Todos os capítulos de The Beast's Bride: surrendering to the beast within : Capítulo 71 - Capítulo 80

(Sofia’s POV – Dreamworld / Final Memory)The snow had stopped falling.But the cold—**the kind that settles beneath the skin, into the soul—**remained.I stood in the great hall alone.No laughter.No footsteps.No fire burning in the hearth.Just the echo of a home that had already made up its mind to forget me.The tapestries that once told the story of our bloodline hung limp and grey. The same colors I’d worn during my rites. The same colors they had wrapped around me like a gift, pretending it was honor—when all it had ever been was a burial cloth.---At dawn, I woke to a whisper.Orin.He stood at the edge of my bed, already dressed in riding leathers. His hair was tousled, eyes dim with something that looked too close to guilt.“They’re leaving,” he said quietly. “Now.”I sat up. “And you?”He didn’t answer right away.“I fought them on it,” he said. “Tried to tell them it wasn’t right. But…” He looked away. “Mother says there’s no time.”There was always time.They just didn

(Damien’s POV – Present Day)The sound came first.A wet, choking gasp.Followed by a gurgle—unnatural and terrifying.My heart stopped.I was in the hallway, reading through a worn scroll when I heard it. At first, I thought I imagined it.But then came the second sound.A soft thud.Like someone struggling.Like someone dying.I ran.The door to the bedroom burst open under my hand.And there she was.Sofia.My Luna.Convulsing.Her body was seizing, her fingers curled tight into the sheets, and her mouth—her mouth was foaming, white and thick, choking her with every breath.“No—no, no—Sofia!”I dropped everything and rushed to the bed, grabbing her shoulders, trying to steady her.Her eyes fluttered open, wide, glassy.Empty.“Sofia—breathe, baby. Just breathe—stay with me!”She didn’t respond.Only gurgled again, thick saliva spilling from her lips. Her back arched violently.“Jaxon!! Ethan!!” I screamed so loud it shook the room. “Get in here now!”The door slammed open.“Goddess

(Damien’s POV – Past Reflections)The night after the ritual, I didn’t sleep.Couldn’t.Even with Sofia stabilized—her heart no longer at war with itself—I didn’t feel peace.Because I had offered another woman my name. My bond.Even if it was a lie.Even if I’d done it for the right reasons.I’d still crossed a line I never believed I would.And I felt it like a wound in my chest.So I sat alone on the balcony of an old, forgotten wing of the estate—far from her. Far from anyone. Just the moon and me.And my memories.The ones I swore I’d buried.But pain has a way of digging up bones, especially when you realize—your curse didn’t start with her.It started with me.With my name.With Blackwood.---My family wasn’t always powerful.We weren’t always rulers, Alphas of vast territories or wolves feared across continents.We were, once, a small bloodline—touched by a gift we didn’t understand.The first Blackwood, Elias, was said to be born with golden eyes that glowed under moonlight.

(Damien’s POV – Three Moons Without Her)Time moved differently without her.Slower.Heavier.Like the minutes were dragging their feet through wet concrete.Three days had passed since the ritual.Since I bound my name to another woman to deceive ancient spirits.Since I whispered goodbye into the ear of the only woman who ever made this cursed blood of mine feel worthy.I still felt her breath on my neck.Still caught her scent in the folds of the sheets.Still expected her to walk barefoot into the kitchen every morning with a sleepy smirk, teasing me about my obsessions.But she didn’t.And she wouldn’t.Not for three moons.And I was starting to forget how to breathe without her.---The penthouse was too quiet.I left it behind after the second day.I couldn’t walk into that room without hearing the machines beeping beside her bed. Without seeing the imprint of her body on the pillow. Without smelling cinnamon and honey on the linens.So I returned to the Blackwood manor—a place

(Damien’s POV – Present Day)The blood on the floor had long since dried. The candles flickered as if they feared what we were about to do.Lyra stood at the center of the chamber barefoot, her cloak discarded, her runes fully exposed across her arms and collarbone. Her breathing was shallow, but her gaze had steadied. Focused.“This is not a spell,” she said, voice low. “It’s a bridge. Once we begin, I won’t control where you go. The memories will pull you toward the piece of her soul that still remembers you.”“And if it doesn’t?” I asked.She looked at me with those storm-gray eyes. “Then you’ll wander her past until your spirit forgets who it was.”I didn’t flinch.“If there’s a part of her that still remembers me,” I murmured, stepping closer, “that’s all I need.”Lyra knelt beside the basin of now-consecrated blood. She whispered an ancient chant, tracing her fingers in precise patterns above the surface. The blood began to glow faintly, pulsing—like it was responding to my hear