Todos os capítulos de Falling for Her Ruthless Captor : Capítulo 71 - Capítulo 79

Aria pov The next morning tasted like smoke and thunder.It sat on my tongue, bitter and sharp, reminding me that peace was a fragile thing—especially for wolves like us. Especially for me.I woke before the sun, the sky still draped in navy and bruises, and slipped away from Xavier’s arms without waking him. He looked almost human when he slept—lips parted, brows smooth, like the gods had taken mercy on him just for a night.But mercy didn’t last long in our world.The camp was quiet when I stepped out of the warded circle. Tents rustled softly in the breeze, the scent of ash still woven into the air like the aftermath of a nightmare we hadn’t fully escaped yet. A few warriors stirred, nodding to me with a mix of respect and awe that made my stomach twist.I wasn’t used to that.To being seen.To being followed.To being Luna.My fingers brushed the edge of the armor I still wore, fingers curling against the worn leather. It was too early to shed it. Too early to be soft.A figure e

Tristan – POVThe silence in the manor was suffocating.Not quiet. Not peace.Just that thick, heavy kind of silence that presses into your chest like a stone. The kind that makes your heartbeat sound louder, like even your blood wants to escape the weight of what’s left behind.My hand slid over the edge of the desk I once ruled from. My throne room burned, my name ash on every wolf’s tongue. Crescent was dust now.And I was nothing.Again.“What did you expect?” I spat to the empty air. “A legacy? A monument? For what?”I wasn’t talking to myself.Not really.My father stood in the doorway like he hadn’t aged a day since he threw me into the deep end of this life and called it leadership. Robes pristine. Posture perfect. That same maddening, unreadable calm stretched across his face like the world hadn't just burned around us.“Tristan,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”Oh, gods. I laughed.“You’re sorry?” I turned to face him, something feral in my throat. “Now you’re sorry?”He steppe

Aria – POVI used to think the war would be the hardest part.That if we could just survive it—if I could survive it—then everything after would feel like peace. Like breath. Like something soft and warm and real. But survival is a strange kind of victory. It comes with ghosts, with scars that don’t always show up on skin.And silence.The kind that stretches deep and wide between two people who love each other too much to speak first.That’s how Xavier looked tonight, as he sat across the fire from me—like a man trying not to fall apart under the weight of everything he couldn’t say.But he stayed.Gods, he stayed.And it should’ve been enough. Should’ve made my heart settle instead of thudding like a war drum every time he looked away, every time the flames threw shadows across his face and I saw the crown that might’ve been sitting just behind his eyes.He’s still thinking about it.Still chasing it in his mind even as his body stayed here—on our dirt, with our people, and the chil

Tristan – POVThe calm didn’t last.Of course it didn’t.Peace has always been a boring time for me—something you steal in the dark and pray the gods don’t notice.Lily stood in front of the fire later that night, arms crossed, her silhouette sharp against the flickering light. The warmth touched her hair, painting it gold, but her expression could’ve frozen the whole room.“I’m not leaving, Tristan.”Again.I rubbed a hand over my face. “We’ve been over this.”“Yeah, and I still said no.”“You’re not safe here.” My voice came out low, clipped. “The rebellion—Xavier’s wolves, the rogues—they’re coming back. This manor is a tomb waiting to happen.”“Then let it,” she said simply. “I’m not going to run just because it’s convenient for you to pretend I don’t exist.”I slammed my fist on the table, hard enough to rattle the goblets. “Dammit, Lily!”Her eyes sparked. “There he is. The great Alpha Tristan. Always so noble until someone tells him no.”“I’m trying to protect you!”“No,” she s

Aria – POVThe road back to Crescent was made of ghosts.Every bend in the path, every whisper of wind through the trees carried something with it—memories I hadn’t asked for. Pain I hadn’t buried deep enough. And still, we rode forward, the old wagon creaking beneath us, pulled by a pair of weathered horses that seemed to understand the weight of our silence.I sat curled against Xavier, his arm draped carefully around my shoulders, his other hand resting on my thigh like he needed the grounding as much as I did. The trees passed in a blur. The sun stretched long shadows across the dirt, and I couldn’t tell if it was the baby or the dread sitting heavy in my stomach.“They’re not going to let us in,” I whispered.Xavier’s jaw ticked. He didn’t look at me. “They don’t have to. I’m not asking.”There it was again—that edge to him. Not rage, exactly. Not coldness either. Something sharper. Cleaner. Like steel forged in loss and love and the kind of fire that doesn’t burn out.“You think