บททั้งหมดของ My Stepbrother, My Mate: บทที่ 121 - บทที่ 130

Xavier***The storm raged outside, but inside the small, dimly lit room, the silence was suffocating. Every word Diego had spoken seemed to echo in my mind like a drumbeat, drowning out everything else. The pages of the journal lay before me, mocking me with their emptiness. My mind raced. Who could have erased the journal? Why? And, most importantly—what did it mean for Henry?Diego pulled me out of my thoughts with a sharp tug on my arm, his face a mask of grim determination. "Come on," he urged, his voice thick with fear. "We have to get to him before it’s too late."I looked at him, the weight of our past hanging between us. The same man who had been the architect of my pain was now the one asking for my help. My emotions were a tangled mess—anger, betrayal, guilt—but I shoved them aside. I couldn’t afford to be distracted. Henry needed me. The Darkmoon pack needed me.We rushed out of the room and down the narrow hallway, the storm’s fury intensifying outside. As we moved, I coul

Xavier****The silence that followed her departure was deafening. The room seemed to exhale, the tension dissipating like smoke in the air. My wolf form shimmered, the shadows clinging to me like a second skin before retreating into nothingness. I stood there, breathing heavily, the weight of her words pressing down on me.Dean remained where he was—a broken figure slumped on the floor. His wolves had scattered, their presence now nothing more than distant echoes in the storm. For the first time, he looked small, mortal—a far cry from the ruthless predator who had tormented me for years."You think this is victory?" His voice was hoarse, his lips curling into a bitter sneer. "You’ve only delayed the inevitable, Xavier. The Dark Moon isn’t a curse you can break. It’s a prison, and you’re still trapped inside."I didn’t respond. His words held no power over me now, not after what I had just witnessed. Instead, I turned and walked past him, my steps steady despite the chaos swirling in m

Xavier****A week had passed since that day, yet the weight of everything that had transpired still pressed down on us like a suffocating fog. Henry remained unconscious, his body pale and still. The darkness had retreated, but it left scars deep enough to haunt us all. And I could do nothing but wait and watch, praying for a sign that he would wake up, praying that this nightmare would end.The cage was silent now, save for the occasional drip of water from the far corner. But that silence was a lie—a facade hiding the chaos that raged inside. Dean was there, shackled and bruised, his eyes vacant as he slumped against the cold bars. The light was dim in the corner of the room, but it did nothing to ease the sharp lines of agony on his face.I approached the cage slowly, the sound of my boots against the floor echoing in the stillness. His eyes flickered up at me, but there was no recognition, no defiance—just a hollow emptiness that made my blood run cold. My once-loyal beta, or so I

Xavier****The words hung between us like a death sentence—heavy and unyielding. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a painful reminder of the choice I faced. Diego stood before me, his jaw clenched, eyes burning with determination, but I could see the flicker of pain beneath his resolve. It mirrored my own, twisting in my gut, tightening my throat.Lyra’s gaze flicked between us, her expression unreadable. "One soul," she said softly, her voice almost lost in the deafening rush of blood in my ears. "Only one of you can make the sacrifice."A bitter laugh escaped before I could stop it. "So, we fight over who gets to die?" The absurdity of it all made my head spin. I had spent so long trying to save Henry, and now... now it came down to this.Diego exhaled sharply. "It won’t be you, Xavier." His voice was unwavering, the finality in it leaving no room for argument. "I won't let you."My throat tightened, words threatening to choke me. "You can’t ask me to stand by and watch you do

The room closed in on Xavier, the air thick with a suffocating weight. Shadows clung to the corners, twisting and warping in a dance of mocking whispers, echoing his deepest failures and fears. The journal lay on the table before him, its presence a cold reminder of the sins that had brought him to this point. His fingers hovered over the worn leather, but he could not bear to open it. The vision of the altar—the blood, the hollow, accusing eyes of his mother—replayed in his mind like a tormenting nightmare. He had been born of violence, of rejection, forged in the darkness of his father’s cruel design. And Henry… his mate, his salvation, now stood as nothing more than a pawn in that same twisted game of shadows."You don’t get to say that, Xavier," Diego snapped, his voice raw, full of unspent anger. "You didn’t choose this. You didn’t choose him." His frustration rippled through the space, but beneath the edge of it, Xavier heard something else—something softer, more understanding. "