All Chapters of My little fierce mate: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

ELLA'S POV The moment Duke’s body hits the ground, something in me snaps.Not the chain.Not the magic.Not even the fear.Me.I break.Because I’m staring at the man who destroyed my life — dead — and the man who would destroy the world to save me — breathing hard in the rain.And I don’t know how to hold both truths without collapsing.Duke lies twisted on the ground, his blood washing into the mud like he’s being erased. The storm tears at his hair. The wind shoves his body as if even nature wants him gone.Jake is still crouched over him, chest heaving, eyes feral and shining like wildfire. His claws drip red. His breath fogs the air. His shoulders shake in a way I’ve never seen — like killing Duke took something out of him he can never get back.And I…I can’t look away.I’m bound, soaked, shaking, but I can’t blink.Not yet.Not when the world is still vibrating from the force of what he did.Jake turns, slowly.Like he’s afraid to see my reaction.Like he’s terrified of my fea

The temporary hideout Marcus guides us to isn’t really a hideout.It’s a half-collapsed hunting cabin tucked beneath the roots of an ancient tree — one of those structures that looks like it should have rotted away a century ago but refuses to leave the world out of spite.It smells like pine sap and smoke.It feels like holding my breath underwater.Jake stumbles the moment we cross the threshold.Not fall.Not drop.Just — stumble.Like his legs forget he’s supposed to be unbreakable.Marcus is instantly there, catching his arm, but Jake shrugs him off with a growl.“I can walk.”He can’t.I see it in the way his knees tremble, in the way his breath drags in uneven pulls, in the way steam keeps rising from his skin like the magic inside him is still burning itself out.But he’s too proud to admit weakness.Too wounded to hide it.And I…I’m caught between wanting to cradle him and wanting to scream at him for almost dying.Marcus scowls. “You got blasted with witch fire twice. Sit y

The journey feels endless.Not because of the road — which cuts through the valley like a scar stitched over too fast — but because Jake won’t stop looking at me like I’m both a miracle and a warning. His hand never leaves mine. Not once. Not even when Marcus quietly grumbles that the Alpha should “at least pretend to be focused on the route.”But Jake ignores him. Of course he does. His thumb keeps brushing the back of my hand in slow, absent circles that feel like they’re anchoring me to the earth… and electrifying me at the same time.Seven months.I am seven months pregnant.I have been seven months pregnant this whole time — carried in fear, carried in stolen sleep, carried in someone else’s darkness — and now, as the gates of Whitecliff rise like towering iron ribs in the distance, everything inside me shifts.I’m going home.And yet… I’m not the same woman who left.Jake knows it too. It’s in the way he watches me from the corner of his eye, as though preparing himself for the

Mara nods.“Yes. They instinctively used your bond as a shield. And Jake…” She hesitates. “Your bond signature is imprinted on it.”My heart stops.Jake’s face softens in a way I’ve never seen.“Ella,” he whispers, “our pup called for me.”The room spins with emotion.Mara clears her throat.“That’s why we need to monitor both of you closely. This pregnancy is no longer just biological—it’s magical. And magical pregnancies can be unpredictable.”Jake’s tone sharpens. “Unpredictable how?”Mara folds her arms.“Ella may experience heightened bond surges. Emotional sensory spikes. Physical exhaustion. And the pup may continue drawing from both of you—especially during stressful situations.”Jake doesn’t hesitate.“Then she won’t experience stress.”I snort softly. “Jake, that’s—”He looks at me with a seriousness that steals the air from my lungs.“I mean it. Not one more ounce of fear touches you. Not one nightmare. Not one threat. Not one council interrogation. I’ll burn this entire pa

THIRD PERSON'S POV The sound of Jake’s voice rolled across Whitecliff like a storm blessed by the moon.Not loud.Not forced.Just inevitable.It slipped through walls, through reinforced clinic glass, through the heartbeat monitors still blinking too fast. It curled around Ella like a warm wind, pulling her back from the thin edge of exhaustion.She lay in a half-sit on the clinic bed, hair damp with sweat, throat raw, eyelids so heavy they felt stitched down — but still, she lifted her head.Because she knew that voice.She knew its weight, its steadiness, its fire.The nurses paused.Mara froze mid-instruction.Even the triplets — impossibly small, impossibly powerful — went still.Jake’s announcement wasn’t just echoing through the pack.It was echoing through her bones.“Tonight, Whitecliff…”His voice trembled.Just a little.Enough for Ella’s breath to hitch.Mara glanced toward the window, then toward Ella, then toward the newborns as if silently asking the Goddess to please,