Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 61 - Chapitre 70

First Person’s PerspectiveElenaThe grand hall was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made my skin itch. I sat at the piano, staring at the black and white keys like they might bite me. I didn’t know how to play—not really. But I pressed a key anyway. A sharp note rang out, too loud in the empty room. I pressed another. And another. No rhythm, no song. Just noise. *This is stupid.* But I didn’t stop. Maybe if I kept pressing keys, I’d forget about everything else—about Percy’s cold stares, about the whispers in the pack, about the fact that I didn’t belong here. Then the door creaked open. I flinched, my hands freezing over the keys. A maid stood there, her eyes wide like she hadn’t expected to find me here. “I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” I shook my head. “You didn’t.” She hesitated, then took a step forward. “Do you… want to learn?” I blinked. “What?” “The piano,” she said softly. “I can teach you. Just a little.” I should’ve said

First Person’s PerspectiveElenaAll the heat in my body rushed to my face. I froze. His eyes—those deep, sharp eyes—were locked on me.He was lying back on the bed, one arm propped beneath his head like he was the king of this world, the other resting casually on his stomach. And he wasn’t even trying to hide that he was staring. No. He looked at me with full, unfiltered attention. Like I was the only thing in this room worth seeing. Like I was the prize he’d been waiting for.I wrapped my arms around my torso as if that could conceal the thin silk nightgown clinging to my skin. It was soft, ivory, and barely reached my thighs. I had picked it because it was comfortable… not because I expected him to see me in it. Certainly not like this.“So…” His voice was low, smooth, like velvet brushing across bare skin. “This is what you’ve been hiding beneath all those baggy clothes?”I swallowed hard. My throat was so dry, it hurt. My chest was rising and falling too fast. I didn’t know what

First Person’s PerspectiveElenaThe sun was already high, but the air inside the great hall felt heavy…like a thunderstorm was building behind the stone walls. The golden banners fluttered slightly from the open balconies above, but even the breeze couldn’t cut through the tension lacing the room. The atmosphere was brittle, and the slightest wrong move could shatter the fragile peace.I was standing near the food table, pretending to inspect a tray of fruit I had no intention of eating, when a commotion at the far end of the corridor pulled my attention. My eyes caught movement near the eastern archway—and my stomach twisted.Ron.He was crawling out like some mangled beast, his body hunched, one hand clutching his side, the other dragging against the polished floor. His shirt was torn, soaked with blood around the collar and sleeve, and his face—gods, his face looked like it had been through a meat grinder. Swollen lip. Split brow. Dried blood streaked across his cheek like war pai

First Person PerspectiveAlpha SalvatoreThe moment Elena’s breathing slowed into a soft rhythm, I rose from the bed.I had learned to do this silently over time, slipping out from beneath the sheets without disturbing her, gently steadying her pillow so it didn’t collapse and wake her. One final glance at her peaceful face held me rooted in place for a heartbeat longer than I intended.Gods, she looked so soft when she slept. So untouched by the darkness I carried.Her lashes fluttered lightly with every breath. Her lips, parted just slightly, murmured my name in sleep.It should’ve comforted me.It didn’t.It made everything worse.Because she had no idea who she was lying beside. What kind of creature wore my skin by daylight and shed it at nightfall.Every night, it was the same.Every night, I ran to the woods not to feel the freedom of the wild wind brushing through my fur, not to hear the whispers of the moon in the language only wolves knew.No. I ran because I had to.Because

Elena’s POV When I opened my eyes, I wished I hadn’t.Yesterday’s memory hit me like a stone to the chest—Salvatore’s hand around his mother’s throat, the wild fury in his eyes, her face pale and twisted in shock, the way her lips gasped for air. My screams still echoed in my ears. I pressed a trembling hand to my stomach, which twisted with guilt, fear, and something colder—dread.I had never seen him like that before. Not even close. There was always a storm in Salvatore, but yesterday, it had broken free.And I couldn’t shake the image from my mind.I sat up slowly, my muscles aching with tension. The bed felt colder than usual, empty of the warmth I once found in it. The soft light that filtered through the tall windows painted the room gold, but it couldn’t warm the leaden feeling inside me. I ran a hand over the sheets beside me. Cold. He hadn’t come to bed.Of course, he hadn’t.I swung my legs over the edge and stood up, a l