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The Freak Is The Mate Of The Lycan のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

126 チャプター

Ch: 11 The Separation.

His final word, “mine,” was a death sentence.Ares didn't look back. He just walked, carrying me away from the lights of the party, his strides long and impossibly steady. He held me against his chest with one arm, my body screaming in protest, my blood soaking into the fine, dark fabric of his jacket.The world dissolved into a dizzying, nightmarish blur. The sounds of the party faded, replaced by the rhythmic crunch of his boots on the gravel path and my own, ragged breathing. I heard one, single, piercing shriek from the direction of the pack house, a sound of pure agony.Tiana.The whipping had begun.Ares didn’t so much as flinch. He just kept walking, his expression as calm and unbothered as if he were taking an evening stroll. The cold, dark, satisfied part of me was glad. The rest of me was just… numb.I was so light-headed from the pain and blood loss that I barely registered where we were going until he stopped. The gravel turned to grass, and then he was standing bes

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Ch: 12 The Blood Moon Pack.

The truck moved, and it was fast.I was lying in a sticky, cooling puddle of my own blood on his expensive leather seat. The thought gave me a tiny, bitter sliver of satisfaction. I hoped it stained.A solid black partition separated the back seat from the front. I couldn't see him. I couldn't hear him. There was just the low, powerful, and impossibly smooth hum of the engine, a sound that seemed to vibrate in my very bones, resonating with the new, terrifying bond that pulsed beneath my skin.The darkness was absolute. I was a thing in a box, being transported.A sob, dry and hard, ripped out of my chest. It felt like swallowing glass. The image of Riel's face, his eyes going dead as I spat those awful, necessary lies at him, flashed behind my eyes. I’d saved him. I’d saved him by gutting him. The irony was so bitter, I almost choked on it.I cried, but it was a quiet, desperate, ugly sound. I was shaking so hard my teeth chattered. Every tiny bump in the road, every small rut

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Ch: 13 A Cage Without a Lock.

I sat in the velvet chair, rigid, listening to the sound of my own blood dripping onto the polished stone floor.The silence of the room was a living, breathing thing. It was a cold, heavy presence that pressed in on me from all sides. Back at the Hawthorne estate, I could always hear something—the wind in the trees, the distant shouts from the training grounds, the clatter of the kitchens.Here? Nothing. An absolute, dead, tomb-like stillness.I must have sat there for half an hour, my world reduced to the throb in my back and the echo of the closing door. I was just starting to wonder if the girl, Wendy, was even coming back, if this was some new, cold torture to just let me sit here and bleed, when the door opened again.It wasn't just Wendy.She scurried in first, her eyes wide and fixed on the floor, carrying a stack of white towels. Behind her was an older man, tall and thin, with a severe face and wire-rimmed glasses. He wore a dark, formal suit, not a physician's coat, a

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Ch: 14 The East Wing.

I gripped the cold, iron handle. My palm ached, but I barely felt it over the deep, pulling throb in my back.Don't be too curious.His words echoed in the massive, silent room. He might as well have thrown a key at me. What did he think? That I would just sit here, a good, broken little toy, and wait for him to come and... what? Finish the job?Rage, cold and sharp, cut through the fog of pain. It was a more familiar feeling than the fear, and I held onto it. It was fuel.I pulled the heavy door open.It moved with a smooth, oiled shush, not a creak. Of course it did. This place was probably perfect, right down to its hinges. I stood in the doorway, a small, barefoot figure in a gray wool nightgown, staring into a tunnel of black stone.The hallway was even colder than my room. The air was dead, still, and smelled faintly of dust and the herbs from the physician's salve. Polished stone, so dark it looked like a frozen river, stretched into the shadows, lit only by small, glowi

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Ch: 15 My Toy, His Nothing.

The woman’s voice was a low, sibilant hiss. "What... are... you... doing here?"I was frozen. My bare feet felt fused to the cold marble floor. I was a mouse that had just stumbled out of its hole and found two coiled snakes.The woman, this "Luna," as the physician had called her was a vision of ice. Perfect, platinum hair, a face that could have been carved by a god, and eyes the color of a winter sky, now narrowed in pure, homicidal rage.The man in the wheelchair, Aiden, was still staring at me. His gray eyes were wide, not with anger, but with a raw, panicked shock. It was as if he was seeing a ghost."I..." I stammered, my voice a pathetic croak. I took a half-step back, my hand instinctively going to the flimsy wool of my nightgown. "I... I was lost. I... I heard... shouting."The woman, Quinn, let out a laugh. It was not a sound of humor. It was sharp and brittle, like breaking glass."Lost?" she scoffed, taking a slow, predatory step toward me. "In the wing he put you

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Ch: 16 The Cost of Curiosity.

Pain.That was the first thing. Not a thought, not a sound. Just a white, blinding, all-consuming fire. It was a different pain from before. The gash on my back was a deep, searing sea of agony, but this... this was a sharp, jagged, wrong thing.My shoulder. My left shoulder.I was floating in a black, sticky void, and the only thing that tethered me to the world was this new, sickening, grinding pain."...Goddess, oh Goddess... miss... please..."A voice, small and terrified. It was crying.I gasped, a raw, sharp intake of air that felt like swallowing glass. My ribs screamed. My back tore. And the gasp, the simple act of breathing, sent a wave of fresh, nauseating pain through my shoulder.My eyes flew open.The ceiling. The dark, carved stone ceiling of the bedroom. I was back in the bed."Oh, thank the Goddess, miss... Miss Yara... you're awake... I... I thought..."I turned my head. The movement was a mistake. My neck, where Quinn's claws had been, was a ring of fire.

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Ch: 17 A Fight in the Dark.

Time ceased to be time. It became a series of thick, gray, agonizing blocks.There was the block where I was awake. That was the worst. The pain was a living thing in the room with me: a constant, low, screaming throb from my back, a sharp, grinding ache from my newly-set shoulder, and a tight, icy band of fire around my neck. Every breath was a negotiation with the cage of cracked glass that was my ribs.I was a prisoner in my own body. My left arm was a dead weight, bound tightly across my chest in a sling. I couldn't move. I couldn't sit up.Then there was the block with Wendy. That one was a blur of soft, terrified noises.Wendy was my hands, my legs. My everything.She was the one who, with eyes squeezed shut and apologies spilling from her lips, had to help me use a bedpan. She gently, painstakingly, spooned lukewarm broth past my lips, my only food."You have to eat, miss," she'd plead, her hand shaking. "The physician said you're healing so fast. You... you need the fue

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Ch: 18 The First Whisper of War.

Wendy was shaking so hard the silver cup in her hands rattled against the tray."Miss..." she whispered, her voice watery. "Please. Just a little more. You need...""I know," I said. My voice was a low, scratchy thing, the muscles in my neck still screaming in protest. I took the cup from her with my one good hand and drank.The broth was rich, hot, and tasteless. I drank it all. It wasn't food. It was fuel. Ammunition.When Ares had left, the terror had left a void. But it wasn't a void of despair. It was cold. It was empty. It was still. The old Yara, the one who cried, the one who felt everything... she was gone. She'd been burned away by Tiana's lies, by Fiona's claws, by Ares's truth.What was left was this. A hard, cold, observant thing in a broken-doll body.Heal.His last command. I would obey it. I would obey it with a ferocity that would have terrified me a week ago.I spent the next two days in a disciplined, agonizing blur.I ate every single thing Wendy brought me, my jaw

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Ch: 19 Let Them See.

Wendy wasn't just crying. She was hyperventilating."Miss, no... no, no... please, miss... you're bleeding..." she sobbed, her hands hovering, terrified to touch me, terrified not to. "You're bleeding through... the stitches are... oh, Goddess, they're torn... you're going to die...""I'm... not... going to die," I panted, my one good hand gripping the iron door handle, my knuckles white. The world was a spinning, gray, nauseating blur. My back felt like it was on fire, a wet, tearing, ripping fire. The new blood was hot and sticky against my skin."Get. Me. Dressed.""Dressed?" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "Miss, you... you need the physician! You need to lie down!""If I lie down now," I gasped, my teeth grinding together so hard my jaw ached, "I... will never... get back up." I turned my head, a slow, agonizing movement. The muscles in my neck felt like frayed, burning ropes.I looked at her. Right in her terrified, tear-filled eyes."They... are out there," I whispered, the w

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Ch: 20 The Cost of War.

The second I turned the corner, the massive stone archway of the Great Hall hiding me from view, the invisible wires holding me upright were snipped.It wasn't a gentle release. It was a catastrophic failure. The adrenaline, the cold, righteous fury that had been my fuel, all of it vanished in a single, sickening whoosh.And the pain, the pain I had been holding at bay with sheer spite, detonated.It wasn't just my back. It was my shoulder, a grinding, sickening pulse of broken bone. It was my ribs, which felt like shattered glass. And my back... oh, Goddess, my back. It felt like the stitches had been replaced with white-hot wires, and someone was yanking them, trying to peel my skin from my spine.My vision didn't just blur. It shattered into a thousand spinning, painful pieces."Miss!"Wendy's shriek sounded like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel.My legs were gone. They simply weren't there anymore. They were just useless, numb weights. My good hand, the one that

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