All Chapters of The President's Mate: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Devon POVMy voice thundered through the prison chamber, vibrating against the stone walls.“What do you want?” I demanded, the words rolling out of me like a strike of thunder.Clementine’s lips tugged into that faint smile—the kind that wasn’t really a smile but a secret waiting to be spoken. She looked as though I had finally asked the question she’d been waiting for all along.“Well?” I pressed, my voice sharp, echoing again.She shifted, the silver chains clinking faintly as she tried to find some comfort in her restraints, but there was no comfort to be found. Those bonds weren’t meant for comfort. They were meant for containment. And even though I knew they were necessary, my chest ached at the sight of her bound that way.She was Jimmie’s cousin. His blood. His family and, by extension, mine too. Seeing her tied and trapped like this, it was killing him. And seeing the hurt etched across his face only twisted the knife deeper in me.But precautions had to be taken. No matter w

JIMMIE POVHis scream split the night.Not just sound, it was a tear through the air itself, jagged, desperate, and ugly. I felt it crawl along my skin like a sickness.The pack was already gathered in the courtyard, a storm of bodies, fur, and fury. News of Elder Throne’s betrayal had flown through Woodland like wildfire, and now vengeance hummed in every throat. They wanted blood. They wanted pain. They wanted the man who had stood beside them for decades — a father figure to some, a guide to many, and, as we had learned, a traitor to all to pay with every last breath in his lungs.And there he was.Tied to the stake.The sight of him was… haunting. Thick silver chains forged to hold even the strongest of his kind bit into his wrists and ankles, leaving raw burns where his skin tried, and failed, to heal. He pulled at them, over and over, with jerks of his arms, twists of his shoulders, his teeth gnashing against the agony. Each rattle of the links clanged through the circle like a

Jimmie POV No matter how much I willed myself, sleep would not come. My body was exhausted, spent, aching in the most intimate ways that only Devon could leave me… and yet my mind refused to quiet. I lay there for a while, curled in the warmth of his arms, listening to the steady rise and fall of his chest. Devon looked so different in sleep— so peaceful, so far removed from the heavy weight he carried as Alpha. His brow was smooth, his lips relaxed, his breath soft. For a moment, I just stared, memorising him like this. I prayed this peace would last for him. That this phase of fire and blood would end, and that the hunters would soon be nothing but a shadow in our past. But still… I was restless. Carefully, I eased myself from his hold. Devon stirred slightly, his arm shifting against the sheets, and my breath caught. I froze mid-step, my heart hammering, but he only rolled onto his side, sighing deeply, lost again in sleep. Relief rushed through me. He needed this rest, and I wo

Jimmie POV“You…” she began slowly, “you spaced out. It was like you went into a trance, or—”She cut herself off. Her gaze sharpened, her lips parting in sudden realisation.“Oh my gods…” she whispered, then her face lit up, her hands clapping together like an excited child. “Oh my gods, Luna! You just went into a trance!”I stared at her, still shaking, her words crashing against the storm inside me.“And that could only mean one thing!” she squealed, her excitement bubbling over in sharp contrast to the terror still gripping me.I swallowed hard, my voice low, broken. "Mean… what?"Molly leaned in, her face full of wonder, as if she were in front of a miracle.“Luna,” she said, each word deliberate, “you… are a seer.”Her voice echoed in the vast silence of the library, colliding with the ringing still clinging to my ears.I stared at her, the echo of her words still vibrating in my skull.A seer.The air rushed out of my lungs as if the universe had sucker-punched me. My knees wea

Eleanor’s POVThe scientist in the white coat raised her hand, and one of her assistants hurried forward with a black metal case. When she flipped the latches, a pale mist spilt upward, curling into the air like frozen breath.A shiver slid down my spine. What in the world is that?She reached into the case and withdrew a syringe—long, thin, the glass barrel glowing faintly with a bluish haze. Even through the thick glass, I could see the liquid swirl as if alive. She raised it deliberately, holding it high so that we all could see.“We will begin with Exhibit A,” she announced, her voice cool, clinical. “The werewolf.”The bound wolf-man roared behind his gag, muscles straining so violently his chair rattled against the floor. The sound rattled my ribs even through the glass.Jim leaned toward the mic, his voice sharp, curious. “And what exactly should we be expecting, Doctor?”The scientist’s gaze flicked toward us, steady, unbothered. “This formula code name Spuric Formula X has be