บททั้งหมดของ Wild Nights With My Lycan Step-brother : บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Ember's POV After bleeding on the altar, I didn't wake up, dumped in my dungeon as usual, no. I woke up to my knees scraping on rough marble floors, they dragged my limp, almost unconscious, broken body through the Hallway, Magnus's rune and Zane's name carved deep into my flesh. It still stung with a burning pain that made my breath hitch. I didn't cry, neither did I scream. The tears left in my eyes had already dried up when Zane cracked the last whip in my skin, etching his mark into my laps. I should have been numb to all pains and emotions towards Zane. But unfortunately, I couldn't. Not when his name still burned more than I was tortured. With each step I took, the chains clattered against each other, my arms bound together in front of me this time around, the golden shackles glowing with faint magic against my bruised, bleeding wrists. Behind me, I heard as the guards sneered and laughed mockingly, nudging me forward to walk faster as they spoke lowly about me. I said no

Ember's POV They didn’t let me walk.They dragged me.Chains wrapped around my ankles, biting into bone. My arms hung behind me, wrists pulled taut by the silver shackles that burned like they were dipped in molten fire. My hair clung to my face in blood-matted ropes, and the thin white gown they’d forced over my body was already turning crimson from the reopened wounds along my back.The ceremonial yard was already alive when they pulled me through the doors—alive like a fucking fever dream.Torches lit the altar, hundreds of them, flames licking toward the sky in a jagged halo of heat. The Moon Fang pack was gathered in full, faces painted with runes, blood smeared across mouths and chests like war banners. They howled when they saw me. Growled. Chanting already, their voices thundered like drums from hell:“Purge the weakness. Burn the curse. Spill the Omega.”The sound rattled in my skull, relentless. I bit down on my tongue just to focus, just to not scream.I stumbled forward,

Ember's POV I could hardly sleep, not when the cold marble beneath me felt more harder than how it used to be. As I moved, my bones ached, my skin bruising. My muscles felt so stiff, the open bruises on my skin itching. My mind raced back to yesterday, back in Zane's room in my desguise as Ash. “You look familiar” I remembered him saying. At least, he didn't threaten me, just stared at me like he remembered something. That was progress.Small. Fragile. But real.I rolled onto my side, keeping my back toward the dungeon door in case someone came too early. My fingers slid under the moss, reached into the hollow space I’d carved the first night. My stolen armor was still there. My wrapped blade. The herbs for scent masking. The rune stone I’d bled over. Everything untouched.I had to move. Before someone else did first.I wrapped my palm in cloth, swallowed down the stiffness in my muscles, and dragged myself toward the tunnel. My body protested, my legs shaking as I crawled. I di

Ember's POV I woke to the scent of salted meat.For a second, I thought I was dreaming. My body didn’t hurt as much, the cold didn’t bite as deep, and something warm was pressed against my side. Then I blinked, and the warmth was gone. Reality came flooding back like a cracked dam.I was still in the dungeon.Still in the filth and chains.Still on the floor.But the bowl beside me wasn’t a trick of the light.It was real.And it wasn’t the usual rot and sour crust the guards dropped in to remind us what vermin deserved.It was meat.Moonroot bread.Even a fucking sliver of smoked fruit.I sat up slowly, my ribs aching like cracked glass under my skin, and stared at it.No maggots. No mold. No sour.Just food.Real food.Someone messed up.But I knew they hadn’t.He’d been here.I didn’t remember seeing him. Didn’t hear a sound. But I felt him now, like a scent left behind in the air. Like something warm lingering against my skin even though nothing touched me.Zane had stood there.

Ember's POV His words haunted me long after I left the training hall."You fight like someone with nothing to lose."He wasn’t wrong.I stepped into the courtyard, ribs throbbing with every breath. The training tunic stuck to my back, blood crusting beneath the fabric where Zane’s blade had kissed skin. It wasn’t a cut meant to teach a lesson. It was meant to draw blood. Whether he knew it or not.The night air scraped over my skin as I limped toward the stables, where the scent of hay and horses dulled the sting of shame. I hated the way my hands trembled. Not from pain. From him.From what I let him do to me.From what I still wanted.Zane had been distant for weeks. Harder. Colder. But tonight, his gaze didn’t burn—it searched. Not for Ash. For something deeper. A memory. A crack in the illusion.I gritted my teeth and shoved the stable door open.And froze.He was already there.Sitting on a bale of hay, sweat-slicked chest bare, shirt half-off, legs spread. A dagger twirled betw