บททั้งหมดของ The Shadow Pact: Bound to the Demon : บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 29

Duke leaned on the wall outside the morgue, dragging on the cigarette dangling from his lips, eyes half lidded as he exhaled slowly, as if trying to push the weight of the night out with the smoke that curled into the cold air.He replayed his memories from the alley a few nights ago and the hospital when he and Mitch first met Noah Ware trying to find a link between the two events and that of today.Noah ware and his roommate had successfully become people of interest in this case but statement differences won’t necessarily make them the main suspects as there’s no known motive or evidence that points to murder.Wait what is his roommate’s name again?“You do know that you are not allowed to smoke around here right?” Tom spoke up, stepping out of the building.Duke turned to him and smiled apologetically before stubbing out the cigarette with his foot “Sorry, are you starting the autopsy? Let’s go in then.”The morgue was a sanctuary of silence, a stark, clinical vault where the only

The return to consciousness was not a gentle rise; it was like being dragged through wet cement. When Noah’s mind finally flickered back to life, he found himself staring at the popcorn texture of the apartment ceiling.He tried to draw a breath, but his chest felt like it was encased in a block of solid lead. He tried to twitch a finger, to wiggle a toe, to even shift his jaw. Nothing.His body was a lifeless mannequin, a heavy, unresponsive shell that no longer obeyed the commands of its pilot.The only things he could control were his eyelids. He blinked rapidly, the dry friction of his lashes against his corneas being the only sensation he could claim.A shadow fell over him. Kael leaned into his field of vision, looking significantly better than he had on the floor, though his complexion still carried a faint, translucent grayness, his beautiful molten amber skin tone had begun to return. He looked down at Noah with a mixture of clinical interest and that infuriating, aristocrati

The interior of Duke’s unmarked sedan smelled of stale coffee and the damp, heavy scent of a city that had been raining for a century. Outside, the neon signs of the district blurred into long, bleeding streaks of light against the windshield. Duke drove in silence, his grip tight on the steering wheel, while Mitch sat in the passenger seat, a thick, yellowed accordion folder balanced on his knees.Mitch looked steady, but there was a flicker of something old and jagged in his eyes. He cleared his throat, his voice low against the hum of the engine.“My dad wasn’t some conspiracy nut, Duke. You remember him. He lectured sociology for thirty years. Urban poverty, social deviance, religious communities… that kind of thing. He was a man of data, not spirits.”Duke glanced at him, then back to the road. “I remember. Professor Bennett was the only man I knew who could make a lecture on population density sound like a war briefing.”“Right. Well, he spent a decade documenting informal supp

The tension was heavy, a mixture of stale copper and the shimmering, static charge of defensive magic.Kael moved through the small space with a focused, predatory intensity. His black skin seemed to absorb the dim light, and his dreadlocks swayed like heavy silken ropes as he worked. He wasn't the snarky, Gen Z slang dropping companion right now; he was an ancient entity securing a perimeter.He started with the windows, his fingers tracing invisible sigils along the sashes before snapping the blinds shut.The plastic slats clattered into place, sealing out the prying eyes of the streetlights. As he moved from the living room to the kitchen, he muttered a low-frequency spell, a rhythmic, guttural chant in Zhilerian that made the floorboards vibrate.“Zhil vae shul, ora as…”At each corner of the house, he knelt, pressing his palm against the floor. A faint, violet pulse would ripple outward, sinking into the wood and iron, creating a localized anchor.Finally, he reached the front do

The warehouse was a hive of quiet, jagged activity. While Enyeto and Harvey prepared the ritual components in the main bay, the air hummed with the residual static of the duel between Chayton and Kael.It was a cold, vibrating energy that made the skin on Noah’s neck prickle. Everyone was on edge, the clock ticking down on Mitch’s life and the Vhalir’s plans.Noah found Kael in one of the smaller storage rooms toward the back of the facility. The room was dimly lit by a single flickering bulb, casting long, dramatic shadows against the corrugated metal walls.Kael stood with his back to the door, his silhouette imposing. His black skin seemed to drink the meager light, and his dreadlocks were pulled back into a tight, practical bunch. He was stripped down to a tactical silk vest, his muscular arms gleaming as he worked.Noah watched as Kael slid a series of thin, obsidian-glass daggers into hidden sheaths sewn into the lining of his trousers and vest. The blades were wickedly curved,