บททั้งหมดของ Let Them Kneel: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

Kaelani stepped into the dining room—a more intimate space than the grand hall, though no less striking. The arched ceiling was framed by carved oak beams, and wall sconces glowed with a warm, flickering light, complimenting the stunning chandelier that hung just overhead. A long table stretched between two thronelike chairs at either end, their high backs carved from dark wood and upholstered in deep plum velvet. They looked regal, but surprisingly comfortable—clearly designed for both power and poise.Soraya dipped into a deep bow, her arm sweeping elegantly across her middle as she addressed Lord Draevyn, who sat at the far end with his fingers steepled beneath his chin.“My lord, she refused the dresses.”Kaelani didn’t wait to be told where to sit. She crossed to the opposite end of the table and took her place—still dressed in her wrinkled gray jumpsuit from the mortal world.Her gaze flicked toward Draevyn—he was watching her already, silver eyes unreadable.“Were they not to

The night was black as pitch, the only light coming from the high beams slicing through the empty road ahead. Julian’s hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles tight, his eyes fixed on the never-ending stretch of asphalt. Fourteen hours straight behind the wheel and it was starting to catch up with him.He rolled the window down an inch, letting the icy air slap his face. It helped—a little. He blinked hard, forcing his vision to stay sharp, then inhaled deeply through his nose. The crisp air filled his lungs, but it didn’t clear the fog settling over his mind.The road was hypnotic. Endless. And dangerous when paired with a man running on fumes.Jace had wanted to stop back in the last town, even suggested they crash at some rundown motel just off the highway. But Julian had insisted they push forward. His wolf had demanded it—restless, agitated, refusing to wait. Every mile closer felt like another inch toward Kaelani. Stopping hadn’t been an option.But now, in the middle of nowh

Draevyn stepped forward from the center of the courtroom, the theatrics gone from his voice. It was softer now—each word landing with the weight of a verdict.“I hope it’s enough,” he said, eyes fixed not on Julian, but on Kaelani.“I hope it’s enough to convince you… that you deserve far more than anything he’s ever offered you.”Kaelani lowered her gaze, lashes casting shadows across her face. She didn’t argue. Didn’t speak. She just stared down at the bench before her—shoulders tense, like Draevyn’s words had splintered something she hadn’t realized was still breakable.Julian rose from the stand with force, the wooden chair scraping back behind him.“No,” he said, voice hoarse.He stepped toward her, desperation in every line of his body.“Kaelani, look at me. Not him—look at me.”Her eyes lifted slowly, locking with his.“This guy is giving you a twisted version of everything.”His voice cracked as he pressed a hand to his chest.“Yeah, I was scared. I acted like a complete fucki

They were led down a narrow hallway, the walls seeming to close in with each step—tight, dark, silent.Their bare feet padded over cool stone. Ahead, two towering double doors loomed at the corridor’s end—black, rimmed in gold, and pulsing faintly like a muffled heartbeat.Julian felt the vibration before he heard it.Then—The doors swung open.Sound slammed into them like a tidal wave.A wall of bass hit first—deep and relentless, thudding in their chests like a second pulse. Crimson light spilled out, flooding the hallway and washing over their skin like blood and heat.The air grew warmer. Thicker. Saturated with perfume and bloodlust as they stepped into the underworld.The crowd was a den of indulgence—vampires, witches, and every kind of supernatural creature they could name. To their surprise, even Lycans. All of them dancing, grinding, drinking from glasses and from each other. Some wore leather. Others wore little. Skin shimmered. Teeth gleamed. Pleasure and danger coiled in

The vampire led them down a shadowed corridor, where the walls shifted to polished black marble veined in crimson.The double doors at the end were tall—arched, lacquered black, and inlaid with intricate silver filigree. When they opened, the room beyond whispered of old wealth and older power.Lazarus’ study was cavernous but not cold. Heavy velvet drapes lined the walls, pooling like spilled ink across the floor. Gothic candelabras flickered with blood-colored flame, casting long, shifting shadows across ornate bookshelves, skull-topped hourglasses, and ancient tomes bound in cracked leather.A fireplace crackled low in the background, its flames casting a ruby glow over the centerpiece of the room: a wide mahogany desk carved with serpentine details, sharp enough to draw blood if one weren’t careful.Behind it sat Lazarus.He lounged—not with laziness, but with complete ownership—on a high-backed gothic chair upholstered in jet-black velvet. A deep red silk robe, loosely tied at th