Semua Bab Sold to the Devil : Bab 121 - Bab 130

The underground chamber where Lenora kept Emilia was lined with old stone, etched with runes that glowed faintly in the candlelight. The air felt heavy, as if it had soaked up centuries of rage and betrayal.Emilia stood by the small window slit high on the wall, barely wide enough to let the morning light seep in. Her arms were crossed, and though her body still ached from the interrupted transformation, her eyes burned with clarity.She hadn’t spoken to Lenora since their last argument two nights ago.Her mother had been patient at first, calmly explaining her version of the past—how she had been betrayed by Emilia’s father and hunted by the very people she once called her kin. She painted Dante’s bloodline as a curse, twisted by loyalty to the wolves who had turned their backs on magic. She’d said all the right words.But Emilia wasn’t a child. And she wasn’t stupid.Now, she stood in silence when Lenora entered the room, flanked by two hooded witches. The three of them radiated po

Celeste sat at the end of the long mahogany table in the east wing, a porcelain teacup untouched in front of her. The scent of rose petals filled the air, but the bitter taste of recent events lingered like ash on her tongue.She’d heard the news within moments of Caelum’s arrival. He was alive. He’d returned. How convenient.“Do you believe it?” Seraphina’s voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp. She paced the length of the room like a caged wolf. Her crimson cloak trailed behind her, brushing the marble floor with every frustrated step.Celeste’s eyes narrowed. “That he’s alive? Yes. That he’s innocent?” She snorted. “Not for a second.”Seraphina turned sharply, eyes gleaming. “Then why is Dante allowing him to stay? Why hasn’t he thrown him into the dungeons?”“Because Dante is desperate,” Celeste said, fingers tracing the rim of her cup. “And desperation blinds even the strongest of men.”Seraphina crossed her arms, fuming. “All of this — the Blood Moon, the witches, the a

The path sloped downward into the Hollow, an ancient network of tunnels buried beneath the Bloodmoon territory. Cold stone pressed in from all sides, the walls etched with forgotten spells and sealed runes. The air was thick, damp with old magic and secrecy.Dante moved swiftly at the front, eyes scanning every shadow. Behind him followed Caelum, his presence silent but watchful. Luka and two other trusted guards flanked them, weapons drawn, senses alert."Still no sign of her scent," Luka muttered, his voice low but strained. "But the wards down here are fresh. Someone's been keeping this place alive."Dante nodded, jaw clenched. His muscles coiled like a spring, the predator in him pacing beneath his skin. Every step down felt like walking into a trap—and yet, they had no choice."We don't stop until we find her," he said, barely above a growl.They turned a corner, entering a wide chamber veined with luminescent moss. The ceiling arched high, almost like a forgotten cathedral, and

Vanessa sat at the kitchen table, scrolling anxiously through her phone. The cramped apartment smelled faintly of stale coffee and old takeout. Mark leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he stared at the flickering light from the cracked window.“It’s been days, Vanessa,” Mark said quietly, breaking the silence. “We still haven’t heard from Alissa. Where the hell is she?”Vanessa slammed her phone down, frustration boiling over. “She’s probably with that witch Emilia. That girl’s trouble — always was. If Alissa’s gone missing, it’s because Emilia dragged her into that mess.”Mark didn’t respond. He never told Vanessa about the supernatural things he knew — the witches, the werewolves — not because he didn’t want to, but because it would only make Vanessa more paranoid, more hostile toward Emilia.“You’re always defending that girl,” Vanessa snapped. “She’s nothing but trouble. If Alissa’s missing, it’s Emilia’s fault. She’s been here long enough to ruin everything.

The silence in the coven was suffocating.Not the silence of peace, but the kind that came after a scream—a silence that echoed, thick and heavy, pressing against her chest. Emilia sat on the edge of her bed in the darkened room they had given her. A gilded cage, beautiful and cold. The stone walls, the velvet drapes, the perfumed air—none of it could mask the truth. She was a prisoner.Not in chains. Not with shackles. But bound just the same—by blood, by prophecy, by the unbearable weight of truths she never asked to carry.Dante’s voice still echoed in her ears, raw with guilt. He had known. Had planned on using her. Known what was expected of her. He had held her close, whispered apologies, but none of them could unmake the betrayal that sat like rot in her stomach.She hadn't eaten. She couldn't sleep. And yet she couldn’t stop shaking.She stared at the ornate mirror across the room, her own reflection unfamiliar. Her eyes were darker now, stormier. Her skin paler. She looked li