Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 51 - Chapitre 60

LUCIEN’S POV The border patrol returns at dusk with unease. I stand in the war hall when the doors open. Marcus enters first, his posture rigid. Behind him, two patrol captains escort a man wearing the crest of an allied pack stitched across his cloak. An allied messenger. His heartbeat is quick. Too quick....Fear. It flickers across his face like static. I straighten behind the long oak table. “Report,” I say evenly. Marcus steps aside. “The Northern Ridge pack sends word,” he says. “Potential trade agreements in timber and iron in exchange for winter grain.” The messenger bows stiffly. “Alpha Lucien,” he begins, voice steady but strained. “My Alpha sends his regards and hopes for strengthened ties between our territories.” I nod once. “Speak.” He launches into details of routes, quantities and seasonal timelines. I listen in silence and hear every word and none of them. The room feels slightly distant and muted as if I’m observing from behind glass. My wolf is paci

LUCIEN’S POV Thousands of wolves packed shoulder to shoulder beneath the open sky, their scents blending into a restless current of expectation and unease. Stone banners ripple overhead, bearing the crest of our pack. The elevated platform beneath my boots overlooks them all.My people, my responsibility, my failure.I stand at the centre of the platform, hands clasped behind my back, spine straight despite the fatigue gnawing at my bones. The winter sun hangs pale above us, casting sharp light across the stone. It should warm me, but it doesn’t.A murmur rolls through the crowd as I step forward. The sound vibrates through the bond. An Alpha does not need to raise his voice to command silence. I let my power pulse once, and the courtyard stills instantly. Thousands of eyes lift to me.Gold, brown, grey.I swallow the bitterness that rises in my throat.“Territory boundaries along the eastern ridge have shifted,” I begin, my voice carrying easily across the open space. “Border patrol

SAPHRA'S POVThe cell is quieter tonight and it presses against the inside of your skull and forces you to listen to yourself.Dripping water echoes from somewhere down the corridor. Chains scrape when someone shifts in the far block. A rat skitters over stone and vanishes.I sit cross-legged in the center of my cell.Back straight, hands resting loosely on my knees, eyes closed.Breathe in.Hold.Breathe out.Again.I hear voices now.The first time the voice taught me this technique, I thought I was losing what little sanity I had left. Slow the breath. Anchor in the body. Observe the thoughts without becoming them.“You must learn to quiet the noise,” it had whispered then.At first, the noise had been my own fear.Now, it is the bond.Lucien’s pain hums faintly beneath my ribs, like a distant storm I can not see but always feel. His exhaustion. His anger. His confusion.Sometimes it surges so violently that my hands tremble.Tonight it is steadier.I inhale slowly through my nose.

SAPHRA'S POV It happens in the deepest part of the night when even the dungeon seems to sleep. I wake with a start, heart hammering, but not from the bond this time. From her. Up. The voice strikes like lightning inside my skull. I roll off the narrow bed instantly, hitting the stone floor without a sound. “What?” I breathe silently. They have been bribed. The air in the cell feels wrong. “Who?” Two guards. They are coming and they will stage your suicide. For a second, I don’t understand the words. Then they slam into me. Suicide. My stomach drops. “They can’t,” I think fiercely. “Lucien moved me here.” That only makes your death inconvenient not impossible. Ice floods my veins. “How?” Hanging. From the window bars. My gaze flies to the narrow window high above the wall. Solid Iron crossbars. Strong enough to hold weight. My weight. Rage ignites hot and bright. “They think I would break,” I whisper in my mind. They think you are weak. Silence stretches.

LUCIEN’S POV The stairs to the high tower spiral endlessly upward. I take them two at a time, then four. Stone cracks under my boots where I push too hard. My hands tighten instinctively around her, terrified that if I loosen my grip even slightly she’ll vanish like smoke. I hold her like something stolen.The scent of rope still clings to her skin.I want to burn the dungeon to ash.I want to tear through every person in this palace until I find the one who gave the order.But she shifts slightly in my arms, a faint, pained sound brushing my mind through the bond, and all of that fury redirects.Focus, her health first. Vengeance will come later.The high tower looms above the rest of the palace, isolated from the council chambers and far from the lower barracks. The most secure location within these walls.A comfortable confinement.I reach the top landing and don’t bother with subtlety.I kick the door open, and it slams against the interior wall with a violent crack, wood splinte