All Chapters of Wolf Rachael : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The silence that had settled between Elias and me was thick with unanswered questions, the heavy air pressing down on us like a suffocating weight.My mind raced, still grappling with the details he'd already shared. My heart pounded as I processed the fragments of his confession: someone close to my mother had sent him, and his true purpose had been to protect me. Yet, even as my doubt had faded, the need for more information gnawed at me, growing ever more urgent. The question that had lingered at the edge of my mind since his first words bubbled to the surface. What more was Elias hiding?I felt the emptiness of the cell more sharply now, the cold stone walls closing in around me. The oppressive silence made it harder to breathe, and it felt like I was being smothered by the weight of everything unsaid.My body tensed, every muscle coiled as I tried to keep my composure. But inside, I was a storm of emotions—confusion, anger, fear. And above all, an insatiable hunger for the tr

The sound of Rochelle’s boots vanished down the stone corridor like a storm retreating into the distance, leaving behind the oppressive vacuum of her presence. I didn’t move from where I sat, back pressed against the cold brick wall, but my fingers slid along the damp grooves in the stone, counting seconds, listening for any lingering echo. Elias crouched across from me, dragging the tip of a broken nail along the chalky symbols he had scratched into the floor. He didn’t speak. He hadn’t spoken since she left. There was nothing to say. The escape routes had shifted again. The map—more scars than drawing now—showed fewer openings than it did yesterday. The trapdoor had been bolted shut, the drain sealed. Our window was shrinking. Elias’s eyes flicked to the upper vents; I followed his gaze. Dust trembled there in a single shaft of light, but no wind passed through. Still, he nodded once to himself. Calculating. Not hoping. He drew another mark. I memorized it without needing to ask.

The wheels grated like jagged teeth over iron rails, every bump and lurch dragging silver deeper into my skin where the manacles kissed bone. The metal cart I’d been thrown into wasn’t standard—it was reinforced, stitched with silver filaments so thin you couldn’t see them until your skin began to bubble. My wrists were locked above my head, my ankles chained to the corners of the base, splayed like an offering to a god I didn’t worship.There were no spoken words, no barking commands, just the breathing of three guards whose armor stank of soot and stress. One kept scratching his neck as if the collar of his shirt was choking him. Another had the trembling hand of someone coming off an adrenaline high. They didn’t look at me, not really. They stared past me, like I wasn’t the threat anymore—but something behind us was. Something that had burned the edge of their calm. I kept my eyes forward, counting the seconds between tunnel vibrations. Every echo told me something: we weren’t ab

The steady rhythm of footsteps echoes through the stone corridors, each beat like a death knell counting down my remaining hours. I know those steps—deliberate, confident, predatory. They belong to someone who believes they've already won. The artificial sweetness hits me next, that nauseating blend of vanilla and rotting lilac that clings to her like a funeral shroud.My muscles tense involuntarily as Kelly's silhouette appears beyond the iron bars, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. She stands there in her pristine robes, untouchable and triumphant, while I'm chained like an animal in this dark cell. Her eyes gleam with malicious satisfaction as she drinks in the sight of me—the last Ghost Wolf, reduced to this. The irony isn't lost on either of us. Once, my kind ruled these lands with ancient magic flowing through our veins like liquid starlight. Now I'm nothing more than a prize to be claimed, a resource to be harvested. Kelly's smile widens as she savors this moment, this re

The dream comes like a whisper of moonlight cutting through the suffocating darkness of my cell. One moment I'm pressing my bloodied ankle against the stone wall, working at the crack in my shackle, and the next I'm standing in a forest that doesn't exist in any earthly realm. Ancient trees tower around me, their silver bark gleaming with an inner light that makes my Ghost Wolf blood sing with recognition. The air here tastes of starlight and wild freedom, everything this dungeon is not. My chains are gone, my wounds healed, and for the first time in days, I can breathe without tasting despair. A figure emerges from between the trees—tall, regal, with eyes like liquid amber and hair that flows like captured moonbeams. The Mother Ghost Wolf. She moves with the fluid grace of wind through leaves, her presence both comforting and terrible in its power. I've seen her before in dreams and visions, but never this clearly, never with such urgent purpose burning in her ancient gaze. "M