All Chapters of Tethered To Fate : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Chapter 71: What Was Always Ours (Nayla’s POV) When his towel hit the floor, I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t. The weight of what I’d lost still throbbed beneath my skin, but it was nothing compared to what I felt when Dominic touched me—what I felt now as he looked at me like I was both the beginning and the end. He hovered above me for a moment, his breath shallow, his eyes searching mine. “You sure?” he asked. I nodded. “Yes.” He leaned in slowly, kissing me again—deeper this time, more certain, like something inside him had snapped free. His lips were warm and slightly rough, grazing mine like he needed to relearn every part of me. He kissed like he worshipped. Like he was giving me space to fall apart safely. His hands slid down my body with reverence, like I was fragile and powerful all at once. When his fingers lifted my shirt, he didn’t just pull it over my head—he peeled it away like it was something sacred. He kissed the space just beneath my collarbone, then

Chapter 73: Trial of Intent (Dominic’s POV) The Council chamber was carved from graystone and reinforced with centuries of silence. Everything echoed in here—every step, every breath, every word—like the room itself was judging you before the Council ever did. I stood at the center, the official scroll bearing Jaime’s charges clutched in my left hand. To my right, Sloan sat quietly, sharp-eyed and still. Across from us, the five high seats of the Council watched in measured silence. Elder Vaughn spoke first. “Alpha Dominic Crescent. You requested this session to present evidence against Jaime Calder, accused of an unprovoked physical and magical attack on a member of your House. State your case.” I nodded, stepping forward. “Three weeks ago, Nayla Emryn was slipped a potion during a social outing. It was intended to sever her control over her wolf and incite a public, violent outburst. She collapsed within minutes.” Councilwoman Merra narrowed her eyes. “And how are you

Chapter 75: The Unbroken Thread (Nayla’s POV) The room was ancient. Older than anything I’d ever stepped into. Circular. Quiet. Lit with hovering orbs of soft light. The stone floor beneath my bare feet felt warm—not from the sun, but from the hum of contained magic. The Council sat in their high seats, robed and silent. A high witch stood to the side with a ceremonial bowl, her eyes glowing faintly as she began the incantation. Dominic stood across from me, his shirt gone, his chest bare and steady. My heart was racing, but my soul was calm. Because this wasn’t a performance. It was the truth. The witch approached, lifting a small ceremonial blade. I extended my arm without hesitation. She made the cut—clean, quick. Dominic offered his next, and the blood from both of us was caught in the bowl and mixed over a rune-carved stone. She began to chant, pouring the contents over the sigil. And everything shifted. The air thickened. The lights dimmed. The magic in the room tig

Chapter 77: Something You Left Behind (Jaime’s POV) She shouldn’t have come here. Every step toward Jacob’s territory tasted like regret—but it didn’t stop her. Her hair was a tangled mess. Her ribs still ached from shifting in the café fight. And her wolf—wounded and distant—was only just starting to stir again, like a sleeping thing waking too early. It wasn’t strength yet. It was hopeful instinct, patching itself together after everything she’d done. But she had made it out of Council custody with something more dangerous than her claws. Information. And she was going to use it. She waited at the edge of the Beta’s estate, deep in the forest, until the first patrol wolf approached. She raised her hands. “I need to see Jacob,” she said. “Tell him it’s Jaime. And it’s urgent.” Minutes passed. Then the heavy gate creaked open. Jacob stood on the porch, arms folded, mouth twisted in something between a smirk and a grimace. His gray eyes dragged over her—bruises, blood, madn

Chapter 79: What Was Left Behind (Nayla’s POV) The ancient district felt like another world. The streets were narrow, lined with cobblestone and overgrown ivy. The buildings were old, leaning into one another like they were whispering secrets only time could understand. Magic shimmered here, not the showy kind, but the quiet, unsettling kind that made the hair on your arms rise. Dominic walked close beside me, one hand brushing mine as we approached the small, weather-worn building tucked between two merchant towers. The door was wood, carved with sigils so old I couldn’t name them. He knocked twice. Then once more. A latch clicked. The door opened a sliver, and a single golden eye peered through the gap. “I’m looking for the Keeper,” Dominic said. “No appointments,” the voice said flatly. “I’m not here for records,” I said, stepping forward. “I’m here for truth.” Silence. Then the door opened fully. The Keeper was taller than I expected. Thin. Pale. Ageless. His robes