Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 61 - Chapitre 70

POV LYRAMy hands burn. Not the usual heat that comes from magic, not the calm, controlled flare I’ve always known. This is raw, pulling, scraping at my skin and my bones. My fingers shake as I trace the runes across the floor, trying to bind him again, trying to force control into Darius that I have never needed to fight for before.I cough, low at first, then deeper, tasting blood. Not a lot. Not yet. But enough to remind me that I am pushing too far, and I know it, and I hate knowing it because weakness cannot be seen. Weakness invites challenge.My wolf murmurs inside me. Always murmuring, never quiet.“You cannot hold him like this. Not without burning yourself,” it says, low, accusing.“I can,” I snap back, and my voice cracks in the empty room. “I have to.”I grit my teeth, chest tight, and try again. Fingers tremble as they hover over the glyphs. The symbols glow faintly, flicker, and then stabilize for a breath, a moment, and then pulse wildly, like they are alive, like they

POV: LYRAI wake up choking.Not from a dream and not from any attack either. Just pain. Thick and ugly and sitting right in my throat like rust. Like blood. I force myself to swallow and it burns all the way down until my eyes sting like I am about to cry but I am not crying. My hands are already shaking before I even open my eyes. That is how bad it is now.I lie there for a second and try to breathe slowly. In. Out. Like that will help. My chest does this stupid stutter like it forgets what breathing even is.“Get up,” I whisper.My voice sounds wrong. Scratchy. Weak. “Get up.”My wolf shifts inside me, irritated. Exhausted. Angry.“You are killing us,” she says.“Not now,” I mutter. “Please. Not now.”I push myself upright and the room spins like it hates me. The walls blur and I grab the bed before I fall back down. My fingers are cold and wet with sweat. My shirt sticks to my back even though the room is cold. It is still dark out. That gray quiet hour before morning where every

POV: LYRAThe first report hits my phone before the sun is fully up.Not a soft buzz. Not a warning.A hard vibration that rattles against the table like it is scared too.I am already awake. I have not slept right in days. My head throbs like it is stuffed with cotton and nails. My hands shake when I reach for the phone and I hate that. I hate weakness. I hate that my body feels thin and tired like it is burning fuel faster than I can replace it.I open the message.Then another comes in.Then another.Too fast.Way too fast.“What the hell?” I whisper.My wolf lifts her head inside me. She has been restless all night, circling, scraping at the inside of my chest.“Something is wrong,” she says.“I know,” I snap, and my voice cracks.The first report is short. Clean. No emotion.Alpha Darius has altered his routes again.Meetings moved. Guards rotated.Orders came directly from him. No delegation.My jaw tightens.The second report digs deeper.Unauthorized outreach confirmed.Contac

POV: KAELMy chest locks up before anyone even opens their mouth.It’s stupid. Nothing is happening yet. No alarms. No shouting. No running feet. Just the same room, same table, same low hum of power under the walls. But my wolf goes tight inside me, like someone just pulled a wire straight through him.“You feel that?” he asks.I don’t answer right away.My eyes flick to Elara first. She’s standing by the window, arms crossed, staring out at the street like she’s bored, like this is nothing. But her fingers keep flexing. Over and over. She only does that when she’s trying not to react.Varek is leaning against the wall, arms folded, jaw tight. He looks ready to break something just to feel normal again.“So,” Varek says, breaking the quiet. “You gonna say it, or should I?”Elara turns from the window. “Say what.”“That this meeting request is bullshit,” he snaps. “That it’s a trap dressed up in manners.”She doesn’t flinch. “Lower your voice.”“I will not,” Varek says. “Because prete

POV: VAREKI feel it before anyone opens their mouth.It hits me low in my gut. Like a punch that never lands. Like the air going tight right before a fight breaks out.My wolf lifts his head inside me and goes still.“Something moved,” he says.“I know,” I mutter, already on my feet.I am in the garage when it happens. Tools laid out. Truck half open. Normal shit. Quiet shit. The kind of quiet that keeps people alive. And then the quiet changes. It gets wrong.Not loud. Not sudden.Wrong.I wipe my hands on my jeans and step outside. The yard looks the same. People moving. Talking. Laughing. Kids running. No one screaming. No alarms.Still wrong.“Not random,” my wolf says. His voice is flat. Focused. “Too clean.”“Yeah,” I say. “Feels planned.”I walk. Slow. I let my eyes move. I count heads without meaning to. I track exits. Old habit. Old scars. You never really stop doing it.A guard at the north fence shifts his weight. Just once. Too sharp. Too ready.I meet his eyes.He nods.