All Chapters of My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian : Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

ElaraI sighed under the shower now, turning the water off. I walked to the mirror and stared at myself. I moved my wet hair, observing the woman I’d become. Since that warehouse, I haven't seen my real family. Aldric had simply told me they were in an estate. They were doing well, eating fine. I’d only watched them once from a distance when Aldric drove me to see.They looked okay. But my mother... From the camera footage, she was usually in one spot for a very long time. Just staring. She looked older. Much older than her age. It was my fault. It was because of what I had said to her.I stared at the mirror. Now I was alone. Aldric wasn't responding to my recordings. My fake family in Blackwater weren't being useful.I’d washed up, urinating to make sure the delegate’s gunk was flushed out of me.Ever since Kane and Jace returned from Mistwood, they hadn't told me a thing about the meeting. All they did was bring back this Delegate Vance, who had immediately started sexualizing me.I

ElaraI stepped out of the restroom, the steam from the scalding water still clinging to my skin like a thin, damp shroud. Delegate Vance was still slumped in the center of the massive wooden bed, facedown in the dark furs. He looked almost deadlike, his limbs splayed out at awkward, useless angles. His back was a map of fresh red scratches from where I’d anchored myself, and his skin was covered in a sheen of cold sweat that caught the flickering orange light from the hearth.I scoffed. He was a high-ranking delegate of the Mistwood Pack, and yet he’d folded like a cheap southern fan the second I really put my waist into it. He had a massive dick, sure, but he had the stamina of a yearling pup and zero idea how to move his weight. For a creature that was supposed to be physically superior to a human in every way, he was pathetic. None of them could outmuscle my sex. None of them could handle the way I took what I wanted.I was done with him. I was done with this room. But I needed to

SeraFenris slid the heavy parchment across the cracked wood toward Vane. "Sign it. The pack is united. The Blood Vows are done".Vane picked up the quill, but he didn't dip it. He looked around the table at Thorne and then back at Bram."The pack is united," Vane repeated, his tone dripping with a new, dangerous kind of realization. "Because Kael here suddenly decided he loves the South? Because we heard he already signed away the Eastern ridge rights without a single word of protest?".He looked at Bram again. "Tell me, Kael. What did she do to you? Did she find your favorite bread to shove down your throat? You look hollowed out".Bram didn't flinch, but I felt the tension in the room spike. He looked at me, then at Vane. "I signed because I'm not a fool, Vane. The Alpha has his mate. The treaty is sealed. Pushing against it now is just asking for a grave"."It's an abomination," Thorne spoke up. He stood up so fast his chair screeched against the stone. He pointed a shaking finger

Torin“You’re more pussy than a wolf, aren't you?”Yvara’s voice was flat. Bored, almost. She wasn't even looking at me when she said it. She was leaning against the damp stone wall of the cell, picking at a callus on her palm with a small, jagged piece of flint.I tried to answer. I really did. I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a pathetic, wet wheeze. My throat felt like I’d swallowed a handful of hot gravel and then spent the last three hours trying to cough it up. I’d been screaming since they dragged me down the stairs. Not even words, just raw, mindless noise until the sound died in my chest and left me with this cracked, useless pipe for a neck.I didn’t know what to do. If I stayed quiet, she might get bored and leave. Or she might get bored and decide to start the carving early. If I spoke, I might say the wrong thing and speed the whole process up. My knees were shaking so hard they were drumming a rhythm against the stone floor.The dungeon was a shithole. That was

SeraDungeon air always tastes of wet pennies and old piss. It’s a stagnant, heavy quality that stays in the back of my throat, making every breath an effort. I stood in the shadows of the corridor, my back pressed against the weeping stone masonry, and tracked the rhythm of my own pulse. It was slow. Methodical. Entirely too calm for a woman who had spent the last forty-eight hours orchestrating a murder and a magical identity theft.I looked at my hands in the dim, flickering orange glow of a wall torch. They were clean, but my skin registered a phantom weight. I could still experience the exact moment I ordered Kael’s end. I could still hear the wet, heavy crack of his neck. In the span of a few weeks, I had stained myself with more blood than I thought existed in the world. Some of it I spilled with my own fists in the dirt ring. Most of it I spilled with my words.The guilt was a dull ache, not a sharp one. That part scared me. I was becoming a version of a woman my father would r