All Chapters of Chains Of The Heart: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

It was deep into the night when Damian finally returned.He found Nathan still on the floor—eyes red, half a bottle of wine spilled beside him. The room smelled of alcohol and despair.“Nathan,” Damian said softly, kneeling beside him.Nathan didn’t even look up. “You’re late,” he slurred, lifting the bottle as if to toast him. “Celebrating my own genius. I ruin everything and yet—look!—still breathing.”Damian crossed the room in three strides, crouching to take the bottle. Nathan wrenched it back like a cornered animal.“Enough,” Damian said, not unkindly, fingers brushing Nathan’s wrist. “Your head will split in the morning.”Nathan laughed, but it was hollow and sharp. “Why do you do that? Why do you… talk like that?” He took another long drag from the bottle, eyes glassy. “You should yell. Or leave. Or—anything. Anything but this calm.”Damian reached again, firmer now. “Drinking yourself sick won't unmake anything that happened.”“That’s the problem,” Nathan muttered, voice crac

Damian turned, meaning to leave—but Nathan caught his wrist before he could take a single step.“Please,” Nathan whispered, voice raw.Damian didn’t turn.“No.”It was a single word, quiet but absolute.Nathan’s breath hitched. A tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it. He stepped closer, the plea in his eyes breaking something deep and helpless between them.“Why, Damian? Just tell me why.”Damian faced him then, his gaze soft but unyielding.“Because this isn’t what you want, Nathan. It’s what’s expected of you.”Nathan went still, as if the world had suddenly dropped out from under him. The words hit harder than any anger could.Damian’s voice gentled.“I’ve forced enough on you since the day we were married. I won’t do it again.”He stepped closer, closing the space Nathan had tried to bridge moments ago. His hand came up, rough but trembling slightly as it cupped Nathan’s face. His thumb brushed the trail of that single tear.“If being in this marriage is truly what

The latch on the balcony door clicked open with a soft groan of old hinges. Nathan startled—his pulse already wild—but the moment the moonlight caught on armor, the familiar silhouette made his breath hitch with relief rather than fear.“Silas?”The captain stepped inside soundlessly, his dark cloak trailing frost from the night air. His expression, as always, was unreadable—but his eyes darted to Nathan’s disheveled form on the floor, the pale tremor in his hands.“My lord,” Silas said quietly, closing the door behind him. “I saw your candle still lit. Thought I’d make sure you hadn’t decided to throw yourself from the balcony.”Nathan gave a brittle laugh, the sound breaking halfway. “Tempting, but no. Not yet.”Silas moved closer, crouching beside him. “What happened?”Nathan’s throat tightened. He met the man’s gaze, saw the faint gleam of concern beneath all that stoicism—and for once, he didn’t hold back.“They’re planning something,” he whispered, voice shaking. “My father and

It started with a sound.A low, muffled crack — like wood splitting under strain.Nathan frowned, glancing up from the desk. He’d been reading one of the letters Silas had brought him, trying to piece together just how far his father’s treachery reached. The ink had barely dried when the scent hit him — faint, acrid, wrong.Smoke.He stood so fast the chair scraped the floor. For a heartbeat, he thought he was imagining it. Then came another sound — a rush, a hiss — followed by the unmistakable orange glow bleeding beneath his door.“...no.”He ran for the handle, yanked it open——and the heat punched him in the face like a living thing. The hallway was already a tunnel of flame. Tapestries screamed as they burned. The air shimmered.Nathan stumbled back, coughing, slamming the door shut again. His mind spun. The balcony. He turned and rushed toward it, flinging the curtains aside—But the balcony doors had been bolted from the outside.He slammed his shoulder against them once, twice

Alessio had stormed through the palace like a man possessed. The entire corridor trembled beneath his boots as he barked at every servant and guard in sight, demanding to know where his nephew had gone. The council chamber stood empty, Lucien’s papers scattered across the table like fallen leaves—plans, maps, reports—all marked with the same sigil: Cross Territory.By the time Alessio found Lucien, the man was already standing by the window, looking out over the capital with his usual tight-lipped disdain.“He’s gone,” Lucien said without turning around. “Left before dawn with half the royal guard and no explanation.”Alessio slammed his hand against the doorframe. “The boy’s gone mad. The entire border is a trap waiting to snap, and he’s marching right into it!”Lucien gave a low, humorless chuckle. “When has our dear king ever been accused of patience? He received Alistair Mercer’s message and decided that fury travels faster than diplomacy.”“Damn fool,” Alessio muttered, dragging