waiting to remind me it’s not finished with me yet.Wolfsbane never really leaves you. Not all at once. It lingers in the blood, curls into the bone. You can feel it even when you can’t feel anything else. But for the first time in days—weeks, maybe—I’m not suffocating in it.I lie still on the cold dungeon floor, chains slack around my wrists. My head’s heavy against the stone. But something’s shifted. Not in my body. In my mind.It’s clearer now.Like someone’s scrubbed the grime off the inside of my skull. Like I can finally think without dragging my brain through fog and fire.Her magic did that.Winter.She knelt beside me yesterday. Whispered words like incantations, soft and sharp, and placed her glowing hand over the wound in my side. She pulled the wolfsbane out like it offended her.And when she looked at me…Gods.When she looked at me, I almost forgot w

The clank of the cell door echoed different this time. Not final. Not cruel. Almost… indifferent.I didn’t lift my head when the footsteps stopped in front of me. I’d learned not to. They came with kicks, or questions, or trays I couldn’t reach. But this time, there was no boot. No barked demand. Just the soft clatter of keys, and a low grunt.“Stand, rogue.”I opened one eye. A young guard, twitchy, clearly not thrilled to be here, was fumbling with the chain at my ankle. He wouldn’t look me in the eye.“We’re moving you,” he muttered. “Orders from the Alpha.”I snorted. “Mercy or strategy?”He didn’t answer.But when the chain was loosened and I stood, I realized my legs didn’t buckle the way I expected. Weak, yes. But not broken. Not today.They walked me—flanked, still shackled—down a long corridor that didn’t stink of damp and blood. The air grew less sour. I could smell pine somewhere, and firewood. Even herbs. And something else, too faint to name but too specific to ignore.Ma