Semua Bab HIS SUBSTITUTE MATE’S REVENGE: Bab 11 - Bab 20

"Platt, I believe you were in the middle of a very enlightening lecture on how the women of the Crowne pack are merely 'eye candy' for your entertainment?"The sneer on Platt’s face didn't just fade; it turned into a mask of frozen terror as he swiveled toward the mahogany doors. Standing there was Alpha Tristan Crowne. He didn't just enter the room; he dominated the air within it. His tactical suit, tailored to perfection, emphasized the lethal power in his shoulders, and his golden eyes were twin fires in the dim light.The temperature in the den seemed to plummet ten degrees.But what left the Sky Tech wolves truly speechless was the woman in his arms. I was pressed against his chest, my face flushed with the heat of the moon-distilled spirit and the early stages of a pregnancy I was still hiding. Tristan’s hand was firm on my waist, pulling me into a contact that screamed of an intimate, dangerous possession.The room erupted into frantic whispers."Is that the Ashford girl?""I t

"I thought you said you were bedridden, Tristan. Or does the 'Alpha’s fever' only flare up when you aren't parading your prize through the Ironfang District?"I didn't turn around. I kept my gaze fixed on Roy Dominguez, maintaining the poised, professional mask of an Ashford. My bun was tight, my suit understated, but inside, my heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. This was a side of the 'substitute Luna' Tristan had never seen—the lethal, tactical mind of a fallen bloodline.Selene’s voice drifted over my shoulder, a high-pitched trill of feigned shock. "Tristan, look! Is that Lyra? I thought she was at the cottage 'recovering.' What on earth is she doing here with the head of Maple Group?"I could feel Tristan’s stare burning into the back of my neck. He remained silent, but the air around us grew heavy with the scent of his territorial rage.Selene grasped his arm, her voice dripping with poison. "Is she really negotiating business without the Council’s approval

"Go with her, Tristan," I said, my voice as cold as the sterile tiles of the hospital floor.I didn't look at them. I sat on the hard plastic bench, my fingers tangled in the expensive fabric of my skirt. I was a substitute—a placeholder in a bloodline that didn't want me—and watching Tristan Crowne hover over Selene Voss was a reminder that some bonds were written in ink, while others were etched in the soul.Tristan’s jaw tightened, his golden eyes flashing with a derisive, predatory light as he glanced at Damien, who was still standing protectively by my side. "Am I interrupting your little reunion with the Ashford loyalist?"Irritation, hot and jagged, flared in my chest. "Tristan, I am not the one playing games. I called you because—""OUCH!"The cry cut through my explanation like a jagged blade. Selene had 'tripped,' her slender form hitting the floor with a soft thud. She held up her palm, which was already blooming with a bright red abrasion, and her eyes welled with tears th

"I am so sorry for intruding like this. I never meant to cause any distress. This is all my fault," Selene whimpered, her shoulders shaking with a calculated fragility that made my skin crawl.She stood at the foot of my hospital bed, dabbing at her eyes as if I were the villain in her tragic romance. I watched her, the heavy silence of the ward pressing against my chest. Every word she spoke felt like a silver needle pricking at my patience. I knew that anything I said would be twisted into an attack on her "fragile" heart.Suddenly, the rhythmic pulse of the heart monitor spiked into a frantic, high-pitched scream.The door burst open. Elliot Pierce and Jim Archer rushed in, their faces tight with professional alarm."The patient needs absolute silence to stabilize," Jim barked, his eyes flashing with a reprimand as they landed squarely on Selene.Selene flinched, her act of exaggerated sorrow faltering. She hadn't expected the pack doctor to turn his claws on her. She bit her lip,

"You really expect me to believe your crocodile tears, Selene?" I spat, my voice raw from the smoke of the Ironfang intersection.Selene paused her methodical peeling of the apple, the silver blade gleaming under the sterile hospital lights. She arched an eyebrow, her expression shifting into one of practiced, sisterly pity. "I told Tristan about the pup, Lyra. I urged him to leave my side at the clinic to come to you. But he refused. He told me that an Ashford’s blood is thin—not worth the effort of a rescue."She sliced a perfect crescent of fruit, holding it out as if offering a peace treaty wrapped in poison. "You see, in the hierarchy of the Crowne Dominion, you and that seed you’re carrying don’t weigh as much as my shadow."The words felt like a silver-tipped arrow to my heart. So, Tristan had known. He had known his heir was in that burning transport, and he had chosen to keep his hands on Selene’s wrists instead of pulling me from the wreckage.I had been a fool. I thought if