Lahat ng Kabanata ng Chain My Heart Too, Gamma: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

∆∆∆Lala I scoff, “Tch, such a disappointment… but what did I expect from the coldest man in all the territory? He didn’t even blink before wiping out his maternal pack…” The words are barely out when he slams the file down so hard the air leaves my lungs. The sound cracks through the room, sharp, loud, like a damn gunshot. The walls tremble a little. My smirk freezes halfway. His hand stays flat on the table, fingers splayed, veins pulsing against his skin. His jaw ticks, that cold rage settling behind his eyes. Well… fuck. I might’ve pushed too far this time. The door bursts open almost immediately, and I jerk my head toward it. “What the fuck, Kael?” a man in a gray suit blurts out, his eyes darting between us. “Are you okay? What the hell did you do, you little—” He cuts off when he notices me sitting there, chained and smiling. “Woah! Are you freaking serious?” I snap, tilting my head with mock disbelief. “I should be the one you’re asking if I’m okay. Look at me, the

∆∆∆ Kael I light another cigarette even though the one between my fingers hasn’t burned out yet. The smoke curls lazily in the air, soft and bitter, biting the back of my throat. I don’t care. I drag hard, because if I don’t, the silence in this damn office will crawl into my head and stay there. That woman dared to mention the one thing I’ve spent ten years trying to bury. Her voice full of mockery echoes in my mind. “He didn’t even blink before wiping out his maternal pack…” Stephen’s been standing by the door for five minutes now, pretending to go over the daily reports. I can feel his eyes on me though. He doesn’t say anything until I take another drag, exhale, and mutter under my breath, “That mouth of hers will get her killed someday.” He shifts uncomfortably before answering, “You shouldn’t have agreed to guard that bitch, sir. Everyone knows Alpha Josen sent you here for a reason.” I look up at him, my expression unreadable. “You think I don’t know that?” He

KaelI bring my own clothes, a black long sleeve T-shirt and pants, simple enough, but looking at her now, standing completely naked in front of me, I wonder if they’ll even fit. She’s smaller than I thought. Then my eyes catch the scars on her body—faint, some deep, some almost gone, but all of them old enough to tell just how much she’s suffered inside those prison walls. Ten years in captivity, and yet she still manages to stand like she hasn’t been broken. It’s almost interesting… scratch that, it's fucking interesting.She looks fragile in one light and untouchable in another. There’s something about her that doesn’t make sense, something that keeps me staring even when I shouldn’t.Her voice snaps me back before my thoughts go too far. “If you’re looking,” she adds with a smirk in her voice, “at least have the decency to get hard or blush.”I realize too late that I’ve been staring. I turn away quickly, pretending to look for something on the table beside me. My jaw tightens bec

LalaThe names hit me like a slap. For a moment, I just sit there, blinking, my mind blank. The little girl’s voice echoes faintly in the dim basement, soft but bright, like a light sneaking through cracks in a wall. I glance up, unsure if I really heard right. Rosella.Kael doesn’t move. He’s crouched on the stairs, still watching me with that unreadable expression, his shadow stretching across the cold floor. The girl’s small hands are wrapped around his arm, tugging gently, her dark hair brushing his shoulder as she looks at him, then at me again.She’s talking fast, words spilling out in that careless way children do when they’re excited. Her tone is light, curious. “Uncle Kael, is she really the Blood Widow?”Her voice trembles with something between fear and fascination.Kael doesn’t answer. His jaw tightens, but his eyes flick toward me sharply. Why is he looking at me like that?“Blood Widow…” I murmur under my breath, almost amused. It’s not the first time I’ve heard it, but

KaelThe healer Pat moves around the room quietly, her hands never still. I can smell the herbs before she even opens her bag—strong, earthy, with a hint of bitterness that clings to the air. She presses her palm against Lala’s forehead, frowns, then pulls the blanket down to her waist.“Hold her still,” she says without looking at me.I obey, one hand on Lala’s shoulder. She’s still pale, her breathing uneven, and every few minutes she coughs weakly, as if her body is fighting invisible hands strangling her from the inside.Pat lifts the edge of the sheet covering her legs. “Oh… we have to take these off and inspect her body.” She says as she realizes she’s still in the pants and shirt I gave her while we were still in Blackridge.I nod. I can’t argue; I have no idea what she suspects could be the problem. I had thought maybe food poisoning or just strains from prison, but she’s spent years in there—how could it show up now? I look away—the sound of buttons and the little groans Lala