Semua Bab HOTTIE NEXT DOOR: Bab 51 - Bab 60

Arielle's POV The barrier shatters like glass. I feel it in my bones that sickening crack of magic collapsing, Marcus's power giving way beneath the weight of Rowan's army. The sound rips through the night, and then they're everywhere. Wolves pouring over the estate walls like a tide of teeth and fury, their howls splitting the darkness. Victor is already moving, his body blurring as he throws himself into the fray. I see him tear through three wolves in the span of a heartbeat, his claws dripping crimson, his eyes blazing with a ferocity that makes my wolf howl in response. Michael is beside him, a knife in each hand, moving with the precision of a man who's been fighting his whole life. Gideon fights like a demon possessed, his sword singing through the air, cutting down anyone who gets too close. And my dad I almost don't recognize him. The man who once treated me like dirt is standing on the mansion steps, a gun in his trembling hands, firing into the crowd of wolves. His fac

Victor's POV I wake to darkness and the smell of something I can't really understand My body feels like it's been put through a grinder every muscle screaming, every bone aching. The poison is gone, flushed from my system by Arielle's blood, but the aftermath lingers. I'm weak. Drained. But I'm alive. And then I remember. Arielle. I bolt upright, my vision swimming, my heart hammering against my ribs. The makeshift medical tent spins around me, cots and supplies blurring together. I scan frantically for her golden hair, her familiar face, her. Nothing. She's not here. "Arielle!" Her name tears from my throat, raw and desperate. I try to stand, but my legs give out, sending me crashing to the ground. The pain is nothing. Fear is everything. Michael appears at the tent flap, his face pale and grim. I've known him for years seen him through countless battles, countless horrors. I've never seen him look like this. "Victor," he says, crossing to me quickly. "You need t

Arielle's POV The chains fall away, and I collapse into Victor's arms. My body is screaming every nerve ending on fire, every muscle trembling with exhaustion. The ritual had been draining me, pulling something deep and ancient from my core. I felt it slipping away, felt Helen's magic trying to claim it, to bend it to her will. But I held on. I held on because I knew Victor would come. I held on because I knew my mother would find a way. And now I'm here, cradled against his chest, his heart pounding beneath my ear. He's warm and solid and real, and I cling to him like he's the only anchor in a storm. "I've got you," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. "I've got you, Arielle. You're safe." I want to laugh at that. Safe? I don't think I'll ever feel truly safe again. Not after everything I've learned. Not after everything I've seen. But in his arms, I can pretend. Just for a moment. "Victor," I whisper, my voice cracking. "Helen—she's—" "I know." His grip tightens. "I kn

Arielle's POV The darkness presses in from all sides, thick and suffocating. I can't see anything not my hands, not the walls, not even the faintest glimmer of light. But I feel the cold stone beneath me, damp and rough, and I smell the familiar scent of mildew and ancient decay. I'm back in a cell. Of course I am. My head throbs with a dull, persistent ache. I try to raise my hands to touch the wound, but they're bound behind my back, the ropes biting into my wrists. I struggle against them, but it's useless. They're too tight, too secure. And worse so much worse I can't feel Victor. The bond is there, I know it is. I feel its faint presence at the edge of my consciousness, like a candle burning in a distant room. But it's muffled. Suppressed. Someone has blocked it, cut me off from the connection that has been my anchor through everything. "No," I whisper, panic clawing at my chest. "No, no, no. Victor. Victor!" My voice echoes off the stone walls, bouncing back at me distort

Arielle's POV The days that follow are a blur of healing and recovery. I spend most of my time in the pack's medical wing, my body slowly repairing itself from the ordeal. The healers come and go, checking my vitals, applying poultices to my wounds, murmuring about how lucky I am to be alive. I let them do their work, too exhausted to argue, too drained to care. Victor never leaves my side. He's there when I wake, his hand wrapped around mine, his eyes dark with concern. He's there when I eat, coaxing me to take another bite, another sip. He's there when I sleep, his warmth a constant presence against my back. "You need to rest too," I tell him one evening, when the shadows under his eyes have grown so dark they look like bruises. "You can't keep watching over me like this." He shakes his head, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I'm not leaving you. Not ever again." I want to argue, but the truth is, I don't want him to leave. I need him here, grounding me, reminding me that I'm