Lahat ng Kabanata ng Rise Of The Silver Wolf: Kabanata 111 - Kabanata 120

I moved toward the sink, my hands gripping the porcelain edges as I looked at my reflection. My eyes were rimmed with red, and the single tear had left a faint, salty trail down my cheek. I reached for the tap and turned on the water, the cool sound filling the small room. But as I cupped my hands, I froze. I looked closer at my face. Jasmine had spent so much time on my makeup, her eyes shining with excitement as she told me how beautiful I looked. If I washed my face now, I’d be washing away all her hard work. Beyond that, I’d be breaking the promise I made to myself when I pulled those curtains open this morning. I had told myself I was done drowning in the past. If I walked back out there with a bare, blotchy face, the past would win. "I just need to put myself back together," I whispered to the mirror. I couldn't hurt Jasmine’s feelings, and I couldn't let my own resolve crumble over a few tears. I took a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs until my chest felt tight.

I cried until my eyes became heavy and drowsy, the kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones and makes every movement feel like an impossible task. I didn't force myself to do anything anymore. I didn't try to stop the tears, didn't try to be strong, didn't try to pull myself together for the sake of the celebration happening somewhere far below me. At this very moment, I was not strong. I was just a woman curled up on a rug, mourning a life that felt like it had been shattered a dozen times over. Eventually, the world faded away into a dark, dreamless void, and I cried myself to sleep right there on the floor. When I finally woke up, the room was bright. I checked the time and realized it was midday; I had slept through the rest of the morning. My body was stiff from sleeping against the hard wood of the door, every muscle protesting as I picked myself up. I felt sluggish, my head throbbing with a dull ache that usually followed a night of heavy sobbing. I moved slowly into th

I dashed out of my room, the quiet of the house spurring me into a hurried pace. My bare feet made no sound against the floor as I moved through the hallway. I glanced at Silvia’s door, but it remained firmly closed, and I didn't stop to knock. My focus was entirely on the silence coming from the ground floor. I needed to know what had happened to the celebration, to the life that had been buzzing through the house only hours earlier. I reached the top of the staircase and was about to head straight downstairs when Alexa’s voice cut through my panic like a physical barrier. Wait, she commanded. I halted, my hand gripping the banister so hard the wood bit into my palm. I stood perfectly still, letting her lend me her heightened hearing, letting the world beyond my own heartbeat come into focus. At first, there was only the sound of breathing—many people, gathered in one place, holding their collective breath. And then, I heard it. A single voice was speaking from downstairs, rising

When we finally pulled apart, the heavy, suffocating silence of the hall didn’t just break—it shattered. The crowd suddenly roared into life. It was a physical wall of sound, a mixture of screams, deep howls of approval, and a thunderous round of claps that echoed off the high ceilings. For a second, it was overwhelming, but I didn't pull away completely. I leaned forward, placing my head against Adrian's chest. I wanted to shut out the noise of the world and hear only the steady, rhythmic sound of his heartbeat. It was fast, echoing my own, a reminder that underneath the titles and the history, he was just as humanly terrified as I was. I felt his arm snake around my shoulder, holding me with a gentle firmness, while his other hand moved up to caress my cheek. His touch was hesitant, as if he were still waiting for me to pull back or strike him again, but he didn't let go. I shifted slightly, looking up toward the front of the hall. My parents were standing together, holding each

Silvia appeared at my door a few minutes later, her presence a quiet, familiar comfort. She didn't need to say anything; the look in her eyes told me it was time for lunch. I stood up, smoothing out my clothes, and followed her out into the hallway. We walked down the grand staircase in a companionable silence, the kind that only exists between people who truly understand one another. There were no forced conversations or awkward attempts to fill the air. Just genuine, easy smiles shared between us as we descended toward the dining hall. As we moved through the common areas, the usual shift in the room occurred. Pack members paused in their tracks, bowing their heads in a display of deep-rooted submission as I passed by. In the past, this gesture had always sparked a flicker of internal conflict. I used to feel a strange mix of confusion and guilt, as if I were pretending to be someone I wasn't, forcing myself to mimic the grace and authority expected of my position. Today, however,