Star-Crossed Wolves: Silver Moon Rising의 모든 챕터: 챕터 181 - 챕터 190

POV: ProsperoThe hearing room was smaller than I'd expected for something that would determine the rest of my life.Council members sat in a semicircle, their expressions ranging from curious to hostile. Principal Lear presided as neutral arbiter, though his sympathies clearly lay with reform rather than punishment. And in the gallery, Miranda and Ferdinand watched with barely concealed anxiety."Prospero," Lear began formally. "You stand accused of multiple violations. Unauthorized teaching of banned magic. Illegal experimentation with reality manipulation. Conspiracy to hide your daughter's abilities from Council oversight. And violation of exile terms by returning to protected territory. How do you plead?""Guilty to all charges," I said simply. "With context that explains motivation if not justification."The room erupted in whispers. They'd expected me to fight, to argue technicalities, to deploy the same political maneuvering that had kept me alive through decades of exile.In

POV: Bea SharpeBen's injuries healed slower than mine.The wounds from protecting me during the Council wolves' attack had been deep, requiring extensive magical healing and physical therapy. Three weeks later, he still moved carefully, favoring his left side where claws had nearly punctured vital organs."Stop hovering," he said as I adjusted his pillows for the third time. "I'm recovering, not dying.""You almost died. I'm allowed to hover.""You're allowed to sit down and stop treating me like I'm made of glass."I sat, but couldn't stop watching him for signs of pain or discomfort. The memory of his blood pooling around us was too fresh. The terror of thinking I'd lose him right after admitting I loved him haunted every quiet moment."We should talk about what happens next," I said. "After you're fully healed.""What happens next is we figure out if what we have can exist outside of crisis mode. If our relationship survives when nobody's trying to kill us.""You think it won't?"

POV: Ian GrecoThe transfer to maximum security supernatural detention happened at midnight.No fanfare, no press, just guards escorting me from temporary holding to the facility that would be my home for the next twenty years. My parents hadn't visited. My father's political allies had abandoned his sinking ship. Even the lawyers who'd initially offered to defend me had withdrawn when public opinion turned decisively against my family.I was alone. Truly alone for the first time in my life."Cell block seven," the guard announced, shoving me forward. "High security. No contact with general population. You're isolated for everyone's protection.""Protecting them from me or me from them?" I asked."Both. You've made enough enemies that general population would kill you within a week. And you're manipulative enough that isolation is the only way to prevent you from orchestrating new schemes."The cell was exactly what I'd expected. Small, sterile, monitored constantly. No privacy, no au

POV: Miranda ProsperoThree months after Ian's sentencing, campus life had returned to something resembling normal.Classes resumed with modified curriculum that included mandatory training on psychological manipulation resistance. The damaged warehouse district stood as memorial to what had happened, reality permanently fractured in places as reminder of the cost of unchecked power. And students who'd survived the semester carried scars both visible and hidden."You're staring again," Ferdinand said, breaking my concentration."I'm observing. There's a difference.""You're overthinking. Wondering if everyone's really healing or just pretending until they break."He wasn't wrong. I'd spent weeks watching how people interacted, looking for signs that Ian's manipulation had lasting effects. Otto still flinched at raised voices. Desi checked exits obsessively. Bea and Ben orbited each other like they were afraid getting too close would trigger another crisis."We're all damaged," I said.

POV: Desi WhitmoreI woke up screaming for the third time that week.The nightmare was always the same. Otto standing on that cliff edge, seconds from jumping. Me arriving too late. His body disappearing over the edge before I could reach him.Except that wasn't what happened. I'd reached him in time. Cassio had talked him down. Dr. Morrison had intervened with emergency therapy. Otto was alive and recovering.But my brain couldn't stop replaying the alternate version where I'd been seconds slower. Where survivor's guilt had won and I'd lost him permanently."You're doing it again," my roommate said groggily. "The nightmare thing.""Sorry. I'll try to keep it down.""That's not what I meant. You should talk to someone. Dr. Morrison, maybe. This has been going on for weeks.""I'm fine.""You're clearly not fine. You almost lost Otto and now you can't stop imagining that you did lose him."She wasn't wrong. The trauma of almost losing him felt worse than if he'd actually died in some w