Semua Bab The Bear's Revenge: Bab 71 - Bab 80

Kiera dreamed.But it wasn’t a dream the way dreams used to be.There was no chaos. No screaming static. No panicked scrambling for exits.This place was quiet.Too quiet.She stood barefoot on cold tile, her reflection wavering faintly in polished metal walls that stretched far past what should have been possible. The room had no doors—only a long, straight corridor ahead, glowing faintly at the far end.She knew this place. She knew that she had been here before. But when?Even though she’d never seen it before. But she knew that in her past she had been here.Deeper, a voice whispered—not cruel, not gentle. Simply certain.Kiera took a hesitant step forward.The floor shuddered under her foot. Kiera leapt back before taking a steadying breath and stepping forward again.Images bled into the walls as she walked.—not memories she’d lived—But recordings.Ch

Ronan woke with Kiera’s name tearing through him. Not on his lips. In his bones. He surged upright so fast the stone beneath him cracked, breath coming ragged, claws half‑extended before he was even fully conscious. The lab corridor around them pulsed with light—sick, artificial white pouring from fixtures embedded deep in the ceiling seams. Alarms hadn’t sounded yet, but something was wrong. He could feel it the way a bear feels an avalanche before it breaks. Kiera lay where he’d set her down, her body eerily still against the cold concrete. “Kiera,” he said aloud this time, careful to keep his voice low, steady. He dropped to his knees beside her and hovered his hands over her without touching, every instinct screaming to pull her into his chest. She didn’t move. Her lashes fluttered once. Then her breath shuddered in—sharp, shallow, wrong.

Falling was not an action. It was a surrender. The white corridor shattered into fragments of light and glass, breaking away beneath Ronan’s feet as if reality itself had decided they were no longer worth supporting. Kiera screamed his name inside the mindscape—raw, panicked, endless—and the sound ripped through him harder than any physical blow. Ronan tightened his grip around her without thinking. The world tilted. Then dropped. They fell through layers. Not downward in a straight line, but through—past rooms that peeled away like half‑remembered dreams. He saw flashes as they plunged: A metal table bolted to the floor. A child’s hand slamming against glass. A technician flinching as monitors screamed. The fragments spun faster, overlapping, collapsing into one another until Ronan couldn’t tell where the lab ended a

The moment Kiera collapsed, the world fractured. Not metaphorically. Literally. The cavern walls screamed. That was the only word for it—stone whining under pressure as cracking lines of light raced outward from where she fell. Dust billowed from the ceiling. The air vibrated with an invisible force that rattled Ronan’s bones through his paws and sent the bear skidding backward with a furious roar. “Kiera!” Ronan hit the ground hard on one knee, claws carving trenches through rock as he fought the force pushing him away. His ears rang. His vision blurred at the edges, the world buckling like it couldn’t decide what shape it was meant to hold. Kiera lay at the center of it. Not moving. Her body was rigid, limbs locked at unnatural angles, eyes open—and empty. That empty was worse than unconsciousness. Ronan had

The chamber was not a room. It was a wound. That was the first thought that forced its way through Kiera’s mind as they stepped across the threshold. The air changed instantly—cooler, heavier, threaded with a faint chemical tang that scraped across old memories she had buried under years of forest and silence. The tunnel opened into a vast circular space carved directly into the island’s bedrock. Unlike the clinical white corridors she remembered, this place had been stripped bare by time and reclamation. Roots cracked through the ceiling like skeletal fingers gripping stone. Moss crept across the walls in thick veins. Rusted metal ribbing pulsed faintly where the rock should have closed it over entirely, refusing to disappear, refusing to let the island forget. The lights flickered to life one by one. Not overhead. Embedded in the walls—thin slits that cast long, uneven shadows