All Chapters of Mated To My Stepbrother : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Novah’s POV "So that's it? You just shrug your shoulders and let it happen? Let Novah be thrown to that… that animal?" The raw anger in Ashton's voice was terrifying, but beneath it, something else flickered – a desperation, a ragged edge that sounded almost like… pain?"What would you have me do, Ashton?" Camilia cried, her voice cracking. "Storm into his office? Issue an ultimatum? Challenge the Alpha? You know what the consequences of that would be! For me! For *you*!" Her voice dropped, becoming a fierce whisper I strained to hear. "This pack's stability is fragile enough. Open defiance? It would fracture everything!""Stability built on sacrificing Novah?" Ashton’s retort was scathing. "Some stability. What about *her* fracture? What about what it will do to her? Or does that not factor into your precious calculations?" His voice dropped lower, becoming a menacing growl. "You saw her, Mother. Truly saw her? In the drawing room? She looked like she was already at her own funeral.

Novah’s POV The cabin’s warmth had been a lie.The fire’s embers were cold ash when I woke, curled under the thick wool blanket Ashton had tucked around me. The space beside the couch where he’d knelt, where his eyes had held something terrifyingly close to *promise*, was empty. Only the faint scent of pine and his unique, sharp alpha musk lingered, already fading."Rest," he’d said. "I’ll speak to Father."Hope. Brittle, stupid hope. It had unfurled in my chest like a poisoned flower during the night, fed by the broth, the crackling fire, the sheer, impossible relief of not being alone. For a few stolen hours, the crushing weight of being Novah Thorne – omega, burden, pawn – had lifted.Now, the silence screamed. The cabin felt like a stage after the actors had fled, leaving only the hollow set. I pushed myself up, muscles protesting, head still fuzzy at the edges from whatever Loveth had slipped into that sickly-sweet tea. The memory of Nick’s hands, his breath, the terrifying para

Novah's POVRain. It was always rain. It lashed the windows of the conservatory, blurring Ashton’s turned back into a smudge of grey indifference. His words – *"Go to your room, Novah. Stay out of sight. Let the storm pass."* – weren’t just dismissal. They were a death sentence. A verdict passed by the pack, delivered by the one person whose warmth, however fleeting, had felt like oxygen.The numbness that followed was thick, syrupy. It didn’t erase the pain, just muffled its screams. It wrapped around my thoughts, making them slow, sluggish, like wading through frozen mud. *Omega. Weak. Shallow. Problem.* The pack’s psychic hum vibrated through the very stones of the mansion, a relentless drone of condemnation. *Drugged slut. Stalker. Disgrace.* It wasn't just whispers anymore; it was the air I choked on.My room. My gilded cage. Meredith had left soup. It sat cold on the desk, congealing. The smell turned my stomach. School. My final project. The intricate molecular model I’d spent

Ashton’s POV“She… she was in her room, sir,” Meredith stammered, eyes wide with fear. “I brought soup earlier… she didn’t answer, but I thought… she was resting…”“The door’s locked!” Ashton snapped. He didn’t wait. Stepping back, he braced himself and slammed his shoulder into the wood just beside the lock. Once. Twice. The frame splintered with a sickening crack on the third impact, and the door swung violently inward.The room hit him like a physical blow. Cold. Empty. Impossibly still. Rain streaked the window, casting shifting grey light on the untouched bed. The soup bowl sat on the desk, the contents congealed, greasy, and cold. A school textbook lay open, pages pristine. But Novah… Novah was gone. The air held only the faint, fading scent of her shampoo and the sharp tang of fear.The world tilted. The carefully constructed wall inside him cracked, then crumbled. The cold stone of unease exploded into white-hot panic. *Gone.* She was gone. His breath hitched, a ragged sound i

Ashton's POVThe silence in the pack house was a physical thing. Thick. Suffocating. It pressed against Ashton’s temples, a low drone replacing the frantic drumming of rain and his own desperate roars from days that felt like years ago. He stood at the window of his father’s – no, *the Alpha’s* – study, staring out at the moon-drenched grounds of Moon-Star territory. The manicured lawns, the ancient oaks, the training grounds – all pristine, orderly, mocking. Everything was exactly as it should be. Except Novah wasn’t here.The hunt into the rogue lands had been a brutal, bloody failure. Days of tracking, nights spent tense and ready for ambush, the metallic tang of violence hanging heavy in the air. They’d found traces – more torn fabric, scuff marks near the border river, the lingering stench of unfamiliar wolves. But no Novah. No body. No closure. Just… nothing. The trail vanished like smoke over water. The roges, whoever they were, had covered their tracks with brutal efficiency,