Semua Bab Fake Bond of the Lycan Lords : Bab 61 - Bab 70

Uncle Jethro POV"Where do you think you are going?"I slammed my palm against the heavy oak door before Mitchell could push past me. My brother stood right behind him, his boots clicking hard against the stone floor. Next to them stood Ian, his breathing heavy and ragged, his eyes completely bloodshot with actual lines of red leaking down his cheeks."Out of the way, Jethro," my brother growled."Not a chance," I snapped, keeping my arm locked across the frame. "The girl went to Betty's quarters. You want answers, go find her there."I did not wait for his reply. I turned on my heel and moved through the corridor, my chest tight. I found Nina near the main hall, standing close to Kinslee. Kinslee looked absolutely furious, her fingers twitching against her skirts."Take this," I said, shoving the tiny kitten into Nina's hands before she could ask a single question."Jethro, what is happening?" Nina asked."Stay here," I mutter

Mitchell POV"Get the hell out of my way," I growl, shoving past a guard in the corridor.My skin burns. The scent of sulphur and old dust still clings to the stone walls of the packhouse, a sickening reminder of the witches. Novalee’s warning rings through my head like a hammer against an anvil. I cannot help you yet, Mitchell. Stand down."Alpha Mitchell, wait," the guard mutters, his boots scraping against the floorboards as he tries to keep pace."Touch me and I will take your hand off," I snap, not even looking back.I need Betty. The mate bond screams in my chest, a physical ache that claws at my ribs. Just five minutes. Just a glimpse of her face to quiet the chaos in my skull. But the threat is real, the pack is on high alert, and I am suffocating in my own skin.I slam my bedroom door shut and bolt it. The wood rattles in the frame.The silence of the room does nothing to calm t

Mitchell POV"Get your hands off me before I snap your neck, Betty," I growled, my voice tearing through the damp silence of the cell."You do not mean that, Mitchell," Betty whispered, her purple eyes wide and shining with an irritatingly gentle light. She did not flinch. Instead, she took a slow step toward me, her small leather boots clicking against the wet stone floor. "You are hurting. I can see it.""I said stay back," I barked, backing away until my shoulder blades hit the cold, rough wall of the dungeon.The stone bit into my bare skin, but the sting was nothing compared to the toxic hum of the magic still clearing from my head. My own lycan clawed at the walls of my skull, a furious weight dragging me down into a pit of self-loathing. I was a weapon. A stupid, blind weapon that Kori had twisted like a toy."You are not weak," Betty said. She stopped exactly two feet away, her voice soft, steady, and entirely too calm for a woman standing

 Jethro POV "You are out of your bloody mind," Mitchell says, his fingers snapping against the arm of his chair. "We summon the grand meeting," I say, leaning my back against the heavy stone wall of the council room. "Every king. Every mate. Every single alpha from the werewolf packs. We lock them in one room." Adriel shifts his weight, his boots scraping against the floorboards. "Is that a good idea? What about Betty? She is still under." "Luka will not leave her bedside," I say, keeping my voice flat, cutting through his panic. I turn my eyes slowly toward the witch standing near the window. "Novalee. You and your mother can lock the room down. A barrier spell. Ensure no one gets past the threshold." Novalee taps her fingernails against the stone sill. Tap. Tap. Tap. "We can do something like that, yes. It will hold." "So a grand mee

Mitchell POVThe darkness does not just sit in my vision. It presses into my skull. Every pulse of my heart drives a fresh spike of iron straight through my temples. I squeeze my eyes shut, but the blackness behind my lids offers no relief from the pounding.I pull a breath through my nose. The air is heavy. It tastes of damp earth and old copper.My memory is a fractured pane of glass. I was talking to someone before the world cut out. The image of a face hovers just out of reach. Adriel. Or maybe my father. The details blur and run together like wet ink.I remember the corridor. I remember the weight of fresh wildflowers in my palm, the stems snapping as my grip tightened. I was heading toward Betty’s quarters. Then the shadow moved. A figure blocked the path.It was not one of our regular guards. The uniform was wrong, the posture too rigid. My inner beast had roared, claws scraping against the walls of my mind, a savage warning that came