Todos los capítulos de His rejected curvy secret : Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

Jacob’s POV I stood in the center of the camp with Faye right beside me and our daughter cradled against her chest. One side of the pack faced me, loyal wolves with blades lowered but ready, their eyes locked on mine. The other side stood behind Harlan twenty strong armed and tense with the central tent at their backs like a captured fortress. The shadow curse still lingered in faint black veins on a few necks but weaker now after we broke the ritual circle. One wrong word and this divide turned into blood on the ground. I raised my voice so every wolf heard me clearly. “Harlan you speak of exile. But Faye saved this pack with her blood and the baby’s echo. She stood in the valley when Veyr came for our daughter. She carried the Lunaris power when none of us could. We do not turn on our own. Not after everything we survived together.” Harlan stepped forward from the tent flap his gray hair silver under the moonlight. “The shadow mark came with her Jacob. The human Luna brings on

Jacob’s POV The clearing still buzzed with low growls and shifting feet. Faye stood beside me breathing steadily but pale the baby quiet in her arms after that cry that rang like a command through every unmarked wolf. The silver barrier had faded but the echo lingered in the air thick enough to taste. Harlan’s line looked smaller now half his followers crossed over after the vision and the healing light. The rest gripped their weapons eyes darting between their elder and me. I stepped forward voice cutting through the murmurs. “Enough staring. We march together tonight. Nyra finishes her ritual at moonrise and takes the echo. We reach her cave before that happens or we lose everything. Harlan, you ride at the front where I can see you. Any betrayal and you die first. No discussion.” Harlan’s jaw tightened but he did not argue. Three of his loyal wolves moved to flank him blades still out. Riven called from the side. “I scout ahead with Elara. We mark the path clear of any trap

Faye’s POV The moon had betrayed us tonight. It rose full and bright to watch a family almost break, a pack almost die by its own hands. We rode back into camp under that same moon. The baby rested calmly against me now. Her Lunaris echo thrummed steady and strong inside my ribs after it shattered Nyra’s ritual stone. The silver light no longer flared wild; it flowed quietly and sure, knitting strength back into my arms and legs. I slid from the horse without Jacob’s help and stood straight even though every muscle still ached from the poison’s long grip. The central clearing waited for us. Half the pack stood armed on one side faces hard and suspicious. The other half clustered near the council tent weapons lowered but eyes sharp. Torches burned low and cast long flickering shadows across the dirt. No cheers greeted us. Only silence thick enough to choke on. I walked forward with our daughter in my arms. Jacob stayed close to my right side. Elara carried the moonstone behind

Jacob’s POV The strike team moved silently and swiftly—Elara with the moonstone strapped tight to her chest, Riven tracking the dark energy trail left by the ritual fragment, Lira covering our rear with blades ready. The morning mist had burned away, replaced by heavy pine shadows and the sharp scent of frost on needles. My thoughts stayed ice-cold, unrelenting. Nyra had to die tonight. No loose ends. No chance for the shadow curse to crawl back. Thorn already carried too much of her power; if she lived she would feed him more. The baby would never be safe. Faye would never be safe. I would end this witch before the sun set again. Riven crouched at the edge of a narrow game trail and pointed to faint violet wisps curling through the underbrush like smoke that refused to rise. “She’s bleeding dark energy. The fragment is leaking. We’re close.” Elara pressed her palm to the moonstone. Silver light flickered in answer. “The trail pulses stronger every minute. She’s trying to bind

Jacob’s POV Three nights. Seventy-two hours until the full moon rose and Thorn brought his shadow army to our gates. The camp had transformed overnight into a fortress under siege preparations. Stakes sharpened to needle points ringed the outer perimeter in double rows. Fire pits smoked at regular intervals ready to blaze on command. Archers practiced draws on the new towers we raised from felled pines. Every able wolf trained—blades clashed in the central clearing, bows twanged on the ridges, and younger fighters shifted in and out of wolf form under Riven and Lira’s sharp commands. Supplies moved steadily to the inner ring: dried meat, water barrels, healing herbs, spare weapons. Vulnerable wolves—elders, pups, the still-recovering—stayed sheltered behind the strongest barricades. I walked the lines checking every detail. My thoughts stayed locked on survival. Thorn carried Nyra’s power now. He fed on her curse the entire time we believed him caged. His army no longer feared sil