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Semua Bab Another Chance : Bab 91 - Bab 100

112 Bab

Chapter Ninety-One

The Choice That Breaks the Sky Rissa’s POV The shadow was inches from me when I stopped running. Cold stretched toward my face, hollow eyes widening, absence opening like a mouth ready to swallow everything I was. I did not step back. I stepped forward. “I open,” I said. The words were not loud. But the world heard them. Something inside me unlocked. Not gently. Not slowly. It tore through me like a dam breaking. Light exploded outward from my chest, silver and fierce, ripping through the clearing in a blinding surge. The shadow that had lunged at me disintegrated on contact, shredding into nothing before it could even scream. The others recoiled. The silver figure beside me did not move. It watched. Approval humming in the air like distant thunder. Memory slammed into me. Not fragments this time. Everything. I saw the first breach tear open between worlds, a wound in reality that bled darkness into forests and cities alike. I saw creatures pou

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Chapter Ninety-Two

What a King Remembers Mark’s POV The first arrow never reaches her. I catch it midair. The silver tip burns my palm as I crush it, the metal hissing against my skin before I throw the broken shaft aside. The Hunters do not hesitate. They never do. A second wave follows the first, a disciplined arc of steel aimed at one target. Rissa. I shift without thinking. Bone tears. Muscle stretches. The wolf surges forward with a roar that splits the clearing. Fur erupts across my skin as I slam into the line of attack, claws carving through the first Hunter before he can reload. They are not reckless. They are precise. Shields rise. Crossbows reset. The chained Lycan at their center stumbles forward under the pull of silver restraints etched with runes that shimmer in the moonlight. I know that crest burned into his shoulder. Silverthorn. My kingdom. My responsibility. Rissa’s power still hums through the trees, a low resonance like the echo of a storm that has just passed. The v

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Chapter Ninety-Three

Rissa’s POVThe forest outside New Orleans is thick with humidity and memory.Spanish moss hangs from cypress branches like ghosts that never left. The Mississippi moves somewhere beyond the trees, slow and patient, as if it has seen too many wars to be impressed by another one.We are not in a castle.We are in a reinforced safehouse hidden deep in bayou territory just outside the city limits. Concrete walls. Steel doors. Pack sentries stationed in rotating shifts beneath live oaks older than most bloodlines.Silverthorn is not stone and towers.It is territory.And right now, it is holding its breath.I wake before dawn with my palm pressed flat against my stomach.Not from pain.From awareness.There is a rhythm there that is not mine.Soft. Faint. New.I lie still, listening.The power

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Chapter Ninety-Four

Leaving the ShadowsRissa’s POVDusk settles slowly over the Louisiana marsh.The sky turns dark above the cypress trees, and the humidity thickens as if the bayou itself is reluctant to release us. Insects hum somewhere beyond the safehouse walls. Water laps softly against the muddy banks in the distance.Everything looks calm.But the tension inside the compound says otherwise.Mark’s soldiers move quietly through the clearing, preparing vehicles and securing supply bags. No armor. No royal insignias. Anyone looking from a distance would think they were just a group of travelers leaving a hunting camp.That is exactly the illusion Mark wants.I stand near the outer fence, watching the fading light slip through the hanging moss.My hand rests lightly against my stomach again.The warmth there has not faded all day.If anything, it feels clearer now.Stronger.A tiny pulse of life beneath my palm.I close my eyes briefly.You are safe, I think silently. No matter what happens next.F

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Chapter Ninety-Five

A Quiet Place in the StormRissa’s POVThe French Quarter never truly sleeps.Even this late into the night, the streets breathe with music and movement. Jazz drifts from open bar doors. Laughter echoes off old brick buildings. Neon lights flicker across narrow sidewalks where tourists and locals blend into a restless tide of humanity.No one notices us.That is the point.Mark walks beside me down a dim hallway that smells faintly of old wood and coffee. The apartment building is tucked between a bookstore and a narrow restaurant that spills warm yellow light onto the street.From the outside it looks ordinary.Inside, it is quiet.Safe.Or at least safer than the forest.Mark stops in front of a dark green door and unlocks it.“This is it,” he says.The door swings open.The apartment is small but clean. Exposed brick walls. A wide window that looks down toward the glowing street below. A couch, a kitchen island, and a narrow hallway leading to two bedrooms.No pack guards.No war m

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Chapter Ninety-Six

The Weight of Silence Mark’s POVThe city feels different from the forest.In the forest, danger breathes with the wind. Wolves hear it in the rustling leaves, smell it in the damp earth, feel it in the pulse of territory beneath their feet.Cities hide danger better.New Orleans hums with life beneath the night sky. Music pours from open bar doors. Car engines roll along wet streets. Human voices echo through narrow alleys.Too many sounds.Too many scents.Too many places for enemies to hide.I sit in the dark living room of the apartment, watching the street below through the narrow gap between the curtains.A trumpet player is still performing on the corner.Tourists gather around him, tossing dollar bills into an open case.They laugh.Drink.Dance.Completely unaware that le

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Chapter Ninety-Seven

Blown Cover Rissa’s POV Morning comes slowly in the city. Sunlight slips through the thin curtains of the bedroom window, spreading across the wooden floor in long golden lines. Somewhere outside, a delivery truck rumbles down the street. Human voices drift upward from the sidewalk. Someone laughs. Someone argues. The world continues moving as if nothing is wrong. As if there is no war building in the shadows. I wake before Mark. That almost never happens. He sleeps lightly, always alert even in rest, but the last few days have taken more from him than he admits. Traveling through the forest, moving the pack, keeping the Hunters guessing. Then the journey into the city. He finally allowed himself a few hours of real sleep. I lie still for a moment and watch him. His chest rises slowly with each breath. One arm rests acr

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Chapter Ninety-Eight

Dead or AliveRissa’s POVThe city explodes into motion around us.Mark’s hand tightens around my wrist as we sprint down the narrow street. Tourists scatter out of the way, confused by the sudden urgency. Someone shouts behind us. A car horn blares as we cut across an intersection without slowing.My heart slams hard against my ribs.The Hunter is already on the phone.Calling others.They found us faster than we expected.“Left,” Mark says sharply.We turn into a side street lined with old brick buildings and wrought iron balconies. Laundry hangs from one of the upper floors, swaying gently in the warm morning air.It looks peaceful.Too peaceful.Mark slows slightly, his eyes scanning the street ahead.“Do not stop moving,” he says quietly.“I am not planning to.”My lungs

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Chapter Ninety- nine

Broken Rissa’s POVThe thing that steps out of the warehouse is wrong.At first my mind tries to make sense of it. To fit it into something familiar. A wolf. A man. A hybrid of both.But it does not belong to any of those.Its body is too long, too stretched, like something pulled past its natural limits. Limbs bend at angles that should not hold weight, yet it moves without struggle. Its skin is pale, almost gray, and thin enough that I can see something shifting beneath it. Not blood. Not muscle.Movement.Like shadows trapped under flesh.It drags one clawed foot across the concrete as it steps into the light. The sound is slow. Deliberate. Like it knows we are watching.Like it wants us to see it.My breath comes shallow.“What is that?” I whisper.Mark does not answer.He steps forward instead, placing himself between me and the creature.His entire body has changed.Not fully shifted, but close enough.His shoulders broaden. His stance lowers. The faint silver glow in his eyes

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Chapter 100

What I ProtectMark’s POVEverything goes wrong at once.The shadows spill across the ground like something alive. Not smoke. Not mist. They move with intent. They stretch, rise, and twist into shapes that should not exist.Rissa stands at the center of it.Power pours out of her.I feel it in my bones. I feel it in the way the air bends around her, like the world itself is struggling to hold its shape.“Rissa,” I call.She does not answer.Her eyes are not on me. They are fixed somewhere beyond this street, beyond this moment. Like she is seeing something I cannot.The Door is open.And I do not know how to close it.The first shadow lunges.I meet it head-on. My claws tear through its form, but it does not bleed. It breaks apart for a second, then pulls itself back together like it was never damaged.Not flesh.Not alive.Something else.“Focus on the source,” one of the Hunters shouts behind me.I turn just in time to see one of them raising that same device again. The one that tor

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