All Chapters of Broken Bonds: Beyond Destiny: Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

Bright The afternoon dragged on slowly as I watched the sway of the backyard leaves through the kitchen window. The air smelled of damp wood and of a storm that never quite arrived. The memory of Sophia’s call with Dante pounded in my head like a relentless drum. It wasn’t just the conversation: it was the way she had done it, so calm, so… close. I didn’t need to hear every word to know she had smiled while talking to him. There had been gratitude in her voice when she told me about the call to thank him, as if it were the most natural thing. It burned me. It hurt in my chest, in my throat. It hurt more than the wounds the hunters had left on me. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the knot of jealousy running through me. It wasn’t only Dante. It was the thought of Sophia —my Sophia— sharing a moment of intimacy, however small, with that man. And the worst part was that she was right to want to thank him. He had saved my life. Without him, I might not even be here, thinking about

Bright The night was thick and humid, with a low mist curling between the trees as if trying to hide every movement. I followed behind James, the crunch of dry leaves under our boots the only constant sound. The flashlights we carried barely pierced the darkness; their trembling light seemed swallowed by the shadows of the pines. This night’s patrol was different: we were all tense, alert to any sign of the hunters who had dared to enter our territory days before. The air smelled of wet earth and danger. The murmurs of the pack mingled with the distant hoot of an owl. I kept my senses at their peak, every step measured, every glance calculated. I wouldn’t allow anyone near Sophia again, not after the attack. James signaled for us to spread out. We formed small groups to cover more ground. I moved ahead alone, letting the darkness envelop me. The silence here was almost absolute, broken only by the insistent beat of my heart. Then something metallic glinted faintly beneath a falle

Sophia The morning light slipped softly through the curtains, a pale glow that barely illuminated the room. I woke with my body heavy, the ache of the bruise throbbing at my side as a constant reminder that I needed to stay in bed. The silence felt thick, almost uncomfortable. Beside me, Bright was getting dressed in silence, every movement deliberate, without the gentle humming that usually filled our mornings. “Are you meeting with James?” I asked, my voice still drowsy. “Yes,” he replied without looking at me. “Just for a moment.” His tone was flat, missing its usual warmth. I watched as he put on his jacket, noticing the stiffness in his shoulders, the way he avoided my eyes. Something about him had felt different since he returned from the last patrol in the woods. Before, even when he was tired, he would reach for my hand, kiss my forehead, ask how I’d slept. Now, his distance was almost physical, as if an invisible wall had risen between us. I spent most of the morning in

Bright The soft sound of a knock on the door made me open my eyes. I wasn’t asleep, just lying on my left side, trying to find a position that eased the pressure from the hematoma. “Sophia, may I come in?” James’s voice was calm, almost a whisper. “Yes, of course,” I answered, adjusting the pillow behind my back. The door opened slowly and James appeared with his usual expression: serene, attentive, carrying that presence that always brought a sense of peace. He approached quietly and sat in the chair beside the bed, leaning toward me. “How are you?” he asked, lowering his voice as if afraid of waking someone else in the house. “Fine, I think,” I replied, though I knew I didn’t sound convincing. His eyes settled on my belly, already gently rounded. “And the hematoma?” I sighed, unable to hide a grimace. “Still the same. Mom says I need to move less, but I hate having to make so little effort. I feel… useless.” James frowned with a mix of affection and firmness. “Don’t say

Bright The darkness was thick, almost liquid. The forest stretched before me, branches cracking like breaking bones. I ran, but my feet seemed to sink into invisible mud. Something in my chest screamed that I was too late. The air smelled of smoke and fear. “Sophia!” My voice broke into a shout that found no echo. A flash between the trees drew me toward a small light that pulsed like a heartbeat. When I reached it, the world turned unreal: the moon bathed a silent clearing. And there she was, on her knees, her hair tangled across her face. Her skin had the color of ash. “Sophia…” I knelt in front of her. The ground was ice-cold, the dampness seeping through me. Then I saw him: a figure behind her. Dante. His gaze, once pretending to be that of an ally, was now a well of shadow. He carried no weapon, yet his mere presence struck like a blow. “I told you you couldn’t protect her.” his voice sounded distant, distorted, as if coming through a tunnel. “Don’t touch her!” I lunged a