บททั้งหมดของ Mine to keep, mine to break : บทที่ 111 - บทที่ 120

Myron I don’t remember breathing as I carried Nalini in my arms.One second she was smiling at me under the warm glow of the street lanterns, her fingers still curled in mine from when I’d finally confessed the truth I’d buried in my chest for months…The next second her body had gone rigid—her breath shattered—and a surge of power so violent it felt like a psychic explosion had burst from her skin.I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. Instinct took over.I scooped her up the moment her knees buckled, ignoring the way people around us gasped and stepped back. My wolf was snarling, pacing, terrified—not of what she released, but that she wasn’t waking up. That her lashes stayed still. That her lips parted but no sound came out.“Nalini. Stay with me,” I whispered, gripping her closer.She didn’t answer.I ran.My private penthouse wasn’t far—top floor, restricted access, a place no one could enter without my permission. I’d renovated it myself after my father tried to “surprise” me one

Myron I had not slept.The city outside the penthouse had dimmed into that hollow, predawn gray where even the loudest streets seemed to hold their breath, and Nalini lay curled on my bed like something too fragile to exist in this world. Her breathing was shallow but steady now, her lashes dark crescents against skin that still looked too pale for my liking. Every few minutes my wolf stirred, restless, pushing at my chest as if it could crawl out of me and wrap itself around her.I had promised her answers.And promises, to me, were not words. They were blood-deep.I left her only after I set wards and alarms—old instincts, drilled into me from years of being the bastard who had to protect himself because no one else would. I stepped into the adjoining room, closed the glass doors quietly, and leaned my forehead against the cold wall.Then I called Timothy.He answered on the third ring, his voice sharp, controlled in that way that always told me he was holding too much inside.“Wha

Myron I had always known danger wore a hundred faces, but I had never imagined one of them would be fear sitting quietly in Nalini’s eyes.She told me everything in a rush at first, words tripping over themselves, her hands clenched in the fabric of my shirt as if letting go would send her tumbling into something bottomless. Then she slowed, breath hitching, and forced herself to explain again—properly this time. Selene. Julie. The way their voices had dropped when they thought no one was listening. The words contamination and royal bloodline whispered like curses instead of concerns. The intent beneath them sharp enough to cut.I listened without interrupting, even though my wolf was already pacing, snarling, slamming itself against the inside of my ribs. Every instinct I possessed demanded blood, demanded protection, demanded I lock her away somewhere no one could ever reach her again. But I stayed still. I let her speak. I let her finish.When she was done, silence settled between

Timothy She seemed smaller than the Nalini I’d seen in my dream, more human, more fragile. There were faint shadows under her eyes, like sleep hadn’t been kind to her lately. She wore one of Myron’s sweaters, the sleeves too long for her arms, the scent of him wrapped around her.The sight hurt more than I expected.But fear pushed past it.“I need to talk to you,” I said. My voice came out rougher than I intended. “Now.”Something in my tone must have warned her, because she didn’t argue. She nodded and led me further inside, sitting across from me on the couch. She folded her hands in her lap, waiting.That patience nearly broke me.I dragged a hand through my hair and exhaled slowly. “I had a dream.”Her brow furrowed. “A dream?”“It wasn’t just a dream,” I said. “It was… a vision. Or something close to it.”The bond stirred between us at my words, tightening slightly, like it recognized the truth even before she did.I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “I saw you. And Myron. An

Nalini I had volunteered to be a strategist because it felt safer than standing in the arena itself. Or maybe that was a lie I told myself to feel useful without being seen too clearly. Either way, the Academy’s Alpha Games turned the entire grounds into something feral and electric, and there was no hiding anywhere—not even on the strategist’s platform.The morning air had carried iron and dust, the kind that clung to the back of the throat. Wolves paced everywhere in half-shifted states, muscles coiled too tightly beneath skin, eyes glowing faintly with anticipation. The Alpha Games were not a tournament, not officially. They were training. Preparation. But everyone knew what they really were: a display of dominance, control, and restraint—or the lack of it.I stood with a slate pressed to my chest, fingers digging into the wood as if it could anchor me. Below, the field had been divided into zones—forest simulation, urban ruins, open combat ring. Each team rotated through them, te