บททั้งหมดของ Her Second Chance Mate: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

When Holly placed her hand over mine, I felt the tension in my shoulders ease just a fraction. It wasn’t much, but even the smallest reprieve felt like a lifeline. My grip on the coffee mug loosened, but I didn’t let go. I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t allowed myself to process it yet. Claire was back, not as some long-lost parent seeking redemption but as a threat armed with wolfsbane-tipped rounds and a dagger. She hadn’t come here for him. She hadn’t even come here for me. Her target had been Holly. And that infuriated me as much as it terrified me. I forced myself to breathe through it, focusing on the warmth of Holly’s hand against mine. I wanted to keep holding on, but the sound of the transport unit’s doors slamming shut outside yanked me back to the moment. Claire was secured for now. Logan and Aurelia were speaking in hushed tones near the front door. Their patrol unit was moving with practiced efficiency as they checked windows and reinforced security. The weight of the situation

I woke to the scent of coconut and jasmine, Holly’s shampoo, but the tranquility I felt was deceptive. Claire had ransacked my home, and things could have been worse if not for Mary. I tried to clear the tightness in my chest. Holding Holly last night had steadied me; she was mine, regardless of our circumstances. But as morning arrived, so did the reality we had to face. There would be no lazy day on the farm. After feeding the animals, we headed to Bloodmoon. Upon arrival, the tension was palpable; the packhouse felt like a fortress bracing for an attack. With more people on alert than usual, it was clear Aurelia and Logan were preparing for a fight. I was grateful they would stand for me despite me not being a werewolf or an official member. Tristan walked a step ahead of us. His shoulders squared in that way that reminded me too much of myself. He hadn’t spoken much since we left the farm, but I knew he was sorting through everything, just like I was. I only hoped spending time

The air grew colder as we descended deeper into Bloodmoon’s underground holding cells. Lined with reinforced silver bars and spelled wards, the walls hummed with latent energy. Even without being a wolf, I could feel it—a warning and a deterrent wrapped into one. Logan walked ahead, his frame compact but powerful, moving with the ease of someone bred for battle. His scruffy beard twitched as his jaw clenched. He wasn’t looking forward to this any more than I was. At the base of the stairs, Logan approached the high-tech security panel. A retina scanner flickered to life, scanning his eye before granting access with a soft beep. Only those approved could enter, ensuring no prisoner could escape, no matter their abilities. The heavy steel door unlocked with a resonant clank. The scent of cold stone and damp air washed over me as it swung open. Inside, dim, magical lighting cast eerie shadows along the corridor. The cells, reinforced with a combination of technology and hunter tricks,

We all headed inside—eager to be out of the late summer heat and potential prying eyes. Sure, the house was set far back, but if the hunters had set up Davis and Loretta’s deaths, they knew about the farm. Someone could, and likely are, be watching the property from a distance as we speak. Not creepy at all. I'll be so much happier and less on edge when Benton and his entire operation are put down like the rabid fucktards they are. Everyone moved toward the living room, settling into the comfortable seating around the fireplace. Holly sat beside Samuel on the sofa while Tristan took the seat on the arm of the armchair I occupied. Isis and Khalid remained standing, their sharp gazes taking in every detail of the space before finally settling on Holly and me. We’d all moved inside to discuss what John and Sarael’s team had done on the property. “We used a combination of old-world hunter tricks and some modern magic,” Sarael began, folding her arms as she leaned against the back of a c

Back in the main house, I trailed behind Holly down the narrow hallway, curiosity bubbling within me as we approached the door to Nigel’s childhood bedroom. When she gently pushed the door open, I couldn’t help but grin at the sight that greeted us. Samuel and Tristan had turned the middle of the room into an elaborate fortress. Chairs leaned together in a haphazard yet skillfully constructed manner, while brightly colored blankets and plush pillows were tossed atop one another, creating a chaotic but surprisingly sturdy structure. It looked like a hideout perfect for a childhood adventure. “Camping,” Tristan declared proudly, peeking from a small gap in the fabric fortress. “But, you know, inside.” Samuel, his brow furrowed in earnestness, nodded seriously in agreement. “Just in case someone tries to break in. This way, they won’t see us right away.” His tone was sober, a stark contrast to the joyful atmosphere that should defin children playing. As I absorbed their words, a lu