Semua Bab The Bear's Revenge: Bab 101 - Bab 110

A deep, ragged groan vibrated up through Ronan’s bones and into his teeth. The fissure widened in jerks, not smooth but violent, as if the island itself were resisting being peeled apart.Kiera cried out.. not in panic, not in pain, but in shock as the pull strengthened. It wasn’t gravity. Gravity dragged.Whatever this was called.“Hold on to me,” Ronan said, voice too steady to be natural. He wrapped both arms around her this time, one hand cradling the back of her skull, the other locked around her waist like he could cage the world with his body. The bond flared, raw and blinding. For a heartbeat, it felt like standing inside a struck bell, everything ringing, everything vibrating with the same note.The ground dropped.They didn’t fall so much as slide. They scraped along broken stone as the ledge beneath them gave way and pitched inward. Ronan twisted instinctively, taking the brunt of the im

The ground beneath the chamber hadn’t stopped humming since Hale moved. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t violent. It was worse than both—low, constant, felt through bone instead of ear. Like the island itself was holding its breath. Kiera stood perfectly still in the center of the ruined ring, dirt clinging to her knees, blood streaked across one palm. The glow beneath her skin had dimmed from blinding white to something quieter, deeper—like embers buried under ash. Not gone. Never gone. Ronan stayed a single step behind her. He hadn’t touched her since the last pulse. Not because he didn’t want to—every instinct screamed to anchor, to shield, to hold—but because he knew the line now. If he crowded her, if he pulled too hard, something inside her would snap shut. And Hale would win. Across the chamber, Dr. Hale adjusted the device in his hand. I

The creature did not speak. It didn’t need to. The moment Kiera’s breath steadied in its presence, the world tilted—not physically, but internally. Thought unraveled into sensation. Time loosened. The chamber faded, replaced by something vast and layered, like standing inside a mountain and realizing it was alive. Ronan felt it too—a sudden pressure behind the eyes, a gravity tugging at his chest. He stayed where he was, muscles coiled, watching as Kiera lifted her chin and met the creature’s gaze. The glow deepened. Images poured—not forced, not invasive—offered. Stone upon stone. Roots knitting shattered faults. The island before people had names for it. Before ships scraped its shores. Before wounds were cut. Kiera swayed. Ronan took a step forward—and stopped as the creature angled its head, warning without hostility. Kiera is

They did not leave immediately. The island would not let them. Not anymore in the way it once had—no soft redirection of paths, no sudden fog or broken trails—but in the way an exhausted body refuses to move when the heart is still pounding too hard. The mountain had sealed its wounds. The ground had gone quiet. And everyone in the clearing felt the hollow aftermath of survival. Kiera lay curled against Ronan’s chest, her breathing shallow but steady. The tremors had faded, leaving behind a bone‑deep ache that made every movement feel borrowed. She was not unconscious—her mind would not grant her that mercy—but she was distant, gaze fixed somewhere inside herself, as if listening for something that would not return. Ronan sat with his back against a weather‑gnarled tree, one arm braced behind him, the other locked around her with a possessiveness he did not try to temper. The bears remained still around the

The island did not sleep anymore. It listened. Kiera felt it the moment she crossed the broken ridge where the earth still steamed from the fissure. The ground beneath her bare feet hummed faintly, like a breath held too long. Trees leaned toward her, their roots twisting up through cracked soil as though drawn by a gravity that had nothing to do with weight. She slowed. Ronan did not tell her to stop—but she felt the warning all the same, sliding through the bond with the subtle pressure of his concern. You feel it too, she sent, the thought shakier than she wanted. Yes, he answered immediately. And it doesn’t like being awake. Behind them, the bears fanned out in a protective half‑circle, enormous shapes half‑hidden by mist and leaf. No one spoke. Thorn’s gaze tracked the forest constantly, while Mira murmured something under he