Semua Bab My Alpha, My Mate, My Ruin.: Bab 41 - Bab 50

Drake’s povI stood by the window of the pack hall, but my focus wasn't on the sunset, it was on the clock. Seven five. She was late, which, for Betsy, meant she was meticulously agonizing over every detail of her appearance, which only made me want to crash the whole ritual and remind her that she was already perfect."You look ridiculous," Nick observed from the couch, where he was pretending to read Pack reports. "It's a date, not a Summit. Stop checking your cuff links.""I am checking for defects in the stitching," I lied smoothly. "As Alpha, I must maintain quality control.""Right. And I'm checking for defects in your personality. It appears terminal."I ignored him, my thoughts snapping back to Betsy. She’d been quieter, more withdrawn. Every time she mentioned the prophecy, I heard the faint snip of a thread she was preparing to cut. I couldn't allow that. Tonight, I had to be flawless, irresistible, and distracting. I had to remind her that the most powerful thing in her lif

Betsy’s povThe cold air hit me with brutal clarity the moment I dropped from the window and landed silently in the mulch below. The scent of pine and damp earth filled my lungs, momentarily overriding the sharp, lingering agony of the severed connection. I placed the small, pulsing control ward into the deepest pocket of my jacket. He’s still asleep. He hasn't found the letter yet. That thought was the only mercy I allowed myself.I ran. Not in my wolf form, that would leave too clear a scent and consume too much energy for a journey of unknown length. I ran on two legs, relying on the endurance of my Starblood powers, using the cover of the dense Lanemoon forest.Every few hundred yards, the psychic pain would spike, a phantom ache in my chest that made me gasp. It was the bond protesting, stretching thin, fighting the separation. Each spike was a reminder of Drake, a taste of his anger, his confusion, his deep-seated instinct to pull me back. I knew that soon, that passive pain wo

Betsy’s povThe ground was cold beneath my cheek. Damp. Smelled like pine and blood, my blood. My limbs refused to move, still burned from the fight. I forced my eyes open to the blur of moonlight filtering through tall trees.Voices echoed somewhere nearby.“Heal her first. She’s losing too much blood.”Footsteps approached. A hand, warm, steady, rested against my arm.I tried to speak, but a groan escaped instead.A familiar voice quietly said, “You’re safe now… Betsy.”That voice.My breath caught.“…Matteo?” I whispered.But darkness dragged me under before I could see his face.When I woke again, everything smelled wrong.Not wrong like danger, wrong like unfamiliar territory. Strange walls. Strange sounds. A steady beeping like a hospital monitor. Soft murmurs outside the door.I bolted upright, wincing at a stab of pain through my ribs. My muscles screamed in protest, every fiber exhausted from the uncontrolled power surge. My Starblood dampener, the small ward I'd created, was

Betsy’s povMy first instinct had been to tear the room apart, to scream, to unleash the Starblood against the unyielding stone walls. He thinks I'm his prisoner. He thinks he can manipulate my fear into obedience.A cold, steely resolve began to replace the panic. Drake had called me a Beta. He called me his Starblood, and if there was one thing I inherited from that cursed bloodline, it was resilience. If Matteo wanted a partner, he would get one. But it would be a partner of my own making, playing my own game.I ran a hand over my still-aching chest, the bond to Drake a muted, almost imperceptible thrum now, thanks to the distance and the forced separation. It was a faint thread, not a lifeline. I needed to act like it was severed entirely.Hours crawled by. My body slowly recuperated, but my mind was in overdrive, dissecting every word Matteo had spoken. Starblood hunting groups. Ritualistic ends. Supreme asset. Darmoon’s highest-value prisoner. The implications were terrifying, p

Betsy’s povThe two days that followed were a blur of cold stone, primal exhaustion, and agonizing growth. There was no rest, no softness, and no reprieve from Matteo’s relentless instruction. He didn’t train me as a Beta or a warrior; he trained me as a force of nature.Our sessions took place deep within the Darmoon complex, in a subterranean cavern carved out of dense, magically reinforced granite. The air was heavy, charged with residual power.“Don’t pull the energy from your center, Betsy! That will burn you out!” Matteo would bark, watching me channel a pathetic, flickering shield. “The Starblood is elemental! Pull from the earth itself! Let the current flow through you, not from you!”He made me practice until my muscles failed, then pushed me further, forcing me to channel the raw energy into devastating, offensive blasts. Drake taught containment; Matteo taught creation. By the first day, I could generate concentrated energy beams that incinerated stone targets. By the seco