Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 31 - Chapitre 40

The heir has arrived

The hall was built long before I was born.The ceiling arched high overhead, beams blackened by decades of smoke and ceremony. Iron chandeliers hung low, their light too warm to be comforting. The stone floor had been scrubbed until the pack crest carved into its center gleamed like something sacred.At the far end, the ceremonial platform rose three deliberate steps above the crowd.Not high enough to call it a throne.High enough to remind everyone who stood above them.It is all beautiful in the way ice is beautiful.Polished. Pristine.Lethal.But beautiful nonethelessBanners lined the walls. Allied packs. The Council insignia. Our own sigil, enormous and unapologetic behind the platform.Power, carefully framed.Guards stood at each entrance.Two more by the eastern pillars.Still predictable.I take my place where the shadows from the banners fall thickest. My eyes stay fixed on the dais. A glass of dark liquid rests in my hand. I lift it occasionally, letting it touch my lips

The green of his eyes

In the history of packs worldwide, coronation ceremonies are the most dangerous hours of an Alpha bloodline’s existence. There's a saying that these ceremonies could make or break a bloodline. Seventy five percent of heirs face a challenge for dominance before the rite concludes. Tonight, no one steps forward. No one dares. There is something different about him since he's returned. Everyone in this hall can sense it. The blood oath is taken in absolute silence. Damon slices his palm without flinching. A single drop strikes the ancestral sigil carved into the stone. It spreads slowly, deliberate as fate. The crescent mark is drawn across his forehead in black ceremonial dust. Stark. Claiming. The relic follows. He lifts the ancient blade of the Eastern pack with steady hands, holds it aloft for the hall to witness. No tremor. No hesitation. When it ends, there is no doubt left in the room. Council members step forward one by one, pressing their blessings to his shoulders.

Bond

I’m not sure when I send the blade flying, but in one second my hand is empty. I vaguely hear the sound of metal cutting through the air. In the next second, It slices through candlelight, haze and history. Then— Impact. Not the clean, hollow plunge I rehearsed a hundred times in my head. There’s resistance. A sickening scrape. Metal meeting flesh, then bone. A sharp, strangled inhale. The blade does not sink where it should. It does not reach his heart. It lands lower. And Damon does not fall. I have played this moment in my head far too many times for it to be healthy. He always falls in my imagination. Clutching his chest as blood spurts out. I don't have enough time to investigate anything. I run. Not a graceful retreat. Not calculated. Run. My body moves before my mind catches up. Soon I'm out of the hallway and back into the crowded hall. I maneuver my way through the people, trying to get myself as far away from Damon as possible. The h

Heartbeats

“Mia?” Someone is saying my name. I don’t know who. The corridor tilts. I think I’m falling. No. I am falling. Strong hands band around me before I hit the ground. I’m pulled flush against a solid chest. The world stops spinning only because he holds it still. “Mia,” the familiar voice says again, sharper now. Worried. “Cole?” My voice barely forms the name. “Yes. It’s me.” He shifts, bracing me fully against him. One arm around my back. The other steady at my waist. “What happened to you?” “They’re coming for me,” I whisper into his shirt. The words scrape out of me. Shrill. Unfamiliar. “Who?” His grip tightens. “Why?” “Everyone,” I breathe. “I just tried to kill their Alpha.” The confession hangs between us like a dropped blade. For half a heartbeat, he goes completely still. Then he moves. One arm slides beneath my knees. The other braces my back. He lifts me effortlessly. The motion jolts the pain beneath my ribs and I gasp, fingers fisting

The Alpha's orders

I write a letter addressed to Mum and then one to Talia. I hand it to Sandy, who eyes the paper like it’s a live grenade. Her fingers hover over it before she takes it, slow and reluctant. I offer a weak smile. “Thank you for all your help, Sandy. I owe you.” She snorts, barely hiding her scowl. “You bet you do. But I don’t see any way of you paying up, so you might as well be on your way.” I turn toward the door, resigned. There’s no friendship here—not when I’m putting Cole’s life at risk. “Mia.” I freeze, hand on the door handle, and glance over my shoulder. “Be careful,” she says, her tone softer now. “And don’t let Cole get into too much trouble. Some trouble’s okay… but not too much.” I return her smile. “I won’t.” She nods, exhales a long, measured breath, and waves me off. Outside, Cole is already pulling the car out of the shadows. It isn’t his usual vehicle. A rare, unassuming one—perfect for tonight. I slide into the passenger seat, heart hammering. “Se

Earth and rusted metal

Goddess, my face hurts.The air is thick with the smell of earth and rusted metal.I turn my head, trying to adjust my position, but regret it almost immediately.Pain shoots through my skull. Heavy. Unforgiving.My head throbs, each pulse sharp enough to blur the edges of my vision. The world tilts—not enough to knock me down, just enough to make everything feel slightly off, like I’m walking inside someone else’s body.I have no idea how long I’ve been here. I woke to a searing pain in my skull and my wrists bound in metal.I had called out for someone. Anyone.It was more an act of defiance than strategy.I was answered with silence.The cuffs clink when I move, a small, humiliating sound that echoes louder than the pounding in my head.The metal bites—cold, heavy, unforgiving against my skin.They sit right against my pulse, and every beat drives the metal deeper into my wrists, a dull, persistent ache that refuses to be ignored.I straighten anyway.I refuse to look weak.I refus

Inmate

My thoughts refuse to calm as I lower myself onto the rough floor of my cell.I wonder if I’ll be summoned anytime soon. They can’t possibly leave me here forever. I’d have to be tried by the Alpha, before the were council.I wonder what would happen to Cole. He didn’t know anything about my plan, but he’d be considered an accomplice because he tried to help me escape. And there’s the fact that he is the Gamma.He betrayed the pack for me.“You’re thinking too loudly.”The voice cuts through me. Low.Low but certain.My body reacts before my mind does.I freeze.Not fully at first.I turn towards the direction of those words.Then I freeze completely.I’m not alone.Bars. Shadows. Stillness.And then—A shape.I hadn’t noticed it before.I should have.All this while, I couldn’t have been alone. Because voices do not grow out of stone walls.I study the cell closely, my throat tightening. I don’t speak. Not because I choose not to. But because something in me refuses to.A pause stret

Captain Commentary & the Creepy Psychic

“I don’t understand,” I say, looking between the two shapes bathed in shadow. “You guys were here the entire time?”“Yep,” the male answers.“Why didn’t you say anything when I was yelling my lungs out?”“We figured you were still getting settled. Didn’t want to disturb you.”I glare at his cell, even though I know he probably can’t see me through the darkness.The female, who I’m now mentally calling Creepy Psychic, doesn’t say anything. She’s been quiet the entire time I’ve been talking to Captain Commentary. I get the feeling she doesn’t like talking much. Except when it’s to terrorize unsuspecting souls.“Are we the only ones in this aisle?” I ask, noting that no other presence has made itself known since Captain Commentary started narrating my existence.“No. Just us. This aisle’s for the really, really bad guys.” He pauses thoughtfully. “I guess trying to murder an Alpha counts as really, really bad.”“Can you stop bringing that up?”“Nope.”I sigh.“I’m curious. It’s the most i

A room fit for a prisoner

I have no idea what to expect. However, I don’t let myself cower as they lead me away. Up from the underground level of the establishment. My prison mates don’t say anything more, and the guards don’t acknowledge them either. In fact, they seem to avoid their cells entirely. When the warm breeze of the compound hits my skin, I close my eyes and savor the sensation. I breathe in deeply, letting the fresh air fill my lungs. It contrasts sharply with the damp, mold-ridden air of the cells. I wonder how I’ll survive another second down there if they take me back. They lead me to a black car, my hands cuffed behind my back. I’m still wearing the clothes I changed into at Cole’s place before we headed to the border. A black T-shirt and a pair of slacks that barely fit around my waist. Now they’re smeared with dirt and whatever filth lived in that cell. Buildings and trees blur past as one of the pack guards drives us toward the pack house. At least, I assume that’s where we’re going

A black dress

“Why?” I ask, looking at the female with total confusion. She scowls. “Because you are filthy.” She gives me a slow once-over. “But… why?” I gape at her. What she’s saying is beyond reason. Does she not know who I am? Has she mistaken me for someone else? Nothing about this makes sense. “Because you have come in contact with dirt, mold, and goddess knows what else,” she says, clearly fed up. “Hence your terrible state.” But I’m not done. I will not willingly step into that bathtub, no matter how nice or entrancing it smells, until I understand the full ramifications of doing so. I say nothing. I just stare at her, my expression unchanged. She sighs and presses her thumb and forefinger to her temples. “Please. Just get into the tub so I can get you ready.” Her tone is almost pleading. I don’t let it soften me. “Get me ready for what?” I snap. She shakes her head as if she’s dealing with a petulant child. I almost snort. She looks barely older than me, with chestnut br

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