Todos os capítulos de Falling for Her Ruthless Captor : Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 50

Aria's POVI was gradually losing it.Xavier wanted to start another war. Another bloody, soul-staining war between Alpha Tristan's pack and his rogue family. And this time, it wasn’t about survival—it was about revenge.I stood at the window, arms folded tightly across my chest as the morning sun bled over the horizon like a wounded soldier. The sky was soft pink and orange, gentle and mocking. Too peaceful for the storm brewing inside me.It had been more than twenty-four hours since we left the healer’s quarters. Asher was recovering. Xavier was… spiraling. And I? I was trapped in a castle made of battles I didn’t choose, with a man I loved who was determined to burn down everything.A warm touch grazed my shoulder.I didn’t flinch. I didn’t move. I just kept staring."What’s the problem, mate?" Xavier’s voice was low, coaxing. His palm slid down my waist, grounding and dangerous.I shrugged. A small, half-hearted shrug that said everything and nothing.He tilted his head to the si

Aria’s POVThe moon was a cold witness, silver and sharp, as I slipped out of Xavier’s bed. The dark room wrapped around me like a shroud, but my skin prickled with every sound—the wind sighing through the trees, the distant call of a lone owl, the heavy breath of the pack deep in sleep. I moved quietly, careful not to wake the storm sleeping beside me.The walls of the room felt suffocating—the rage, the tension, the suffocating weight of a war I wasn’t ready to fight. My heart hammered, not from fear of the night, but from the fight that still raged inside me.I slipped on my boots by the door, pulling my cloak tight around me. The cold night air kissed my face as I slipped out of the castle, moving swiftly, silently, through the woods. The branches clawed at my cloak, but I didn’t care. I just needed space. I needed to breathe. To think. To figure out how to survive the war before it destroyed us all.Then, suddenly—A shadow detached itself from the trees.Xavier.His voice was lo

Aria POVI gasped, clutching my throat as a fit of coughing ripped through me. The air had been stolen away—Tristan’s grip like iron around my neck—and now my lungs screamed for release. My chest heaved, my breath ragged and uneven, the taste of metal sharp on my tongue. My eyes burned with tears, not just from the choke, but from the humiliation. I forced myself to steady, pulling in shaky breaths until the coughing slowed to a stubborn wheeze.Tristan didn’t move. Instead, he stalked over to the table near the far wall, his heavy boots clicking on the wooden floor. I watched him with a mix of fury and disbelief as he grabbed a cigarette from a crumpled pack, casually lit it, and settled onto the edge of the table with the ease of a man who owned everything—every second, every inch of this room, and apparently, every ounce of my dignity.I didn’t waste time on hesitation. The fire that had been building inside me snapped, and I pushed myself up from the mattress, every muscle tight w

Aria POVMy fingers trembled as I pulled the oversized shirt over my damp skin, sticking to my ribs like second skin. The hallway was cold—colder than it should’ve been. But maybe that was just me. Maybe the warmth in me had died the moment Tristan touched me in that shower like I was still his.I was done being a ghost in someone else’s cage.I padded barefoot down the corridor, every step a rebellion. The walls, the floors, the very air of this place—it all reeked of him. I used to think this packhouse was home. Now I knew better. Home wasn’t built of stone and luxury.It was built of safety. Of freedom.Of people who’d bleed for you, not cage you.And I was going back to mine.A guard turned the corner. Marcus. He froze the moment he saw me—eyes widening, then dropping to the bruises peeking beneath my shirt collar. His mouth opened, but no words came.“Move,” I said, voice flat.He didn’t. Poor bastard still thought Tristan’s orders mattered more than conscience. My fist clenched

Aria povWe didn’t stop running until the trees swallowed us whole.Branches clawed at my face. Mud slicked under my boots. Every breath tasted like smoke and copper and adrenaline. I couldn’t tell where my pain ended and Xavier’s began—I had his arm over my shoulder, his weight half on me, half dragging behind. He wouldn’t say it, but he was hurting worse than he let on.“Don’t you dare pass out on me,” I growled at him between gasps. “I swear to god, Xavier, I will drag your half-dead ass through these woods myself.”He gave a broken chuckle. “That’s... romantic.”“You bleeding all over me is not my idea of romance,” I snapped, trying to keep my voice steady. “But I’ll take what I can get.”Behind us, the forest lit up orange again. Another explosion. More sirens. The sound chased us like ghosts. The documents in Asher’s bag were the only reason we were still breathing—no way they’d risk destroying those. Not yet.“Clear this way!” Quinn shouted from ahead, waving us through a narro