All Chapters of The Price Of Fate: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

Nyra’s POVThe sound curdled in my ears. My mother was gone and the pack had found heroes to sing for. The same pack that had never protected her. The same pack that had let her live at the edge of everything and swallow humiliation for years. I hated their voices. I took one step toward the door. Then another. Every step hurt. My body was weak and raw. My shoulder throbbed where the creature had ripped into me. My side felt like claws were still inside it. My leg dragged wrong. My skin was slick with sweat and healer’s oil and dried blood. I could feel the slowness in my body, that old curse of never healing the way wolves did, never moving like them, never recovering fast enough. I did not care. I made it three steps before Kieran moved. He stepped straight into my path. Just like that. One second the doorway was there. The next he was. Tall. Shaken. Blocking me. My whole body stopped so violently that pain shot up my spine. I lifted my head and stared at him through tears. “Mov

Nyra’s POVThe road was too quiet. That was the first thing that started to feel wrong the moment Ronan drove us away from the mercy centre and towards the cabin. Not wrong in the obvious way. Wrong in the kind of way that made my skin crawl because the world outside looked untouched, as if none of it had happened at all. The road stretched ahead in pale silence, cut through trees that stood still and indifferent, their branches barely moving under the weak night wind. No blood on the path. No screams. No smoke thick enough to stain the sky here. No silver-covered beasts ripping through people. No open mouths shouting in terror. Just the soft rumble of the car, the low growl of the engine, and an awful stillness hanging over everything like the land itself had decided to pretend it knew nothing. I sat stiff in the passenger seat, both hands pressed against my thighs to stop them from shaking too visibly. It did not work. My whole body felt like it had been torn open and then stitched

Nyra’s POVTears started pouring down my face before I had even taken the first step. Because the letter itself was the answer. The letter meant she knew. The letter meant she had understood she would not be standing in this room to explain anything to me herself. The letter meant she had left words in place of her body. I hated it. I hated it so much. “She knew,” I whispered. Ronan’s hand hovered near my back, not touching yet. I moved to the table like someone walking toward the blade that would cut her open because there was no other choice left. My fingers shook so badly I nearly knocked the envelope to the floor. Ronan caught it before it slipped, then put it carefully back into my hands. That small act nearly broke me. Because he did it so gently. So carefully. Like he knew this scrap of paper was about to destroy what little hope I still had left. I looked down at my name again. My mother’s hand. Familiar strokes. Familiar curves. The same hand that had patched my clothe

Kieran’s POVI crossed through the front chamber of the mercy centre and into the street beyond. The town looked like something had clawed it open and then grown bored halfway through. Bodies were gone now, but blood remained in the cracks of the ground. Burnt marks blackened wood and stone. Silver residue gleamed in ugly smears where those things had touched down. Smoke still drifted from one side of the square. Not thick. Thin and mocking. Enough to remind everyone how close it had come. People looked at me differently now. It wasn’t worship. Not really. It was fear. Need. Calculation. Regret. The same pack members who once watched Nyra suffer with detached mouths now searched my face for answers about her, about Ronan, about Elaine, about whether Vandwood still had a future after what had come through that breach. A wounded man sitting against a wall called out as I passed. “Will the barrier hold?” I did not stop. “It has to.” Another voice, female this time, cracked from nea

Kieran’s POVBeverly walked into the Elders’ hall like the place belonged to her. That was the first thing that hit me. Not grief. Not shock. Not even anger. Just the sheer delusion of it. She stepped over the threshold with her back straight and her chin lifted, silk dragged over pride she had not earned, as if the night had not already stripped half the pack bare and exposed the rest for what they were. The hall still smelled like smoke, old wood, blood carried in on boots, and the heavy, stale fear of elders who had just watched the shape of their world split open. The elders were still arguing over Nyra, over Ronan, over the barrier, over Elaine, over everything that no longer fit neatly inside their rules. And Beverly walked in like she was the answer. I turned to her fully. “What are you doing here?” My voice cut through the room hard enough that even the elders went quiet. Beverly stopped only because all eyes landed on her at once. Then she recovered and gave me that sam