All Chapters of TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

EMBER’S POVWe walk slowly through the woods, Rafael matching his pace to mine. He doesn’t ask questions or push for explanations. He guides me toward the main house with a patience I didn’t know he possessed.He settles me on a couch in a room I don’t recognize — some kind of sitting room, all warm wood and soft lighting. Then he disappears for a moment and returns with a blanket, a cup of tea, a small bottle of pills.“For the anxiety,” he says, shaking one into his palm. “I used to have them too. When I first moved from Spain. The pressure, the expectations, the feeling that everyone wanted something from me and I didn’t know who to trust.”I take the pill and drink the tea and let the warmth seep into my frozen limbs, too numb to do anything else.“I’m sorry,” I manage finally. “For falling apart on you. You shouldn’t have had to—”“Don’t apologize.” He settles into a chair across from me, his expression softer. “I meant what I said before. I’m not a good person. But I’m not cruel

EMBER’S POVHe’s standing in the snow about twenty feet away, his face a mask of barely controlled fury.The cold bites at my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ice spreading through my veins as Knox’s eyes take in the scene — me emerging from the house with Rafael, my tear-stained face, the handkerchief still clutched in my trembling fingers, the way Rafael’s hand hovers near my back.For a moment, no one moves. The world narrows to just the three of us, suspended in the pale winter light, and I can almost hear the thread between Knox and me stretching taut, ready to snap.“Ember.” Knox’s voice is too calm. The calm that comes before violence. The calm that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “Step away from him.”“Knox, please—”“She’s fine, Volkov.” Rafael’s voice is light. Almost amused. Like he’s commenting on the weather and not standing in the crosshairs of a Lycan King’s rage. “I took good care of her while you were… otherwise occupied.”Knox goes very still.T

KNOX'S POVThe nurse retreats with a look that promises incident reports and formal complaints.Rayana ignores her completely and fixes me with a stare that I have not been on the receiving end of in ten years but recognize immediately.The look that says: I know you. I know what you're about to do. And I'm not letting you."I saw what happened. Go," she says. "Go get her. Remember what we talked about."What we talked about.The aurora night floods back. The hour she stole from me under those lights while Ember sat in a cabin wondering why I didn't come back.I'd braced myself for the usual Rayana bullshit.The dress accidentally slipping off one shoulder. The tragic sighs. The whole dying-woman-who-just-wants-one-last-taste-of-what-she-lost routine, calibrated to make me feel like an asshole for saying no.But Rayana didn't do any of that.She sat across from me in a wingback chair with a blanket pulled to her chin and she talked about my father.Nobody talks about my father.Nobody

KNOX'S POVThe truth is that I saw Ember Aragon at a pack gathering in 2016 — a territorial summit Gale dragged her to, a miserable event where she stood at his elbow in a dress that cost more than most people's cars and smiled at people who didn't see her and didn't speak unless spoken to.I watched her for an entire evening from across the room and wanted her with a violence that shocked me.The optics are murky.The line between wanting her because I could save her and wanting her because I could take her was truly a matter of perspective. Not one I cared about at the time.Optics didn't matter when I'd always had my way.Optics of a good and noble man imply conscience — both of which I severely lacked, and proved just right when I drove a selfish bargain with her husband.I wanted her the way I'd wanted things my entire life — totally, consumingly, with the absolute conviction that anything I desired should be mine to take.I didn't know about Gale. Not then.She was his wife and

EMBER’S POV“Wakey wakey, sunshine.”The voice cuts through my sleep, bright and shrill and entirely too alive for whatever ungodly hour this is.“I said wakey wakey. Rise and shine. Up and at ‘em. Carpe diem. Seize the—”“Rayana.” My voice comes out like gravel dragged across sandpaper. “What are you doing.”“I’m waking you up. Obviously. Now — breakfast. I have options. Eggs Benedict with smoked salmon and capers, or a traditional Finnish porridge with lingonberry compote, or — and this is my personal recommendation — pain au chocolat that Rafael’s chef makes fresh every morning and which I have been reliably informed will change your entire relationship with pastry as a concept.”I pry one eye open.Rayana is standing in my doorway, fully dressed, fully made up, radiating the specific manic energy of a woman who has decided that today will go according to plan by all means.She’s wearing cream cashmere and her platinum hair is swept into something elegant and she looks, by all acco