All Chapters of Wolves Of Berlin The Cursed Hybrid : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Beatrice’s POVThe morning light slipped through the blinds of my bedroom at Giraffe Nr. 13, painting soft stripes across the tangled sheets. I woke with a groan, my body aching in ways I didn’t know were possible, my ribs throbbed from last night’s fight, and a delicious soreness pulsed between my legs, a reminder of Charles’s touch. I blinked up, and there he was—Charles Leopold von Edelstein, my cursed prince turned flesh-and-blood savior, sprawled beside me with his dark hair tangled and a lazy smile tugging at his lips. His brown eyes caught mine, warm and intense, and my breath hitched. “Good morning, Princess,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep, sending a shiver down my spine.I shifted, wincing as my legs felt like jelly, barely able to move. “Charles,” I rasped, my voice thick with awe and exhaustion. “I can’t believe you’re real.” He chuckled, rolling onto his side and pulling me into his arms, his warmth enveloping me like a shield. His chest pressed against mine

Beatrice’s POVThe morning sun filtered through the tall windows of Giraffe Nr. 13, casting golden streaks across the living room floor where Linda and I knelt beside Die Wölfe der Nacht. The painting’s wolves stared back at us, their eyes glinting with a haunting intensity under the Prussian moonlight Franziska von Lichtenstein had captured centuries ago. My heart thudded with a blend of nerves and excitement as I adjusted the canvas on the beautiful 20-century coffee table Amands bought me that we’d dragged over.“Alright, Beatrice,” Linda said, her voice steady but buzzing with energy as she pulled out her magnifying glass. “Let’s double-check before we haul this to our school Kunsthaus Morgenlicht. We’ve got the brushstrokes, the varnish, colour and everything screams authentic. But Principal Dietrich’s has the final word.”I nodded, brushing a strand of honey-blonde hair from my face. “Yeah, if anyone can confirm it’s Prussian and worth millions, it’s him. Let’s hope he’s in a

Luke’s POVMarc dragged me through the shadowed gates of Charlottenburg Palace, his howl echoing off the golden sandstone walls, smug, so full of himself, like he’d won the damn war already.I joined in, my light brown wolf baying alongside him, Jake, and Paul, their gray, black, and brown fur rippling in the torchlight. Every fiber of me screamed to slit their throats, to rip out Marc’s smug grin, snap Jake’s wiry neck, gut Paul’s muddy bulk. But I clenched my jaw as my fangs grinded. Patience, I told myself, chest heaving from the Brandenburg fight. This was just the start. I couldn’t twist the knife, not yet.The palace sprawled ahead, its dim-lit splendor swallowing us whole. The air hit me—metallic, iron-sharp, laced with something sweeter, something that tugged at my heartstrings long before I saw her. Velan waited in a corridor, his aristocrat swagger draped in a black velvet coat, silverwhite hair glinting like a blade. He grinned, pale hands snaking around Angelica’s fi

Angelica’s POVI awoke cradled in Luke’s arms, his warmth enveloping me like a velvet embrace. The air in his Charlottenburg Palace room carried his scent—a deep musky scent, a whisper from the wilderness. My cheek rested against his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath me.“Good morning, darling,” he murmured, his voice low and rich from sleep. His lips grazed my forehead, tender and claiming.I tilted my gaze to his, offering a soft smile. “Good morning, Luke.” My tone was gentle, though a tremor lingered, as last night still clung to me. It felt unreal.He smiled back, shifting to cradle my face. “You’re exquisite, Angelica.” Then he kissed me, deeply and fervent, his eyes locked onto mine alone. My breath caught, a shiver of desire curling through me. Velan’s gaze was never this focused, always distracted, his fickle nature a guillotine hovering around my neck.I eased back, breathless. “Luke, this feels… unexpected.” My fingers traced his jaw, feeling the faint rough

Beatrice’s POVWe left the historical and archaeological Pergamon Museum behind, stepping out into the cool evening air.Dust of ancient artifacts clung to my skin, heavy and old. I let out a breath, shaking it off.Charles walked beside me, his arm brushing mine as we headed toward the Alte Nationalgalerie. His arm felt so secure and protective.How could I be so lucky? It felt like my dream would shatter every moment and Hans, Dieter, Victor or Velan would snatch my happiness away.Maybe it was like my father said, no one could love a hybrid with a cursed blood like me?I felt that no matter how hard I tried I always fell short. Isabell was always the favoured one, praised for everything she did and turned out a sociopath. “Almost closing time,” he said, glancing at the dimming sky. “Thought we’d hit the gallery next.””What’s wrong princess, you look so gloomy?” I dug my nails harder into his arm, afraid to let go.”I feel paranoid thinking someone will show up and ruin my happine