All Chapters of CHASING MONSTERS: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

My mate mark burned hard enough to make me nauseous. Every few beats, it yanked me toward the path Xavier had taken, a hook buried deep. I dragged my breath flat and shoved it down. Mama Delphine’s binding held me like wet cloth, clingy, patient, smug. She was in her chair, humming to her bones like always. Jax stood by the open door, jaw tight, ready to bolt or break something. He didn’t know which yet. “Here he come,” Mama sing-songed, her one good eye swivelling towards the door. “Come stomp-stomp like a bull what don’t know he neutered.” The fog didn’t hush for him. It rattled. We heard Lucian long before we saw him, branches snapping, feet punching through mud, a man who came like a problem on purpose. He was yelling before he reached the shack, swearing that somebody would pay. “Don’t,” I warned, because the last thing I needed was her mouth making this worse. She grinned at me, all gums and trouble. “Hush, bébé. We gon’ have us a visit.” Lucian hit the porch like a storm.

(Sophies Pov)The radiator hummed when the wind hit the house. It was the only sound most nights. The chain around my leg was cold, tighter now than before. My wolf was still bound, quiet, small, useless. The power inside me sat heavy and silent, as if waiting for permission that never came. The door creaked open. Jax stepped in. He looked worse than before: dark rings under his eyes, shirt half-buttoned, a smell of whiskey and swamp sweat clinging to him. “Thought you were done running errands,” I said. He dropped a bag on the counter. “Lucian’s got me running fool errands for his madness. One minute I’m finding Pandora, next I’m fetching priests. He’s losing it.” “Good,” I said flatly. “Maybe he’ll walk into the swamp and drown.” He ignored that, pacing instead. “Pandora’s gone. Pregnant. Probably halfway to some coast by now. Coward.” “She’s smart,” I said. “That’s what that is.” His jaw flexed. “She’s selfish. She left me to deal with him alone. And now...” He turned, eyes

(Shilohs Pov) I couldn’t sleep. Hard to sleep when every breath tasted like wolf and him. Ronan. Damn him for standing too close and smelling like smoke and pine, for putting his hand at my throat in that cell and not squeezing, for looking at me like I was both problem and prize. I hated him. My body didn’t get the message. I lay on the bunk, one knee hitched, staring at the bars. The torches down the hall hissed and popped. The castle had gone mostly quiet, those hours where even guards yawned and pretended they weren’t afraid of what moved under the floors. I should have thought about escape. Instead, I thought about his mouth. I pictured the set of his jaw when he’s fighting the urge to smile. The scar by his lip. The heat coming off him like a furnace. The way my skin said yes when he touched me, even while my head said no. Stupid body. Stupid sparks. My mind slid to the way he’d pinned me earlier, the slow press of him crowding me back, his palm warm under my jaw. I felt

(Sophie’s POV) The first thing I heard was someone shouting my name. The second was the unmistakable growl of my uncle William. “Sophie!” The world came back in blurs, trees bending overhead, cold air scraping my throat. My whole body ached. My back was fire and my legs felt like stone. The mark on my neck pulsed in time with my heartbeat, raw and furious. I was now in a soft bed, a hospital bed? Then he was beside me. William. His hands were rough as he gently stroked my forehead, fury stamped across every line of his face. “What in the hell happened to you?” I tried to speak, but my voice cracked. “Lucian… found me again.” He froze. For a heartbeat, everything went silent. Then he stood, towering, breathing hard through his nose. “That bastard. I should’ve finished him when I had the chance.” “Once you’re well enough, you’re coming with me,” he said, voice shaking with rage. “Back to the pack, where you’re safe. “Where am I now?” “A pack hospital, near where we found you

(Veronica’s POV) Day one as head of staff, and the castle woke under her hand. Veronica didn’t walk; she marched. The kitchens stank of grease and laziness. She tipped the slop pots onto the stone floor. "Start over. Men fight better fed like wolves, not pigs. Fresh meat. Pepper. Salt." A tall rogue with a broken nose smirked from the doorway. His eyes lingered, insolent. “You don’t give me orders, pretty girl.” She didn’t blink. “I do now.” He laughed. A mistake. “Twenty lashes,” she said flatly. “Add ten if you argue.” The room went dead quiet. The man stared at her, testing. No one moved. When nobody helped him, he stalked out. By noon, he returned, dragging a stag. The kitchen roared with approval. By sundown, the stew bubbled thick. Bread baked hot. Rogues drank to her name. Even Malik’s eyes lingered as she crossed the yard, her head high. She turned the filth into order. Laundry outside in the sun. Bathrooms scrubbed and clean. Injured soldiers given tools to w