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Home / Romance / Till The End of The World / Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

All Chapters of Till The End of The World : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

41 Chapters

1. The Betrayal

CLARA."What the fuck is happening, Alaric?!"The door slams open under my hand, the sound echoing through the room, loud and violent, matching the storm raging inside me.“What is going on?!”My voice cuts through the air, sharp, shaking with fury I can’t control, burning my throat raw as it tears out of me.The fuck. I can’t believe my eyes.Alaric turns sharply, Emma freezes beside him, stepping away a second later, fixing her dress, but it's too late, I have already seen enough, the scent of sweat and sex still thick in the air.“You said…” My voice trembles in fury. “You said you were just friends.”My supposed husband doesn’t answer, just looks at me with that same calm expression that makes something tighten in my chest.That same look.He knows. He fucking knows."You know?" My nostrils flare.“Choose your accusation carefully, Clara.”"You know, Alaric!" I snap, my steps heavy as I move closer, each step echoing too loudly in the room, like I’m the only one making noise in a

2. Moon Goddess

CLARA Everything goes silent, not like death. Worse, like the world forgets I exist. The pain, the weight, the sound of my own blood—gone. And then I’m falling, not down, not anywhere, just… through something endless and bright. Light surrounds me from every direction, soft and warm, like the air itself is breathing. I don’t have a body or maybe I do, but I don't feel it anymore. I drift and drift until I see her. A woman standing where there should be nothing. White hair, long and flowing like it isn’t affected by gravity. Her dress moves like it’s made of light itself, shifting gently even though there’s no wind. How old is she? And what shampoo is she using to have that long hair? “So you’re the one,” she says softly, her eyes suddenly on me. Her voice isn’t loud, it doesn’t need to be, yet it fills everything anyway. “You know, if this is heaven, it’s kind of underwhelming.” “This isn’t heaven.” She smiles. “Oh good,” I mutter. “Because I was worried this was going to b

3. Reborn

CLARA. "Do you take Alaric Voss as your lawfully wedded husband?” The priest’s voice echoes, distant, unclear. I can’t breathe. Blood—there’s my blood… my flesh—ah—it’s tearing, hot, wet, slipping through my fingers. Wolf… its claws, teeth, ripping me. I’m… my— My fingers twitch, and I’m back, my eyes snapping open. The world snaps into place. There’s soft music playing somewhere around, and flowers—the faint scent of roses and polished wood. I look down at myself. I’m wearing a white dress, layers of it, too fluffy, too floral for my liking, but I have seen this before… I have. My eyes snap up and my breath stills. Alaric. He’s standing before me, in a perfect black tux, that same calm expression. My wedding. It’s my wedding. The bouquet slips from my hands, gasps rippling through the crowd as I stumble back. No—no, no, no— I don’t wait. I turn and run, the doors, the people—everything blurring past me. My heartbeat thunders in my ears as I gather my dr

4. The Fall

CLARA I look up slowly. And meet a pair of dark brown eyes. Too dark that the night felt lighter in comparison. Fuck. “If you’re going to die," the man's voice blooms, low, edged, not at all panicked, "at least make it worth it." The— Before I can even process them, my body jerks upward. His grip tightens around my wrist, warm, solid, unyielding and he pulls me up in one clean motion. The world tilts, air rushing past my face in a sharp, biting gust as my feet lose the ledge completely and then I’m inside. God, I'm never jumping again. I stumble forward, landing inside, my palms scraping lightly against the floor. Air rushes back into my lungs as I push myself up and look at him. Great. First night here and I'm already throwing myself out of windows and scraping my hands. Outstanding start, Clara. He's tall. Fucking damn tall. Who the hell grows this much? Was there a secret werewolf fertilizer I didn't know about? Like six-two, maybe more, shoulders broad enough to block

5. Breakfast

CLARA The next morning comes too fast. It drags me out of sleep like something unfinished, something clawing its way back.For a second, I don’t move.The ceiling above me should feel unfamiliar—yet it isn’t. Sunlight spills through the stained glass, breaking into soft fragments across the white ceiling, scattering color where there should be none. My fingers twitch against the sheets, the fabric cool and smooth beneath my skin, and I sink deeper into the pillow.How surprising can life be? One day I was the happiest woman alive, with a kind husband and a perfect family, a future that looked… safe. Then the next day, I'm killed by that same kindness.Surprise, surprise.I exhale slowly, staring up at the ceiling again, grounding myself in the silence. It's just… a morning.“Great,” I mutter under my breath, dragging a hand over my face. “Round two.”I swing my legs off the bed, the cold marble floor biting instantly into my bare feet. The chill shoots up my spine, sharp enough to w

6. Rules

CLARA “Oh?” I murmur, my head tilting slightly. “That sounds like a you problem.” “A problem I intend to solve,” he bites back. I lean further back into my chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Keep your heroic acts to yourself.” “As long as you keep your adventurous personality to yourself.” Oh, absolute fuckingly. “I can’t promise.” I shrug, and he doesn’t even blink, just looks at me like I’m a mildly disappointing assignment handed to him by fate itself. Rude. Much. The silence stretches between us, heavy and sharp. Outside the windows, morning sunlight spills across the polished floors, too warm for the situation. He remains standing a couple feet away, watching me like a hawk. Annoying. Doesn’t he have any other work? “Stop staring,” I finally say. “I wasn’t.” I let out a soft gasp. “Clearly.” Deciding enough is enough, I push myself up from the chair, grabbing the napkin beside my plate and tossing it carelessly onto the table. “Well then, Superman,” I say, ste

7. The Palace

CLARA “I won't let you die again.” The words slam into me so hard my heartbeat stutters. Again. The room suddenly feels smaller. The air is heavier. Every instinct in me screams at once. My mouth goes dry as I stare at him, trying to laugh it off, trying to focus on something else but nothing comes. Because he isn’t joking. There’s no confusion in his face, no hesitation. Just certainty. Cold fear crawls slowly up my spine. No. No, that’s impossible. Was he reborn too? Does he remembers everything? Then others—no. My thoughts cut off sharply. His gaze doesn’t leave mine, and somehow that makes it worse, because it feels like he can see the panic spreading through me in real time. What the fuck does he know? “What?” The word comes out smaller than I intended, thin around the edges. Evan doesn’t move. He’s still standing too close, close enough that I feel like he's interrogating me and already decided the end. Then, finally— “The same way I saved y

8. Morning

CLARAWatching your husband sleep after he murdered you is a very strange experience.Especially when he looks... peaceful.The morning light spills across Alaric’s face in soft gold, catching against strands of brown hair that fall carelessly over his forehead, longer at the top and slightly tousled from sleep. His beard is neatly trimmed, sharp enough to make him look refined rather than rugged, every detail controlled even in rest. The sharp line of his jaw is relaxed now, his expression calm in a way that almost feels wrong. One arm rests lazily over the blanket, his breathing deep and steady, like he doesn’t have a single sin weighing down his chest.Unbelievable, honestly.I stand near the bed quietly, arms crossed, staring at the man who once watched me die without blinking.And the worst part?If I didn’t know the truth, I would still think he was beautiful.Disgusting.His brows shift slightly after a moment, instincts pulling him awake. His eyes open slowly, unfocused at fir

9. A Human

CLARA “Your nails are trimmed too short, you barely wear makeup, your hair’s natural, and you can’t tolerate sitting still for more than ten minutes.” The fuck. Slowly, I look down at my own hands, then back at him. “You analyzed me?” “I observed you.” “Why?” His expression doesn’t move an inch, but something shifts behind his eyes, something sharp enough to make my stomach tighten slightly. Not because he insulted me. Because he noticed. My nails. The hair. These tiny things. Stupid things. But people don’t notice tiny things unless they’re paying attention constantly. And suddenly, standing this close to him again, I realize something deeply, deeply unfortunate. Evan might actually be dangerous. Not in the loud way wolves are. No claws, teeth, or violence. No. He’s dangerous in the quiet way, the observing way. The kind of danger that notices patterns before you realize you’re making them. And for the first time since coming back— I realize he co

10. Hobby

CLARA Before I can ask anything else, the car comes to a sudden halt, my hand slamming against the dashboard. “What the—” Evan’s arm shoots across my chest before I can lurch forward into the windshield, his other hand still gripping the steering wheel. The movement happens too fast to process, instinctive and sharp, but what actually steals my breath is the way his entire body twists toward mine immediately after, shielding me completely. A truck cuts recklessly across the road outside before speeding away through the rain-slick street. For one second, everything goes silent except my heartbeat pounding against my ribs. The scent of rain and cold leather fills the car, his sleeve pressed against my chest, his body still half-leaning over mine like he hasn’t fully realized what he just did. Then slowly, very slowly, he pulls back, jaw tight, fingers still curled around the steering wheel. “You drive like a maniac,” I breathe out. “That wasn’t me.” “Well someone almo

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