All Chapters of Chain My Heart Too, Gamma: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Lala I don’t even know how long I stay still after Kael leaves the room, but I’m frozen there, staring at nothing, feeling everything. The mark on my neck keeps pulsing like it has its own damn heartbeat, and every pulse drags something through me — something warm, something steady, something that isn’t mine. His emotions brush against me lightly, like fingertips I didn’t ask for but don’t want to lose. I sit there like an idiot, letting it wash over me because I don’t know how to shut it out. And the worst… or maybe the funniest part… is that I don’t want to shut it out. I press my fingers lightly over the mark. It’s still sore, but in a pleasant way, like a bruise you keep touching because the ache makes you remember something good. I shouldn’t feel this way. I shouldn’t want him. Hell, I shouldn’t even like him. He’s the Gamma in charge of me but he had to be so fucking good at everything? Yeah, lost right there when I’m supposed to be planning how to slit his throat in his sleep

KaelStephen had taken Mabel to the pack clinic as I match to the pack hall, but he isn't here. I ball my hand into a fist, trying not to punch the damn wall. That bastard, where the hell is he? I need to hit him to be calm because right now my whole body feels like it’s buzzing. Mabel looks a mess, and if he hadn't sent her there, none of this would have happened, and I keep replaying the sight of her bruises in my head until it makes my jaw lock so hard it hurts.I push the doors open and walk through the pack house, my boots echoing too loud for my own liking, but I can’t bother lowering my steps. I swear something inside me had cracked the moment I saw her curled like that, holding onto my shirt like she was drowning.As I keep walking, members stare at me in this strange way, like I suddenly grew horns or something. Their eyes follow me, wide, suspicious, confused. I catch two of them whispering behind the corridor, but I try to ignore them even though their eyes burn the side of

KaelI heard little sounds as bright light pierces through the dark, the room spinning gently, the heat crawling through my skin like it owns me. My head feels thick, heavy, too heavy, and the first thing I notice is Stephen sitting beside me, leaning against the wall like he’s been there forever. His face is tense, jaw tight, hisveyes looking drained.“You scared the hell out of me,” he bites out. Poking my chest hard enough. “Rachel called. You… you haven’t opened the door in twenty-four hours.”I flinch at the time frame, my teeth gritting together before I even realize it. Twenty-four hours. A whole goddamn day. My body aches in ways I didn’t even know it could. “I was resting,” I rasp out, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. My throat feels like sandpaper.Stephen shifts closer, crossing his arms loosely, leaning forward on his knees. “Resting? You’ve got a fever so high I thought I’d have to drag you out myself. Did this happen because the prisoner you were guarding decided to

KaelA week later, after searching every corner I can think of and ignoring every single plea Melinda threw at me, I finally reach the outskirts of the local pack territory. It’s less of a pack and more of this crowded gathering of people who don’t belong anywhere else, a mix of mercenaries, rogues, wanderers, and individuals who probably shouldn’t even exist. The air here always smells a bit like smoke and stale alcohol and that weird metallic scent of weapons that never get cleaned enough. If you want information, this is the place. If you want trouble, the place gives you that too without you even trying.I step onto the dirt path leading to the row of buildings, most of them repurposed warehouses or old factories. I pull my hood lower because I know people here like to stare, and even though I don’t care, I don’t want anyone suddenly getting ideas when I’m barely holding myself together. The moment I push open the door to the bar, that familiar rush of loud voices, laughter, clink

KaelI drag myself steadily into the bar, trying to look like someone who isn’t dealing with anything at all, keeping my steps measured… The last thing I need is anyone staring too hard at me or guessing what’s going on under my skin, and even though the dull pull along my side nags at me, I force my body to move like it’s perfectly fine. The noise swallows me the moment I step in, voices overlapping with each other, cups hitting the wooden tables, someone yelling about losing a bet, another one laughing too hard at something that probably isn’t even funny, and for a second I wonder why people in places like this always look like life is nothing but a joke to them when in reality most of them carry more shit than half the named packs combined.“Jack! Jack, you little brat, get back here!” A drunk man yells.I turn in the direction of the shout, mostly because the name is being thrown around like someone’s chasing a runaway goat, and what I see makes me pause. There’s a boy weaving th