All Chapters of CHASING MONSTERS: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

(Ronan’s POV) Shiloh had me on my back and laughing. Not because anything was funny. Because if I didn’t laugh, I’d probably snap the damn ropes and put her through the mattress. “Comfortable?” she asked, tying the last knot around the bedpost. “My wrists are losing feeling,” I said. “But sure. Romantic.” She tugged the bindings once, testing. Hunters’ knots. Smart, tight, no give. “You could get loose if you really wanted to,” she said, watching me. “Couldn’t you?” “Probably.” I flexed my hands just to prove it. The wood creaked. “But I’m curious what you think you’re doing, little hunter.” Her mouth curved. “Taking my turn.” The room was lit low, just a few candles. Outside, the castle was settling into the uneasy quiet that comes after war. Inside my chambers, all I saw was her. Bare legs, bare arms, wearing one of my shirts, and nothing else. She swung a leg over my hips and sat, slow, claiming the position like she was born for it. My wolf liked that. A lot. “You lo

(Veronica’s POV)Veronica’s dead, they call me the Crimson Rogue now.A story whispered across the badlands. A name that crawls into fireside talk when the night’s too quiet. Mothers use it to make pups behave. It’s funny how a lie becomes a legend if you feed it enough blood.I’ve fed it plenty.The Rogue King, Malik, and I have taken two smaller packs in less than a month. No drawn-out sieges. No grand battles. Just ruthlessness and obedience. The strongest of each we kept. The rest we buried.The men follow Malik because he is vicious and brilliant. They follow me because of the fear. We’ve built a new empire out of the scraps of old loyalties. Every name that falls adds to ours. Every surrender spreads the myth further. Crimson Rogue. The woman who makes monsters kneel.Malik stands over them all, tall and bare-chested, tattoos crawling down his arms,one for every life he’s taken. He doesn’t count anymore; there’s no space left.In bed, I watch the ink move under his skin when he

(Ronan’s POV)The safehouse squatted at the edge of the city, pretending to be nothing. Sagging fence. Peeling paint. Curtains pulled tight enough to choke the daylight.Felt about right.Shiloh knocked twice, then once, then twice again.The door jerked open, a rifle barrel appearing first.Kofi glared down at us. At me.“You brought a wolf,” he said.Shiloh grinned. “Correction. I brought my wolf.”“Didn’t order one.”“You’re welcome anyway.”He stared for a beat, then snorted. “Get in before someone decides you’re target practice.”We stepped inside.One cramped room. Faded sofa. Old heater humming. It smelled of sweat, coffee, fear, and baby.Ryder sat at the table, eyes shadowed, stubble rough, fingers wrapped around a mug. Old Man Harris hunched on a chair, working at a whetstone out of habit more than need. On the couch, a woman clutched a baby to her chest, gaze wild and ready to bolt.Her eyes hit me and went wide. “He’s one of them?”“One of us,” Shiloh said, voice steady. “

(Xavier’s POV)Jo and the baby, Riley, were safe in Sophie’s sitting room when I left them, surrounded by maids who loved to fuss. Agatha and Betsy fluttered around like excited hens, cooing at the newborn while Sophie kept trying to shoo them away with a smile.“I’ll join you soon,” she said, brushing her fingers over mine.“Don’t take long,” I told her, and kissed her forehead before I could stop myself.She flushed, beautiful and soft, and that stupid, helpless warmth spread through my chest again. I hated how exposed that made me. I loved it more.But I had work to do.And men who needed reminding that the Wolves had not grown weak.I headed to the training grounds, where Abel, my head warrior, had three new recruits lined up on the sand.Ryder. Kofi. Harris.Hunters.Still alive.Still nervous.Still deciding if they were walking into a trap.The wolves weren’t thrilled either. A ring of them circled the edge of the grounds, arms crossed, jaws tight.“Boss,” Abel said with a nod

(Pandoras pov) I never imagined my life would come to this, standing in a tiny registry office with peeling wallpaper, signing my name next to Ethan’s in cheap black ink, and becoming Mrs. Goodman. No music. No flowers. No guests except Sarah, as our witness, acting like she swallowed a lemon. But Ethan looked at me like I’d hung the moon, and for that one moment, I felt... safe. “Pandora Goodman,” he whispered after the papers were stamped, like he couldn’t believe it. Neither could I. My belly grew faster than I expected. Ethan said I glowed. I said I sweated. He said I walked cute. I threatened to kick him. He kissed me anyway. He doted. Completely. Food brought to me. Chores taken off me. Hands on my back when it hurt. Hands on my belly every night, whispering things to the baby like she could hear him. I’d never been cherished before. Not once. Not like this, not with such tenderness that I found myself believing it might last. Life at the Farm n Feed was hard: long h