Lahat ng Kabanata ng Submission is Not My Style : Kabanata 211 - Kabanata 218

Four months later --- The room smells faintly of parchment, candle wax, and tension. The long mahogany table is buried beneath scrolls and maps—territories, borders, pack names—each marked in bold red ink. Jack sits at the head of the table, jaw tight, eyes sharp as he scans a report like he’s pre

“Kali?” Her name leaves my mouth in a broken whisper. My heart feels like it’s about to stop, terrified of the worst—terrified that she’s gone. Her body lies still—too still—and my pulse hammers violently against my ribs. I press my palm to her cheek. She’s warm, her skin pale and slick with sweat.

Jack steps forward, rubbing the back of his neck. “Speaking of that,” he says, his voice calm but firm, “I’ve been talking with the High Priest. I think he’s found a solution.” I tense immediately. “What kind of solution?” “A harmless one,” Jack assures me, though he doesn’t quite meet my eyes. “S

By the time we make it back to our private tent that night, exhaustion finally crashes over me. I sink onto the edge of the bed, untying the leather straps from my wrists. Every muscle aches, and without thinking, my hand drifts to my lower belly again. Jack turns from the basin where he’s washing