Lahat ng Kabanata ng Claimed by my Ex-husband's friend : Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

Third Person’s PerspectiveElena sat on the cold floor of the training hall. The stone beneath her felt hard and unfriendly, almost biting into her skin. Her wrists were sore from the ropes that had been tied earlier, red marks running across her skin where the rope had rubbed too tightly. She rubbed them slowly, hissing under her breath as the sting spread through her arms.Her pride, the one thing she always held high, was breaking little by little. Each passing moment made her feel smaller, weaker, and humiliated. This punishment was not like the last one. It wasn’t quick or simple. This time, it was worse. Much worse.Her eyes moved around the room. A small group of young pack members stood gathered near the corner. They were about her age, but the way they looked at her had completely changed. Once, they were cautious and fearful when she was around. Once, they looked at her like she was someone to avoid, someone who could ruin their day with a word or a glare. But now, none of t

Leo’s PerspectiveI stood over the bodies, my hands in fists so tight my knuckles turned white. The ground beneath me was stained dark with blood, and the sharp, metallic smell filled the night air, heavy and suffocating. My men shifted uncomfortably behind me. I could hear them whispering, some too afraid to speak above their breath. A few turned their faces away, unable to keep looking at the sight, while others kept staring at the strange marks burned into the necks of our fallen pack members as if staring long enough would give them answers.I knew that mark. I had seen it before. Somewhere. Sometime. But where?My head kept repeating the same thought like a broken drumbeat: I know this symbol. I know it. But why can’t I remember? Every time I thought I was close to recalling it, the memory slipped away, leaving only frustration behind.Lucas stepped closer, his face pale but his voice steady. “Leo… this is not normal. These marks… they look like something old. Ancient, just like

Flora’s Perspective“Flora,” Leo said, his voice low and serious, “you can’t keep staring at me like that. You’re going to give me ideas.”I smirked, tilting my head. “Oh? And what ideas would those be?”He took a slow step closer, his eyes dark, focused. “The kind that don’t belong in public,” he murmured, his hand brushing lightly against mine as he passed.I laughed softly, letting my fingers linger where his had touched. “Public doesn’t matter,” I said, leaning a little closer. “Not when we have… time like this.”He chuckled, low and husky, and I felt the familiar pull in my chest. Every word, every look between us seemed to carry more than the conversation itself. It wasn’t just about talking—it was about control, about presence, about that unspoken connection we shared.“Do you even realize how dangerous that smile of yours is?” he asked, his voice dropping even lower.I leaned forward, teasing, letting my hair brush his shoulder. “Dangerous? Maybe. Or maybe I just know exactly

Third Person’s PerspectiveThree weeks later, the pack was full of excitement.The whole village was decorated for the festival. Colorful lanterns hung from tall wooden poles, their warm glow lighting up the night sky. Long tables were covered with food, roasted meat, bread, fruits, and bowls of steaming soup. The air smelled rich with spices and firewood.Music played loudly in the center of the field. Drummers beat their hands on stretched hides, and flutes sang out sharp and clear. The rhythm made people laugh and move their feet. Children ran around, chasing one another with ribbons and wooden toys. Women carried trays of food, serving everyone who passed. Men lifted their drinks high and shouted cheers, clapping each other on the back.It was the festival, a time the pack celebrated peace and blessings. Everyone was dressed in their best clothes. Everyone was smiling. For a moment, the world felt safe.Flora stood with Leo at the edge of the crowd, close enough to see the firelig

Third Person’s PerspectiveFlora moved slowly through the thick forest. Her steps were weak and uneven. Her dress was torn at the sides, the fabric catching on low branches as she tried to push forward. Her bare feet hurt from walking over roots and stones, and every step made her legs shake. She leaned on trees for support, pressing her palm against the rough bark, breathing hard as if each breath was a battle.She kept close to the shadows, hiding behind tall trees whenever she heard something move. Voices still echoed from far away. Valen’s men were still searching for her. Sometimes she thought she saw a dark figure passing between the trees, and she froze completely, even holding her breath, afraid they would hear the sound of her lungs.Her stomach growled loudly. She had not eaten anything since the night of the festival. Hunger made her weak, and her hands trembled when she tried to hold branches out of her way. Once, she found a small stream. She bent down quickly and tried t