All Chapters of Marked in the Middle: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The smell of iron and smoke clung to the night like a curse. My throat burned with it, every breath carrying the stench of blood, fire, and something older—like the earth itself had cracked open beneath the stronghold and bled out its secrets.I crouched in the rubble, my hands shaking as I picked through the broken stones where the Moonfire Pendant had shattered. Splinters of silver light still clung to the dust, fading as though they’d never been real. Just a trick of the gods. Just another lie.“Nothing,” I whispered. My fingers scraped uselessly at the dirt until my nails cracked. “It’s gone.”Roman’s shadow fell across me. He was breathing heavily, a streak of ash smeared across his jaw, his shirt ripped from the fight. “It didn’t vanish,” he said, his voice tight. “It went somewhere.”The rage inside me burned brighter than the fires still chewing through the stronghold. “You don’t know that.”“I do,” he snapped, eyes flaring that d

The city didn’t wake the same that morning.Viremont had a pulse, a rhythm that usually thrummed beneath the chaos — the chatter of vendors, the hum of cars, the distant clang of industry — but not today. Today, it felt muted. Suspicious. Like the whole city was waiting for something to break.Roman’s SUV tore through the cracked streets, tires screeching as he swerved into the abandoned warehouse district. My hands were still shaking when we rolled to a stop, the metallic tang of smoke still clinging to my clothes from the vault’s explosion.“Out,” Roman ordered, scanning the surroundings through the windshield. “We can’t stay in the open.”Kellen was already out of the passenger seat, gun drawn, eyes scanning the rooftops. “We lost them on the main road, but they’ll be regrouping. They’ll come after her first.”“Let them,” I said, stepping out, voice cold. “At least I’ll see their faces this time.”Roman shot me a look — the kind th

Light swallowed everything.It wasn’t blinding—it was consuming. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if I was breathing, falling, or floating. Then the ground found me again, solid and cold beneath my knees.When the light faded, we were standing on the edge of a forest that didn’t belong to this century. The air was thick with the scent of iron and rain, the trees too tall, the shadows too alive. It was the kind of place that remembered everything that ever bled on its soil.Kael staggered beside me, his breath sharp. “Where the hell are we?”I turned slowly, taking it in—the moon, massive and red, hanging low like an eye that never blinked. “We’re not in Viremont anymore,” I whispered. “I think… we’re in the beginning.”He frowned. “The beginning of what?”“Of us. Of the bloodlines.”The pendant around my neck pulsed faintly, glowing the same deep crimson as the moon. The mark on my wrist burned in response, like it recognized th

The night air tasted like iron and regret.Nora stood on the cracked rooftop of the Silver Ash stronghold, the moon hanging low and heavy above her like a silent witness. The city stretched out in smoke and ruin — buildings half-burned, streets stained with the chaos of the packs’ final clash. Below her, faint sounds of groaning metal and wounded wolves echoed through the dark. It was over. The war had ended… but not cleanly.She touched the pendant at her neck — the royal insignia, now smeared with her own blood. Its pulse had gone quiet. No more whispers from the dead Lunas. No more visions of past queens or silver flames guiding her steps. Just silence.A part of her missed it already. The other part finally breathed.Kael’s voice broke through the night behind her. “You’re bleeding again.”Nora didn’t turn. “It’ll stop. Eventually.”He moved closer, his boots scraping over concrete. “You said that three hours ago.”“And I was right three hours ago.”He sighed, stepping beside her.

The catacombs of Viremont had always been a place whispered about, never explored. Most thought they were ruins from the old wars — tunnels of forgotten kings, filled with bones and ghosts. But Nora knew better. These were no ordinary ruins. They were the heart of what Roman had tried to bury.The air was thick as she and Kael stepped through the shattered archway, torches in hand. Dust rained from the cracked ceiling, and their boots crunched over old stones slick with condensation. The further they went, the colder it became — not the kind of cold that made you shiver, but the kind that sank into your marrow and whispered, you shouldn’t be here.Kael’s light flickered over carvings on the wall. Symbols. Ancient pack sigils twisted together — Silver Ash, Iron Fang, Moonveil, all carved in a spiral that led downward.“Roman did this,” Kael muttered. “He sealed them all together.”Nora nodded, brushing her fingers over one of the markings. The stone pulsed faintly beneath her touch. “N