Todos los capítulos de The King's Hart : Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

Celeste's nod was the only warning I got.The room exploded—not with fire, but with pressure. The same bone-deep hum I'd felt at the arena, at the warehouse, in every moment Jace's eyes had turned gold. Gregory's wife raised her hand, and a wave of force slammed into Marcus and Ava, throwing them against the far wall. Ava's camera clattered to the floor, still recording. Marcus crumpled and didn't get up."Don't kill them," Celeste said, her voice eerily calm. "You need witnesses.""I need obedient children." Their mother descended the stairs, her gold eyes fixed on me. "You've been a thorn in my side since the night you bandaged my son's cheek. Do you know how carefully I planned everything? The fire. The threats. The detective act. All designed to isolate Jace, to push him past the breaking point. And then you—" Her voice hardened. "You grounded him. You pulled him back from the edge with nothing but words.""She's not the one you're angry at." Celeste struggled to her feet, her bou

The sparks rained down like dying stars, and in their flickering light, Coach Reeves smiled. It wasn't the gruff, impatient expression I'd seen across a hundred practices. It was the smile of a man who'd been waiting four hundred years for this moment and was savoring every second. Jace stumbled backward, his hand catching the edge of the rink boards. His eyes were flickering—blue, gold, blue, gold—the same war I'd seen at the warehouse. The same battle between the boy he wanted to be and the monster his blood demanded he become."Don't fight it," Reeves said. His voice resonated at a frequency that made my teeth ache. "Your parents wanted to bind you. Your sister wanted to save you. But your coach?" He stepped onto the ice, and the surface didn't crack beneath his weight—it glowed. "Your coach wants to see what you're really capable of.""Get away from him." Celeste moved faster than I could follow. One moment she was beside me, and the next she was between Jace and Reeves, her gold

Margot Valcourt's gold eyes swept over us like a predator assessing prey. She stood in the hallway of her own compound, perfectly still, perfectly calm, as if finding five intruders in her foyer was a minor inconvenience rather than a security breach. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek knot. Her clothes were elegant and understated—black turtleneck, tailored pants. She looked like a CEO, not the head of a four-hundred-year-old supernatural dynasty. And somehow, that made her more terrifying."You broke into my home," she said, her voice smooth as polished glass. "You disabled my security system. You stole confidential documents. And now you're standing in my foyer like deer caught in headlights." She tilted her head. "I assume you have a good explanation."Jace stepped in front of me, positioning himself as a shield. "Your agent tried to kill us. Reeves spent four years manipulating me, triggering my power, waiting for the right moment to harvest it. You'll forgive us if we want

Three weeks until the draft. Three weeks until every scout, every agent, and every supernatural bloodline in the country converged on our city to watch Jace Kingston step onto the ice. And somewhere out there, an unknown enemy was counting down the days, too. I stared at the text message until the words blurred, then shoved my phone into my pocket before I could reply. Whoever had sent it wasn't Valcourt.They weren't friends. And they were waiting for exactly the right moment to strike. Jace stood beside me in the frozen parking lot, his breath fogging in the early morning air. Marcus and Ava had already gone inside my apartment building, giving us space they somehow knew we needed. The sky was pale gold now, the colour of his eyes when the power surfaced."Whoever sent that message knows about the draft," I said. "They know about the families. They know about you.""Then they also know I'm not hiding anymore." Jace turned to face me, and even exhausted, even bruised, he looked stead

Helena Frost had replaced Reeves three days ago, and I hadn't thought twice about her. She was stern, efficient, and completely unremarkable—the kind of coach the athletic department would assign after a scandal, someone safe and boring who wouldn't make headlines. But now I was standing in the freezing parking lot with Jace's phone in my hand and a text that made my blood run cold.Don't trust the new coach.I read it again. Then again. The words didn't change. "You think she's Volkov?""I think someone wants us to think she is." Jace took his phone back and stared at the screen. "The text said the Ashfords have a representative at the draft too. Someone we know. Someone we trust. That could be Helena. Or it could be a lie designed to make us suspicious of the wrong person.""Divide and conquer.""Classic strategy." He pocketed the phone. "Whoever sent these messages has been one step ahead of us since the beginning. They knew about the arena. They knew about Reeves. They knew about