All Chapters of My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

CELESTE’S POVThe Lockwood manor had never felt so suffocating.Every chandelier shimmered with sterile perfection, every corner smelled faintly of lemon polish and wood, but underneath it all was the stench of humiliation.Three days had passed since the end of the LST. Three days since Kieran had looked at me as if I were something pitiful, an inconvenience. And then walked away.I’d told myself he just needed time. That after all the noise settled, he’d come crawling back like always—apologizing, rationalizing, making it up to me.That’s how it always went. Kieran might be stubborn and proud, but he was predictable.And he loved me.So when his name flashed on my phone this morning, shock and hope crashed through me, my heart leaping.“Kieran!” I said his name the way one breathes after drowning—half-relief, half-disbelief.“Celeste.” His voice was calm, too calm. “Can we meet? There’s something I need to say in person.”I knew it. I knew he couldn’t stay away for long.“Of course,”

SERAPHINA’S POVThe sight of Kieran hit me like a punch to the gut, twisting my insides with a nauseating churn.He stood by his car, arms crossed, the chilled wind teasing his dark hair into disarray. That familiar brooding expression was painted across his face.For a second, I couldn’t move. I just gripped the steering wheel tighter like it was the last shred of my sanity.Of course he was here.My first thought was bitter and instinctive: He came to defend her again.Maybe Celeste had already run crying to him, spinning some tragic story about me attacking her in front of her “stepson.”And he’d come to tell me off—right here, in front of Daniel—because heaven forbid Saint Celeste ever be at fault.“Mom?” Daniel’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “Why’s Dad here?”My throat was dry. “I’m not sure,” I answered, though I was very sure. It was always the same pattern. Celeste cried wolf; Kieran came running.I parked haphazardly next to the Escalade. The gearshift clicked lo

KIERAN’S POVI didn’t move for a long time after the door slammed shut.The sound of it reverberated through my bones, echoing in time with my thundering heartbeat.I stood there in Sera’s driveway, the night pressing cold and unforgiving around me, staring at the door that separated me from everything I wanted. Everything I’d destroyed.I clenched my fists, feeling Ashar pacing inside my mind—his restlessness rattling through my body, his wounded pride twisting in my gut.‘You had one chance,’ he growled, low and feral. ‘One damned chance to make it right, and you botched it.’“I didn’t botch it,” I muttered under my breath, even though I knew that I had, in fact, royally botched it. “She just… she doesn’t believe me.”‘Why should she?’ Ashar’s voice rose to a roar that vibrated through my skull. ‘You hurt her. Again and again. You refused to mark her, even when I urged you time and time again. You were stubborn. You refused to listen. And now you’re shocked that she turned her back?’

CELESTE’S POVThe whiskey burned down my throat like liquid fire.I slammed the glass onto the counter and motioned for another. The bartender hesitated—probably because I’d already had too many—but one glare from me and he poured anyway.Bass thumped through Luna Noire's overhead speakers, vibrating against the wood and metal like a pulse I couldn’t silence.Around me, laughter and wolf-scent mingled thickly with alcohol and desperation.I hated it. I hated all of it. The stench of weak wolves pretending to matter. The way they looked at me now—like I was just another pretty mess, not the Lockwood princess I was. Not the Blackthorne Queen I was supposed to be.My reflection in the mirror behind the bar looked like a stranger—smudged lipstick, dark-ringed eyes too bright, too sharp, too furious. I barely recognized myself.My mother’s words still rang in my ears, louder than the music.‘You’ve done enough damage, Celeste,’ she’d said, her hands shaking as she gathered up the cookie mes

SERAPHINA’S POVIf I’d known Lucian would be here, I might’ve made an excuse to skip this trip entirely.Not because I hated him—goddess, I wished it were that simple—but because I felt uncertain and exposed. After the Zara bomb, I was struggling to understand the new dynamic between us. I didn't know what I wanted from him or from myself.It had barely been two days since I asked for space. I hadn't learned how to master the art of avoidance.Now, I could only hope I'd figure out how to handle this as it unfolded.For a moment, everything—the laughter, the sunlight, the smell of pine—blurred into background noise.His gaze was steady but cautious, as if he wasn’t sure whether to smile or retreat. He looked older somehow, like our last conversation was twenty years ago, not just a couple of days.His hair was out of its usual neat bun and brushed his shoulders, a little disheveled. His usual poise was replaced with quiet fatigue.I pulled my gaze away from him and turned to Judy, forci