Semua Bab SOLD TO THE WEREWOLF KING : Bab 11 - Bab 20

In the days following Vorian's psychological assault, the penthouse became our fortress and our training ground. Kaelen was a relentless architect, and I was his sole pupil, learning to fortify the silvery tether that bound my soul to his. We learned to speak in pulses—a flicker of caution, a spark of focus, a steady hum of presence. The bond was no longer a ghost; it was a living, breathing thing we were learning to arm. It was during one of these exercises, as I practiced building a mental shield around our connection, that the first intrusion came. It was subtle. A single, dissonant vibration that shivered down the tether, like a drop of ice-cold water falling into a warm pool. It was gone as quickly as it came, but the chill it left behind lingered in my veins. My eyes snapped open. Kaelen was already watching me, his body coiled tight. “Report,” he commanded, his voice low. “Something… touched the bond. It was cold. It didn’t feel like you.” I wrapped my arms around myself,

In the days that followed Vorian's sonic assault, a dull, persistent ache took root deep in my chest, centered on the silvery tether of our bond. It was a constant, grim reminder that our connection was no longer just a private sanctuary; it was a battlefield, and the enemy had artillery that could strike from anywhere.Kaelen was a man transformed. The controlled Alpha was gone, replaced by a bristling, volatile force of nature. He barely slept. He paced the penthouse like a caged tiger, his senses stretched to their limits, perpetually waiting for the next attack. The bone resonator was locked away, but its malignant presence seeped into every silence.Our training became desperate, brutal."We cannot be passive," he growled, his eyes glowing with barely-contained fury. We were back in the sanctum, but the air was no longer one of study; it was a war room. "Shielding is not enough. He has proven he can pierce it. We must learn to counter-strike.""Counter-strike? How?" I asked, my v

The shattered phone was not just a piece of broken technology; it was the final, fragile thread of our patience, snapping. The ghost was no longer in the machine. It was in our blood, in our memories, and it was reaching for the one person I had fought so hard to protect.Kaelen’s cold fury was a physical force that reshaped the very air in the penthouse. The low-level static he’d been feeding the bond sharpened into a blade’s edge of focused intent. He was no longer just creating noise. He was building a fortress, brick by psychic brick, and I could feel the immense strain it put on him.“We cannot defend against what we do not understand,” he stated, his voice gravelly with fatigue and rage. He stood before a large smart screen he’d had installed in his study, now covered in a chaotic web of lines, photos, and text. It was a map of our war, but the battlefield was intangible. “He is using the bond as a backdoor into your consciousness. We must find the vulnerability he’s exploiting

The world in the underground sanctum froze. The ancient woman stood between us and the only exit, her silver knife not raised in threat, but held in a grip that spoke of grim purpose. Her silver eyes, mirrors of my own, held a universe of weariness and resolve.Kaelen’s growl deepened, a promise of violence that vibrated in the cramped space. “Step aside.”The old woman didn’t flinch. Her gaze remained fixed on me, seeing past the fear, past the confusion, to the core of what I was. “I am Lyra,” she said, her voice gaining a sliver of strength. “The last Keeper of this sanctum. The last guardian of the truth, until you came.”“You knew I would come?” I managed, my fingers clutching the grimoire like a lifeline.“I felt the bond awaken. I felt the Defiler’s poison seeking the source. It was only a matter of time.” Her eyes flickered to the slashed tapestry. “He was my student once. Vorian. The brightest mind I had ever taught. He craved the Weaver’s knowledge, but his heart was a void.

The victory at the orphanage was ashes in our mouths. We returned to the penthouse not as conquerors, but as fugitives who had just revealed their most powerful, desperate trick. The green venom crawling through the grimoire’s symbol was a ticking clock, a visible manifestation of Vorian’s shifted intent. Capture was off the table. This was now an assassination mission.The pack was on a war footing. The penthouse, once a sterile cage, was now a command center. Wolves moved with quiet purpose, their eyes glowing in the dim light as they secured doors, monitored feeds, and checked weapons. The air was thick with the scent of aggression and fear. Marcus, his arm bandaged from a skirmish with Vorian’s mercenaries during our extraction, moved with a grim limp, his reports to Kaelen terse and heavy.Kaelen was a storm contained by sheer will. He had barely looked at me since we returned, his focus entirely on fortifying our position. But I could feel the roiling tempest of his emotions thr