Semua Bab Reborn! Princess Leila's Second Chance: Bab 1 - Bab 10

LeilaThe sterile scent of antiseptic stung my nostrils, mingling with the metallic tang of my own blood. I lay on the operating table, its cold surface biting into my skin through the flimsy gown, a slab of ice beneath a dying flame.Pain tore through me, each contraction a jagged blade twisting in my gut.I was 27, a Lycan Princess, and yet here I was, unraveling on this frigid bed, my life seeping out in crimson rivers. The room hummed with the relentless beep of machines, a mocking pulse against my fading one.I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms, but the physical agony was nothing compared to the hollow ache gnawing at my soul.With the last scraps of my strength, I reached out through the Mindlink, my mental voice a frail whisper -"Lucas, please."The plea trembled in the dark expanse of my mind, but it met only silence, a wall as unyielding as stone.He had blocked me again, severed the bond that should have tethered us.My mate, my Alpha, had cast me aside like a

LucasThe lobby stank of polished wood and the cloying musk of too many bodies pressed into one space. I stood near the edge, my shoulders stiff in the tailored jacket Josephine had insisted I wear. It clung too tight across my chest, a cage for the beast rattling beneath my ribs. The full moon pulsed outside, its light seeping through the tall windows, tugging at my blood like a tide I couldn't outrun. I kept my eyes on the crowd, willing my focus anywhere but inward, where the hunger gnawed.Then the air shifted. A ripple cut through the chatter, sharp and sudden, like a blade through flesh. Heads swiveled, mouths hushed, and there she was - Leila, striding into the lobby like she'd clawed her way out of a dream I didn't want to have. My wife. The Lycan Princess. She wore a red dress that bled into the room, silk so tight it might've been painted on, blooming over her hips like a rose caught mid-thorn. Her lips burned the same shade, and her eyes - damn those eyes - swept the space

DarrenThe auction room reeked of wealth - polished wood and cigar ash, the kind of stench that clung to your skin like a second hide. I slouched in my chair, the velvet too soft against my back, watching the crowd preen and posture. Caccius perched beside me, his chair tilted back, only the rear legs kissing the floor. He swayed like a drunk, champagne sloshing in his glass, a crooked grin splitting his face."Money is capricious!" he crowed, voice sharp with glee and nerves. "Such a broken piece of land! I guess this 2 billion will be wasted."The auctioneer's voice sliced through the murmur, smooth as a blade. "2 billion once! 2 billion twice!"I lifted my sign, the weight of it cold in my palm. "3 billion."Caccius's chair crashed down, a hard crack against the floor. His champagne hit the carpet, a wet gold stain blooming fast. He didn't even glance at it - just scrambled up, lunging for my arm. His fingers dug in, desperate, trembling. "For the fuck's sake! Darren Stockton, what

Lucas"I want a divorce," Leila said. Her voice cut through the silence, cold and deliberate, like a blade sliding across stone. She stood near the door, arms crossed, her chin lifted as if she were some queen passing judgment.I turned, slow, my breath catching in my throat. "Have you lost your mind?" The words came out rough, scraped from somewhere deep inside me."I'm calm." Her eyes met mine, unyielding, no trace of the softness I'd once known. "And I'm done with you."My pulse hammered against my skull. How dare she? I was her mate - her fucking mate. The bond between us wasn't some trinket she could toss aside. It was blood and bone, a tether no one could break. Not her. Not anyone. I took a step toward her, my hands curling into fists. "You don't mean that.""I do." Her lips barely moved, but the certainty in her voice was a slap across my face.Normally, I'd have ignored it - called it a tantrum, a flare of temper she'd regret by morning. But tonight, her stance, her scent, th

DarrenShe lay curled on the floor, her red dress shredded, a tattered remnant of something once beautiful. Bruises bloomed across her arms, dark and angry against her pale skin, and she looked small, fragile, like a bird with broken wings. Moonlight spilled through the window, bathing her in a silver glow, her breath a soft, shallow rhythm in the stillness.My heart twisted, rage boiling up hot and thick. Lucas Lavoie. That bastard. How could he leave her like this? How could he touch her, hurt her, and walk away? My fists clenched, nails biting into my palms, but beneath the anger was something deeper - something raw and aching. She didn't deserve this. Not her.She hadn't stirred, hadn't felt me there, and I stepped closer, my boots silent on the cold floor. The bruises on her body gnawed at me - why weren't they healing? Full moon nights made us stronger, our wounds knitting shut under lunar light. But she was haggard, drained, like the moon had abandoned her.Her eyes fluttered o