All Chapters of Fated Vengeance: A Mate's Reckoning : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The aftermath was a haze of exhaustion and adrenaline, the kind that leaves your bones heavy but your mind buzzing. The Bloodfangs’ camp was a wreck—tents torn, fires smoldering, bodies scattered across the clearing. The air stank of blood and smoke, sharp and acrid, clinging to my clothes. I wiped my blade on my pant leg, the motion automatic, my hands still shaky from the fight. My lip throbbed where Ragnar had hit me, and every breath stung, but I was alive. We all were.Lucian stood a few feet away, barking orders to the trackers—secure the perimeter, check for survivors, gather anything useful. His voice was steady, but I caught the tension in his shoulders, the way his fists clenched when he thought no one was looking. He’d killed Ragnar, ended the immediate threat, but I could tell it wasn’t over for him. Not yet.Killian slumped against a tree nearby, wrapping a strip of torn fabric around the gash on his arm. He caught my eye and flashed a tired grin. “You look like you could

The decision hung in the air like smoke after a fire—lingering, heavy, impossible to ignore. I’d said it, and Lucian had accepted it, but as I left his study, my stomach churned with a mix of resolve and dread. Together. It sounded solid, final, but it didn’t erase the questions clawing at me. What did this mean for us—for me? I’d spent so long fighting the pull of him, the pack, this life. Now I was stepping into it, eyes open, and it felt like jumping off a cliff without knowing how deep the drop was.The next morning, the compound buzzed with a different energy. Word had spread—whispers turning into murmurs, then full-on conversations. The ceremony was on, set for tomorrow night under the full moon. I caught the glances as I walked through the hall—some wary, some relieved, a few even warm. It was strange, being seen like this, not as the outsider or the fighter, but as something more. Lucian’s mate. The title still sat uneasy on my shoulders, like a coat that didn’t quite fit.I f

The clearing was a graveyard of chaos—torches guttering out, bodies strewn across the blood-soaked ground, the air thick with the metallic tang of death. My side burned where claws had torn through, each breath a sharp reminder of how close I’d come to not making it. Lucian’s arm stayed around me, steadying me as we staggered toward the hall, the pack trailing behind in a ragged, weary line. The bond between us pulsed, raw and insistent, grounding me even as my vision blurred at the edges.Killian limped ahead, barking orders to the trackers—secure the perimeter, check for stragglers. His voice was hoarse but firm, like he was holding himself together through sheer stubbornness. I knew the feeling. The adrenaline was gone, leaving only pain and a nagging sense that this wasn’t over, no matter how dead Veyra was.Inside the hall, the warmth hit like a slap, the fire roaring in the hearth. Pack members who hadn’t fought crowded in, their faces pale, questions tumbling out. Lucian raised

The hall was a hive of tension, the air thick with the scent of blood and antiseptic as healers darted between the wounded. My arm burned under the makeshift bandage, my side a constant throb, but I barely noticed. My eyes were glued to the pendant on the table, its spiraling symbols seeming to writhe in the firelight, whispering secrets we couldn’t yet decode. Lucian sat beside me, his shoulder pressed against mine, his silence heavier than the chaos around us. The bond pulsed—urgent, restless—like it knew something we didn’t.Killian paced nearby, his staff tapping the floor, his face a mask of frustration. “We’re sitting ducks,” he muttered, glancing at the pendant. “That thing’s a beacon, and we’re just… what? Waiting for the next monster to knock?”Lucian’s jaw tightened, but before he could answer, a scout burst through the doors, his face ashen, blood streaking his cheek. “Alpha!” he gasped, stumbling forward. “It’s here—another one. Bigger.”My heart stopped. The room went sil

The dagger lay on the table in Lucian’s study, its etched symbols mocking us in the dim firelight. My wounds ached—leg stitched, arm bandaged—but the pain was a distant hum compared to the dread curling in my chest. That figure, its voice, the void-like arch—it wasn’t just a threat. It was a doorway, a glimpse into something far bigger than Bloodfangs or pack wars. The bond with Lucian thrummed, restless, urging action, but we had no map, no answers, only this cursed blade and a ticking clock.Lucian stood across from me, his hands braced on the table, his silver eyes fixed on the dagger like he could will it to speak. Killian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his bruises stark under the flickering light. The pack was on edge outside, their murmurs filtering through the walls—fear, defiance, confusion. We’d survived the night, but at what cost?“We can’t stay here,” I said, breaking the silence. My voice was hoarse, but it carried. “Whoever—whatever—that was, they know where we a