Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Curvy Heiress: Lost Werewolf Sister: Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

The war room smelled like coffee, iron, and barely restrained violence. Which, frankly, felt appropriate.Rowan stood at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up, hands braced against the dark wood like he was holding the house together through sheer will. Damon leaned against the window with his arms crossed, watching the grounds like he expected another ambush to leap out of the hedges. Silas was already seated, flipping through a tablet with a scowl carved permanently into his face. Kieran lounged in his chair, boot hooked over one knee, pretending this was all mildly amusing instead of deeply infuriating.I closed the door behind me.Every head snapped up.“Well,” Kieran said lightly, eyes flicking over me. “Look at that. She still walks. Miracle of the century.”“Careful,” I replied, taking a seat. “I’m still in a ripping-hearts-out mood.”That earned me a few grim smiles. Damon’s, especially, was sharp with pride.Rowan’s gaze softened just a fraction. “How is he?”“Healing,” I

Rowan waited for me outside my bedroom door like a man escorting someone to a duel rather than a meeting.“You ready?” he asked, voice neutral. Too neutral. The kind he used when he expected blood.I adjusted the cuff of my jacket, the dark fabric hugging my shoulders just right. Power dressing wasn’t about flash - it was about control. And tonight, I intended to own the room.I stepped into the doorway, paused just long enough to glance back.Cameron lay propped against the headboard, pale but awake, dark hair still damp from the doctor’s last round of potions. He lifted his brow, watching me with that quiet, dangerous focus of his.I winked.“Oh,” I said lightly, “this should be fun.”His lips curved, slow and knowing. “Try not to start a war without me.”“No promises.”Rowan cleared his throat pointedly.I turned and swept past him, heels clicking against marble as we descended the grand staircase together. The mansion felt different tonight - coiled. Waiting.The main hall was alr

Across the hall, the doors creaked open as more guards entered - late, tense, confused by the sudden shift in power. Boots halted. Conversations died mid-breath.The room still smelled like violence.The young Alpha lay groaning at the base of the pillar, not dead - unfortunately - but broken enough to serve as a warning. No one rushed to help him. Not one of his witnesses. Not one ally. In this world, weakness invited silence.Cameron stood motionless at my side, blood seeping steadily through the fabric stretched across his ribs. His breathing was controlled, measured, but I felt it - felt the strain through the bond like a low ache behind my eyes.The older Alpha - silver-haired, sharp-eyed, dangerous in the quiet way - took a slow step backward. His gaze never left Cameron.“Then this gathering,” he said carefully, every word weighed, “has just become something far bigger than proposals and politics.”A ripple moved through the room. Not panic. Not fear. Recognition.He bowed his

Cameron nodded once. No theatrics. No posturing. Just truth - raw and ugly. “Blackridge,” he began. “My pack. Or what’s left of it."The room shifted. Wolves stirred beneath skin. Even the air felt sharper.“Blackridge wasn’t just a pack.” Cameron continued. “It was a border power. Old money. Old land. Old enemies. Pinewood sat right on the edge of it - neutral ground everyone pretended not to notice.”My stomach twisted.“You’re saying Pinewood- ” I started.“ - was a surveillance nest,” he finished. “For years.”Every memory flashed at once. The way I’d always felt watched. The unease I’d blamed on trauma. The paranoia everyone said I was imagining.I wasn’t. Those wolves in shadows were real.Cameron’s gaze stayed on me as he spoke, like he couldn’t bear to look away. “You weren’t unprotected there, Clara. You were… contained.”Silas swore under his breath. I have no idea when he appeared. “Mara knew what mine pack was.” Cameron went on. “She made a deal when she arranged your mot

Next morning I stood in my bedroom, trading silk for steel in my spine.The mansion was awake now. Not loud - Vale never was - but alert in the way predators were alert after blood had been spilled. Doors opened softly. Footsteps passed with purpose. The pack moved like a living organism, pretending this was just another morning while quietly counting exits, weapons, allies.The media could howl. The markets could burn. Crestfall Systems could collapse in a spectacular, very public death spiral.Vale still stood.And I was done reacting.I fastened the cuff of my blouse with precise fingers. Black silk. Clean lines. Nothing soft. Panic was a luxury for people without enemies - and I had too many to indulge.“You’re plotting.”Cameron’s voice came from behind me, rough with sleep and pain and something darker underneath.I didn’t turn right away. I smiled at my reflection first - calm, composed, lethal - then finally faced him.He was propped against the headboard, bare feet tangled in