บททั้งหมดของ CHASING MONSTERS: บทที่ 81 - บทที่ 90

(Ronans Pov) Ronan woke at first light, a smile on his face. He was overseeing Veronica’s removal from the castle. Out beside the East Gate. He had stationed extra guards, anticipating a scene. He stepped into her chamber without knocking. “Sorry to be a bother, Veronica, but you are to be moved immediately.” A smile appeared on Veronica’s face. “The King has finally come to his senses,” she smirked like the cat that got the cream.” Ronan gave her a moment before he let the axe fall. “You will be moved to a small hunting lodge out by the east gate, where you will remain under armed guard.” Veronica's face fell. Ronan could have almost felt sorry for her if he didn't know what a witch lay buried underneath that beauty. He could see her working herself into a rage. “Stop,” he said. Save the tears and the tantrums. The King won’t be here to see, and I don’t care for them. You can walk there yourself under armed guard and save what little dignity you have left, or you can wail and scr

(Veronicas Pov) The silence in her chambers was unbearable. No laughter. No perfume. No soft murmur of her ladies fussing with ribbons and combs. Just a hollow emptiness. She was ruined. All because of that dog Sophie. Once, she’d ruled the castle like a queen. Her word had been law. The servants trembled when she spoke. Now she didn’t even dwell there, cast out like a disease. Her hands trembled as she brushed her own hair, a task she hadn’t done herself in years. The silver mirror on her vanity reflected not the shining consort of a King, but a ghost. Her eyes were hollow, her skin too pale. Rage burned through the cracks in her composure. He moved me out like I was filth. The brush snapped in her hand. After everything, the years of loyalty, the nights of devotion, the whispered reassurances in the dark, discarded like a concubine past her use. The guards at her door wouldn’t even let her leave. “He’ll regret this,” she whispered to her reflection. “They’ll all regret it.”

I left the warmth of the pack house, their easy laughter stoking the ache in my chest. My heart felt empty, hollow. By the bank where the water ran, I could practice. Here, I could finally make the world answer to me. My mate had promised to come, but at this late hour, I knew he wouldn’t. I tried to brush away nagging thoughts of him with Veronica, happy with their soon-to-be child. I cupped my hands around a coil of air and willed frost to gather. As it came, like breath on a mirror shivering at my fingers, the ache inside me dulled with awe. The ground beneath my boots shuddered, veins of ice racing out, dazzling me as they crowned me like diamonds—reminding me I still had power, even if my heart felt empty. The wind scattered the ice into a glittering veil, and wonder briefly pushed away my grief. Controlling it was a practice in restraint. The more my emotions fell, the more the ice around me grew. I thought of the King again. The want and need I felt. That I wanted to erase as

Jax stared at the casket, frozen. Something inside was alive. Moving. Breathing. The sound came again, faint but sure, a scrape of nails on wood. Mama Delphine threw her head back and laughed, that wild, musical cackle that made the swamp itself shiver. “Well, somebody betta let her out, cher,” she said, grinning wide. “Can’t keep a lady locked up all day. She get mighty cranky when she wake hungry!” She clapped her hands together. “Ma sweet sister. Lawd, I done missed dat girl.” Jax swallowed hard. His stomach rolled like he’d swallowed swamp water. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t anything he’d seen before. Lucian’s cold voice broke the moment. “Open it.” The recruits didn’t move. Not one. The air was so thick with fear it had shape. One of the younger ones whimpered. Jax saw the dark stain spreading down the boy’s leg and, honestly, didn’t blame him, his own bladder was considering surrender. The swamp wind sighed through the trees, rattling the bone charms overhead. The world

The silence in the safehouse was heavy. Kofi sat at the edge of the table, cigar smoldering between his fingers. Smoke curled in the air. Ryder leaned against the window, arms folded tight, his reflection glinting off the cracked glass. In the corner sat Harris. He nursed a flask and muttered prayers that had long since lost their power. “Someone say something,” I said finally, because the silence was eating at me. Kofi blew a slow ring of smoke. “You want me to start with the good news or the bad?” “There’s good news?” Ryder muttered. Kofi shrugged. “We’re still breathing. That counts for something.” Ryder gave a sharp laugh. “Barely.” The pregnant woman sat on the couch with her knees tucked up, eyes too wide for comfort. Her hands rested protectively over the curve of her stomach, like she could shield both herself and the life inside her from the world we’d just seen. “What the fuck do we do now?” Ryder finally said. “We just gonna sit around here and play house?” “Well, w