All Chapters of Bound to The Enemy of My Mate : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The silence that followed was vast and suffocating. Kael stood motionless, the fight gone out of him, leaving behind a hollowed-out shell of a man. His eyes, once sharp with a hunter's focus, were now dull with a pain so profound it seemed to absorb the fading light."You are such a cruel being," he murmured, the words so low they were almost inaudible to human ears, a raw confession meant only for himself."Enjoying the time you torment me so heartlessly like this." It was a stark reminder of his own folly: he had fallen in love with a woman whose heart was a fortress, and he was forever on the outside, foolishly pressing his face against the glass. But both Elira and Thane heard it with perfect, painful clarity.Elira froze, his words—so vulnerable and accusing—striking her with the force of a physical blow. It was Thane who broke the tense silence. He let out a short, derisive snort."Funny. I never knew the great war hero was actually such an irresponsible man." His voice was laced

The doorknob turned with a sound like a bone breaking in the profound silence of the study. Elira froze, every muscle locking. Pressed into the stifling darkness of the wardrobe, she watched through the narrow slit between the doors as the head servant’s assistant, a young man named Corbin, stepped hesitantly into the room. His eyes, wide with a responsibility too heavy for his shoulders, darted around, and immediately fixed on the doorframe. A soft, distressed sound escaped him. The thread was gone.Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat of exposure. She could smell the sharp tang of his anxiety, mixed with the lemon polish he used on the silver. He muttered under his breath, the words a frantic, self-admonishing whisper she could just catch.“Fool… it must have fallen… the Master will have your hide if anything is amiss… just a thread, just a thread…” He was trying to convince himself.He dropped to his knees, checking under the massive oak desk. He peered behind the

The business concluded, Kael turned and walked stiffly to his horse, his intention to depart alone clear. He understood the script. The show at the mansion awaited. There was no need for discussion. It was then that Elira moved to Thane. She reached for his hand, her voice dropping to a private, urgent whisper. “Be careful. Please. If anything seems wrong, you pull back. The information isn’t worth your life.” Her concern was palpable, a stark contrast to the icy transaction that had just taken place. Kael, his back to them as he adjusted his horse’s stirrup, did not turn. But his shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly. He deliberately kept his gaze fixed on the distant trees, granting them a shred of privacy he found agonizing. He would not watch this. He would not bear witness to the tenderness she so freely gave to another. With a final, lingering look, Thane released her hand and turned to Richard. The two men, hunter and wolf, shared a terse nod. Then, without a backward glan

The chilling implications of the gunpowder and the list hung in the air between them, solidifying the abstract horror of the Outskirts into a concrete, treasonous plot. Kael watched Elira’s face as the reality settled in, seeing the color drain from her cheeks.“I always knew my father was a greedy man,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.“But I never thought… I never imagined he would go this far.” A faint tremor shook the words, a crack in her usual composure that revealed the profound shock of a child finally seeing the true monstrousness of a parent.For a fleeting moment, Kael’s own icy resolve wavered. He saw not the strategic partner or the unwilling wife, but a woman whose entire world had just been revealed as a lie. A surge of empathy, sharp and unwelcome, pricked at his heart. He wanted to say something, to offer a word of comfort that wasn't part of their contract. But the memory of her whispered concern for Thane, the word beggar, slammed back into place.His jaw tig

The silence of the manor was shattered. He could not let her go, could not risk the space between them becoming permanent. With one arm locked around Elira’s limp form, he used the other to frantically yank the heavy woolen blanket from the foot of the bed, covering her nakedness with a trembling hand. It was a futile gesture of protection, a attempt to shield her dignity when her very life was in the balance. He gathered her back into his arms, the blanket a thin barrier between his skin and hers, and even through the thick wool, he fancied he could feel a faint, ominous heat—the aftermath of the burning. The door flew open seconds later. Orin, the stern, capable head servant who had served Malven’s family for decades, stood frozen in the doorway. His eyes, usually so composed, widened in shock at the scene. He saw his master, shirtless and wild-eyed, clutching the Lady Elira to his chest. Her body was wrapped like a shroud, her head lolling against his shoulder, her face a terrifyin