Lahat ng Kabanata ng MATED TO MY BROTHER'S ENEMY : Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

Infiltration BeginsThe moon barely bothered to show up tonight, hanging low, sulking on the horizon, just enough light to cast these long, moody shadows across the busted-up wagons and trashed noble carriages. Sir Lucas crouched behind what was probably a cauldron once, now just a dented hunk of metal. He ran his hands over his arms and battered armor, one last check. The buzz of battle had faded, leaving this… weird, twitchy silence, like the world was holding its breath.Marcus? He was smack in the middle of the pack, looking like he’d crawled out of hell, scars and bruises everywhere, but in his eyes? Dude was laser-focused. That mate bond with Lyra was humming, practically vibrating between them, passing way more than mushy feelings. She was feeding him the enemy’s positions, her empathic senses pinging off every lurking threat like some kind of supernatural radar.“Two sentries at the east entrance,” Marcus murmured, voice low but clear, like Lyra was speaking through him. “Six

Pack at the GatesSir Lucas just sorta slouched against the ramshackle palisade, fingers drumming on his sword hilt, listening in on the guards beyond. Man, their voices, full-on zombie preacher mode, like the crystal scrambled their brains. Still, beneath all that fake loyalty, Lucas caught the edge of something else. Panic. The kind that crawls up your spine when you realize maybe your all-powerful prince isn't so all-powerful after all."The ritual fizzled," one guard hissed, sounding way too rattled. "Prince Kael's staff, something’s whacked. The prisoners are breaking out.""No way," his buddy spat back, but honestly, he didn’t sound convinced. The guy clung to faith in the prince’s magic like a drowning man clings to driftwood. "Kael can't be beaten. That crystal, "Lucas gave a tight, lopsided grin, flashing four fingers in the darkness where his crew waited. Last finger pointed: main gate. In four heartbeats, all hell would break loose, enough noise to yank every eye away fro

The Real EvilThe Keeper lifted his ghostly hands, all dramatic, while that nasty power just oozed through the cracked veins of the chamber. Silver goop, pure corruption, poured across the altar, supposed to turn Lyra into god-knows-what. But nah, she didn’t flinch, not even a twitch. Instead, Lyra damn near strutted right into the current, her bracelet blazing like some tiny sun.“You haven’t got a clue what you’re messing with, kid,” the Keeper tossed out, voice dripping with every bit of his ancient, smug attitude. “These rituals? Older than your grandma’s grandma. Your dinky omega tricks won’t cut it.”“Oh?” Lyra just pressed that holy silver band right onto the floor’s carved channel, where the evil stuff was running like some toxic river. The instant metal met stone, the whole current just… reversed, like someone hit the undo button.The Keeper staggered back, jaw somewhere around his knees, as his precious corruption spun around and charged back at him. Minions in the shadows

Embracing the AlphaLyra burst out of the castle’s guts like a force of nature in the shape of a woman, her silk dress shredded, blood spattered, hair wild, eyes flat-out electric. Seriously, you could almost see the air ripple around her. That ancient rot? Gone. Burned out by some kind of silver wildfire that didn’t just clean house, it scorched the bones. Of course, nothing comes for free, right? She looked different. Felt different. More than just wiped out, like she’d been rebuilt from the inside out.She shot across the courtyard, barefoot, barely even touching the stones. One second she was at the door, next she was halfway across the yard. If you blinked, you’d miss her. The mate bond thrummed in her chest, a painfully clear reminder that Marcus was somewhere out there, still recovering from days of hell. His body was wrecked, but at least his mind was his own again.The castle gates were blown open, all splinters and melted metal, like they’d been punched in the face by a god

Kael’s DiscoveryKael stumbled through what was left of his command tent. Honestly, it looked like a tornado had partied in there and forgot to leave. His hands shook as he shoved aside busted tables and papers that fluttered everywhere. The crystal staff? Toast. Lying in pieces next to the altar, both of them looking like the morning after a bad night. That weird silver fire thing had burned out whatever nasty magic was in there, and yeah, it even got into this dark corner.His head throbbed. Not just the usual hangover kind of pain, but the sort that comes when you’ve been stuck in a cave for months and someone suddenly rips open the roof. Flashes hit him, little gut-punches of memory. The village he torched, just for the hell of it. The prisoners he’d messed with, because he could. The sister… yeah, that sister, the one he’d planned to sell off for his twisted games.“The web,” he gasped, clutching his head. Crap, he finally got it. “She didn’t just fight back. She made the corrup