Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Lycan Prince's Blood : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

Felicia's poor health continues to worsen, she’s sprawled on a thin blanket, with an inconsistent rising and falling of the chest. Each breath sounds like it has a countdown, like an old tick-tock clock that Nana isn't able to ignore.The soft knock at the door nearly causes her to jump out of her skin. She's panting at the door since her heart is beating so loudly, she knows it would give them away."Who is it?" she whispers, voice wobbling."Open up," comes the low reply.Sighing in relief, she unlocks and pulls open the door wide enough to allow the healer in. Fast entry into the house is made by the woman; the hood of her cloak causes her face to be shaded. There is no time wasted in saying hello; her sharp eyes scan the room and rest at Felicia..“Let me see her,” the healer says, her tone brisk.Nana steps aside, allowing the healer to approach the bed. She pulls back the blanket, her expression hardening as she takes in the bruises and shallow cuts that litter Felicia’s body.“

A rogue is brought into the hall covered in blood and bruises with his head bowed but not broken spirit. Marco leans against the opposite wall of the room, and his arms are folded, and a quiet anger shows in his eyes. His warriors surround him; all looking anxious and anticipating a flurry of anger. “Get his ass up,” Marco growls. His voice is low, guttural, and sends a chill through everyone present. Two warriors yank the rogue to his feet, his legs wobbling beneath him. The rogue spits blood onto the floor and flashes Marco a cocky grin. “Alpha Marco,” he sneers, his tone mocking. “Didn’t think you’d stoop to interrogating rogues yourself. Must be desperate.” Marco takes slow, deliberate steps toward him, each one echoing in the silence. “You’re real fucking brave for a dead man,” he says, his voice like ice. He stops just inches from the rogue, tilting his head as if studying him. “But I’m not in the mood for games. Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll make your last mome

“Hello ma’am,” Nana mutters, entering the healer’s chambers, carrying a tray of herbs. Her palms are cold, she is panting. She realized she had been tired for some days now; the previous night was even worse. Her sheets were wet with sweat, and there’s an odd sensation that was tingling in her lower belly which made her restless all night.“Are you sick?” the healer asks, her sharp eyes narrowing at Nana as she places the tray on the wooden table.“No,” Nana mutters, trying to sound convincing, though her voice lacks any strength. She feels weak, her legs wobbling as she stands.The healer clicks her tongue and walks closer, her gray hair tied back into a bun that doesn’t soften her stern demeanor. “You look like hell,” she says bluntly. “Pale as a corpse and shaking like a leaf. Sit down before you collapse.”Nana hesitates but obeys, dropping into the wooden chair by the fireplace. The warmth from the embers does little to ease the strange chill running through her body.“Are you ea

“The Alpha has requested for you” A maid says to Nana which made her stiff, it’s been long Marco called her in because Melissa has been around all this time. The hallway leading to Marco’s room feels endless. Nana grips the edges of her scarf tightly, her palms slick with sweat. The mark Lowell left on her neck burns beneath the fabric, as if mocking her attempts to keep it hidden. The faint scent of her heat clings to her despite the layers of perfume she’s doused herself in. It’s not working. Nothing seems to work anymore. She pauses at the door, heart pounding. Marco’s deep voice cuts through the heavy silence. “Come in already. I don’t have all night.” Her stomach twists. Squaring her shoulders, she pushes the door open and steps inside. Marco stands by the window, his back to her, the sharp lines of his shoulders and back visible through his shirt. The air feels heavier around him, a presence that demands attention without effort. “You wanted to see me?” Her voice is stead

Lowell’s footsteps crunch against the dry leaves, every sound amplified by the oppressive silence of the woods. He moves carefully, his ears straining for any hint of pursuit. Marco’s men aren’t far—he can hear the faint voices and the occasional bark of orders. He doesn’t dare stop.Nana’s last words echo in his head like a haunting melody: “Run, Lowell. Don’t look back. Find peace.”Peace? He thinks bitterly. There’s no peace for a man like him. Not now, not when everything feels so fucking wrong, well he’s life has been a mess since the betrayal of his uncle.The clothes Nana gave him scratch against his skin. They don’t fit right—too loose in some places, too tight in others—but he’s grateful for them. They’re the only thing keeping him from being recognized outright. His Lycan form would give him away in a heartbeat, and even in his human form, Marco and Stephen know his face. He tugs the hood lower over his eyes, cursing under his breath.“Damn it, Nana,” he mutters. “Why’d you