All Chapters of The Butcher's Bride: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The armored transport smelled of lemon antiseptic and old blood.‎‎It was a sterile, chemical scent that burned my nostrils, so different from the woodsmoke and rain of the Bone Yard. It was the smell of the Bloodmoon Pack. The smell of civilization.‎‎I sat on a metal bench bolted to the wall of the van, my wrists cuffed in front of me with cold iron. The vibrations of the road hummed through the floor, rattling my teeth.‎‎Opposite me sat Vargo.‎‎He was cleaning his fingernails with a small, serrated knife. He had removed his tactical helmet, revealing a pale, hairless scalp and eyes that looked like wet stones. He watched me with a predatory amusement, like a cat that had finally cornered a particularly troublesome mouse.‎‎"You're quiet," Vargo observed, his voice smooth as oil. "Most prisoners scream. Or beg. Or bargain."‎‎"I'm not a prisoner," I said, my voice flat. "I'm the fiancée of your Alpha. I'm coming home."‎‎Vargo chuckled—a dry, rasping sound. "Is that the sto

The room Magnus had assigned to me was not a bedroom. It was a display case.‎‎It was located in the East Wing of the Bloodmoon estate, a sprawling suite decorated in suffocating shades of crimson and gold. The furniture was jagged, modern, and expensive. The bed was massive, draped in silk sheets that felt like ice against my skin.‎‎Everything in the room screamed power. Even the flowers in the crystal vase on the vanity—blood-red roses—were perfect, thorny, and cold.‎‎I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the grounds.‎‎I wasn't in my father's house anymore. I didn't know the layout of the gardens. I didn't know which trees were easy to climb or which gates were left unlocked by lazy guards.‎‎I was in enemy territory.‎‎Below me, two enforcers patrolled the patio with Dobermans on thick chains. Above the door to my room, I had heard the distinct beep of an electronic keypad lock.‎‎Magnus wasn't taking chances. He hadn't just locked me in; he had sealed m

The clock on the mantel ticked past 11:00 PM.‎‎I was sitting in the dark, the stolen keycard burning a hole in my pocket, mentally rehearsing the route to the elevators. Mira’s distraction was set for 3:00 AM. I had four hours to wait.‎‎Beep. Whir. Click.‎‎The electronic lock on my door disengaged.‎‎My heart slammed against my ribs. I scrambled off the chaise lounge, smoothing my silk nightgown, panic flaring. Mira wouldn't come back this soon.‎‎The door opened.‎‎It was Magnus.‎‎He was still dressed in his evening wear—a black tuxedo with the collar unbuttoned, looking effortlessly handsome and utterly weary. He didn't look like a man who had been plotting genocide; he looked like a fiancé coming to say goodnight.‎‎"You're awake," he said, stepping into the room. "Good."‎‎"I was trying to sleep," I said, clutching my arms to hide the trembling of my hands. "What do you want, Magnus?"‎‎"My father wants to see you."‎‎The air left the room.‎‎"Now?" I asked. "It's

‎I landed in a pile of dirty linen with a bone-jarring thud.‎‎The laundry room was dark, smelling of bleach and damp cotton. Above me, the chute echoed with the sounds of shouting.‎‎"Room clear! She’s gone!"‎‎Vargo’s voice. He was in my room.‎‎"Lockdown all exits! Sweep the grounds!"‎‎I scrambled out of the laundry cart, my heart hammering like a trapped bird. I was in the basement. I was free of the room. But I was now a fugitive in a locked-down fortress.‎‎If they caught me skulking in the basement, I was dead. They would know I was a spy. They would find the traitor, Titus. They would kill Kaelen at dawn.‎‎I needed a reason to be out of my room. A reason that didn't look like an escape.‎I looked at my reflection in the metal door of a washing machine. My silk robe was torn at the hem. My hair was wild. I looked frantic. Terrified.‎‎Perfect.‎‎I didn't run for the exit. I ran for the service elevator. ‎‎I swiped Beth’s stolen keycard. Green light.‎‎I hit the bu

CELESTE‎‎The green light on the console blinked steady and calm. ON AIR.‎‎My heart was beating so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. I was sitting in the lion’s den, holding the microphone that would end my life as I knew it.‎‎There was no going back.‎‎"This is Celeste Black," I repeated, my voice echoing slightly in the silent office. "I am speaking to the Bloodmoon Pack. To the Iron-Claw Pack. And to the Free Wolves of the Bone Yard."‎‎I took a deep breath.‎‎"For years, you have been told that the Rogues are enemies. That they steal your children and raid your borders. You were told they are savages."‎‎I opened the Black Ledger on the desk in front of me.‎‎"You were lied to."‎‎I began to read.‎‎"Sarah Miller, missing since June. Status: Deceased. Harvested in Sector 4 Lab." "Corporal Davin, missing since August. Status: Deceased. Failed extraction." "Maya Vane, age six. Missing since September. Status: Deceased."‎‎I let the names hang in the air. I knew tha