บททั้งหมดของ Echoes of Ruin: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

The second those ballroom doors shut, everything changed. Cleaner. Heavier. No rustling secrets here. No dimly-lit stains where that cursed glamour had sizzled and blackened. Just the silent creak of Hawthorne House at night and the low snarl of every wolf we passed on the way to Kellan’s room. They didn’t challenge us. Didn’t question why an outsider was half-carrying their prince halfway up the stairs. Maybe they sensed the grim set of my jaw. Maybe they could see the subtle threat in the angle of my shoulders. Or maybe they were just clever enough to smell the danger in my scent. In any case, they parted as if the hallway was mine to claim. Kellan didn’t say a word as I led him down the darkened hall and leaned heavily into me. He was barely awake, but his skin was icy hot through his jacket. The magic was still crackling against him – ragged, residual. His fingers twitched with it. His breath had not evened since the ballroom. He kept his eyes shut, as if even the shadows of th

I wanted to let you know that Echoes of Ruin will be going on a short, temporary hiatus. The story will officially return on January 1st, and this pause is purely a reset, not a goodbye.This world, these characters, and the story still unfolding mean so much to me. Stepping back briefly helps me stay aligned with the pacing, emotional weight, and intensity this series deserves, especially as we move into the next stretch of the story, where everything begins to tighten, fracture, and collide. I want to make sure what comes next hits exactly the way it should.I’m incredibly grateful for your patience, your comments, and the passion you bring to every chapter. Your excitement fuels these stories more than you know, and I never take that support for granted. Sometimes the best thing I can do for the story, and for you as readers, is to pause long enough to make sure I’m bringing you the strongest version of what comes next.Thank you for sticking with me, trusting the process, and conti

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I followed the spiral staircase up to Professor Dana’s office, but god damn, I sure as hell wasn’t prepared for her door to slide open on its own. Magic glittered in the crack as I crossed the threshold. The smell of fresh parchment, lavender oil, and ozone filled the room. Tall shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, overflowing with spellbooks, artifacts, scrolls, and, the least conspicuous of all, at least three magical familiars sleeping in jars I didn’t dare to get too close to. Professor Dana sat behind a desk carved out of polished obsidian. Her hair was a sharp opalescent silver, shimmering like a blade’s edge. Not gray, not white. Silver. Silver with veins of purple and blue pulsing just underneath, lightning caught in silk. She tilted her head at me. “You’re not on my schedule, Mr. Reed.” “I know,” I said, shutting the door behind me and resisting the urge to flinch when it locked itself. “But I think this is… urgent.”

I woke to cold sheets and the imprint of his body. The bed was empty. But the scent of him was not. That mix of ironwood smoke, pine tar, and earth after rain and blood. It was on my skin. In my lungs. Wrapped so tight around my ribs like he was still holding me. I lay there for a few moments longer, lids heavy in the gray morning light, trying to ignore the low burn that spread from my aching ass. This wasn’t pain, exactly. Not physical pain, anyway. But it wasn’t just the afterglow of sex, either. This was my wolf. Still too weak. Still too quiet. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood slowly, feeling the heft of my own body like I didn’t know I could a thousand times a day. My balance faltered, just a little. Enough to piss me off. I shoved it aside, grabbed my clothes, and forced myself to move. By the time I reached the clearing behind Hawthorne House, Caelum was already there, shirtless and pacing like a caged animal. He didn’t look at me when I dropped to the

I woke up to the solid and warm weight of Ronan pressed against me. He was turned toward me, one arm thrown across my waist, chest rising and falling in time with mine. Hell, even asleep, he was protecting what he’d staked a claim on. Not with words, maybe. But in every fucking way that mattered. My first instinct had been to act like I hadn’t noticed. My second was to stay right where I was and not say anything about it. I did neither. Slowly, carefully, I shifted not to wake him. Even as my brain scrambled to process the how. Hell, even the why. He’d left last night after we’d talked. I’d felt sleep hit the second the door clicked shut. Too exhausted to do much else but succumb. Must have passed out again sometime during the night. But clearly, at some point, he’d come back. Ronan stirred a little at my movement, one brow creasing. “You’re awake,” he muttered, voice rough and thick. “Looks like it.” I kept my voice light, teasing. “Break in, or did I forget to lock the door