All Chapters of Broken by One, Desired by All : Chapter 341 - Chapter 350

Caroline's Point Of View"Well, you're overcrowding my space," I said, my voice coming out way higher than I wanted it to. "Well, you're not moving away," Charlie shot back, completely unbothered, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he already knew he'd won. My face went instantly hot. My fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt, my knuckles digging right into his chest. I couldn't even look him in the eye… I was suddenly very interested in the small ink stain on his collar, the grain of the wooden desk behind him, literally anything in the room that wasn't his face hovering three inches from mine. My heart hammered so loudly I was certain he could hear it, could probably feel it thrumming through my fingertips where they still gripped his shirt. Some small, humiliating part of me wondered if he could smell it too… that traitorous thing wolves did, scenting want before the mind had even caught up. His grip on my jaw shifted. His fingers squeezed gently, ti

Ronan's Point Of ViewThe high council hall smelled like wet leather, cold marble, and centuries of bad blood. Even the torches seemed to burn warily here, their flames guttering low as though the weight of old grudges pressed down on everything, flame included. The stone walls themselves seemed to remember every betrayal ever whispered within them, and I could almost feel the ghosts of past wars pacing the shadows beyond the firelight. The giant round table in the center was carved out of black iron-tree wood, heavy enough to crush a man if it ever fell over, and surrounded by eight ridiculously oversized chairs, each one carved with the sigil of its ruling race. My father, the Alpha King, sat at the head of it, his broad shoulders squared like he'd been carved from the same iron-tree wood himself. I stood two steps behind his right shoulder, my arms crossed over my chest, watching the elders and heads of state shuffle into their seats like teeth being pulled.Nobody in this room tr

Zane's Point Of ViewThe leather strap of my chest armor dug straight into my collarbone, but I couldn't even bother to adjust it. My hands were shaking. Just a tiny bit, but enough that I had to clench my fists into my thighs to hide it. I didn't want anyone else to see. Not today. Not when everyone around me needed to believe I was steady. One week. It had been seven days since the summit wrapped up, and now we were actually doing this. Seven days of frantic preparation had somehow felt both endless and nowhere near enough, each night blurring into the next in a haze of exhaustion and dread. Around us, the main courtyard was absolute chaos. Hundreds of high-tier wolf warriors checked their gear, dragon vanguards strapped heavy iron plates to their forearms, and the air smelled like ozone, sweat, and cheap weapon oil. Somewhere off to the side, a young recruit vomited quietly behind a supply cart, and nobody stopped to comfort him.There wasn't time for comfort anymore. I watched h

The room smelled of rubbing alcohol, old leather, and copper… that unmistakable iron stench of blood that refused to scrub out of the stone floor no matter how many times the servants bleached it. The scent had settled into the very walls by now, a permanent resident that no amount of cleaning could evict. It was a massive chamber, but it felt like a prison. Dark velvet drapes, thick enough to block out every shred of sunlight, hung heavy over the arched glass windows, as though someone had wanted to seal the room away from the rest of the world entirely. The only light came from two faint rune-lamps flickering lazily in the corners, casting long, ugly shadows across the walls. A heavy oak desk on the far side sat piled high with half-burnt candles, empty glass vials of recovery salve, and dirty cloth wraps stained black at the centers… evidence of a vigil that had gone on far too long. Someone had once kept careful watch here, counting hours in melted wax and spent bandages, until

Miles' Point Of View"Nobody at that dump could even hit my coat," I sneered, leaning back in my chair until the front two legs lifted off the dark wood floor. I twirled the silver spoon between my fingers, letting a cold, lazy smirk stretch across my mouth. "Seriously. You pay all those tuition fees for top-tier combat instructors, and half of them get winded just setting up a basic defense circle. Staying there another semester would've turned my brain into mush." "Miles." My father didn't shout. He didn't slam his cup on the table or yell at Doctor Vane to leave the room. He just said my name, his deep voice dropping into a quiet, heavy register that instantly cut through the room, silencing even the soft clink of silverware around us. Doctor Vane, who had been quietly cutting into his roast, set his knife down without a sound, as though he understood this was no longer a conversation he belonged to. The front legs of my chair hit the floor with a loud thud. He leaned across th