Semua Bab Fake Bond of the Lycan Lords : Bab 111 - Bab 120

Betty POV"Hello again, Betty."The words cut through the dead white silence. I did not turn around. I knew that voice. I knew the cold, heavy scent of lilies and ozone that came with it."I am sick of this," I said. My voice sounded flat in the empty space. "I am completely sick of dying."The Moon Goddess stepped into my line of sight. Her bare feet did not make a sound on the white stone. She wore a shift that looked like liquid silver, but her face was just a blur of blinding light."I understand your frustration," she whispered. "But you are the one who keeps stopping blades with your chest.""Because people keep trying to kill me," I snapped. I dug my fingernails into my palms. The pain was dull here, like it was happening through a thick layer of wool. "Why am I back here? I was just on the grass. Adriel was holding me. Mitchell was there.""You are here because you are fragile, Betty." She tilted her head. The

Betty POV"Drink the water, Betty."The words do not belong to me. They drop out of my own mouth, but the voice is deep and heavy.I snap my eyes open. The wet heat of the fountain is gone. The smell of Kori, the blood of Novalee, the heavy stone walls of the castle yard, all gone."Wake up, Betty."My feet sink into something hot and loose. I look down. White sand buries my toes. I pull my left foot up, but more sand slides down from a steep ridge to fill the hole. I am standing on the peak of a massive hill.I spin round. There is nothing but white. The sky above is not blue. It is a dull, flat grey that looks like dead ash. The air does not move. There is no wind. There is no sound.I close my eyes and squeeze my fists until my nails bite into my palms. I try to reach inward.April?Silence. The wolf inside my chest is completely gone. I cannot feel her fur. I cannot feel her growl. My mind is a hollow room.

Betty POVLuca stands on the stone floor of the ancient courtyard. The older woman stands directly in front of him. They move together with a terrifying, rhythmic precision. It looks exactly like a mother guiding her son through a dance.But there is no magic here.I stare at his hands. I expect sparks. I expect the air to crackle with the raw power of a mage. Instead, the air remains dead.The woman leans in. She presses her cheek against his. The look in her eyes goes far beyond maternal devotion. It is obsessive. Sickening. Yet Luca does not pull back. He welcomes it.I try to force my brain to remember the exact words of Kinslee’s story. She told it to me weeks ago, but the details are slipping away like sand through my fingers. These two are bound by something unbreakable. How could this woman ever kill his wife? It makes no sense. The history is wrong. The memories do not align with the flesh standing right in front of me.Then, a violent tug pulls at the centre of my chest.My

Betty POVThe air in the dining room feels like wet cement. I lift the silver spoon, but the metal clicks against my teeth because my fingers are still stiff from the coma. Two deaths. Two long sleeps in the dark. Now, everyone walks around my chair like I am made of thin glass.They do not know the darkness broke the dam. Every single memory is back, sharp and heavy as an iron bar."What shall we do to save Novalee?"The words leave my mouth loud and flat.The entire room freezes. Nina drops her fork. It clatters against her porcelain plate with a sharp ring. She stares at me, her eyes wide and blank. My mates, Adriel and Mitchell, do not move a single muscle on either side of my chair. For twenty-four hours, they have been glued to my flanks like giant, silent guard dogs."What are you talking about, Betty?" Nina asks. Her voice is too small, too high.I tilt my head. The confusion in her face makes my skin itch. Doesn't she know Novalee is gone?I open my mouth to explain, but the

Betty POV"Eat the toast, Betty."Nina pushes the ceramic plate across the oak table. The heavy wood scrapes against the stone floor. Five people at the table freeze. Nobody breathes. They look at me like I am a bomb about to detonate.I lift the metal fork. My fingers wrap tight around the handle. They think my mind is still cracked from the coma. They think I am a fragile little girl with a blank slate for a brain.They are wrong. Every memory is back. The fire, the blood, the exact weight of the crown I am supposed to wear. It sits in my skull like a hot coal."I am not hungry," I say.Adriel shifts in his chair to my right. His shoulder brushes mine. The heat radiating off his skin is suffocating. To my left, Mitchell lets out a low, rough breath through his nose. His knuckles are white against the edge of the table.For twenty-four hours, neither mate has left my side. It is a golden cage. I am the twice-dead queen, locked in a room full of guards who look at me with pity.I look