SINFUL SALVATION 의 모든 챕터: 챕터 121 - 챕터 130

The first foster home was a house on Almond Street.It was a small house—two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen with a linoleum floor that peeled up at the corners. The paint was yellow, but it had faded to the color of old teeth. The front porch sagged. The screen door had a hole in it, patched with duct tape.Mason stood on the sidewalk, clutching a plastic bag that held everything he owned. Three shirts. Two pairs of pants. A toothbrush. A photograph of his mother.Ms. Reynolds knelt beside him."This is Mrs. Patterson's house," she said. "She's a good woman. She's going to take care of you."Mason didn't answer.He had stopped answering.---Mrs. Patterson was not mean.She was a large woman with grey hair and tired eyes and hands that had washed too many dishes. She had four other children in her care—three boys and a girl, all older than Mason. She fed them. She clothed them. She made sure they went to school.But she did not love them.She couldn't. There were too many of them,

The apartment was on Verity Street.It was a small place—one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen with a stove that didn't work and a refrigerator that hummed too loud. The walls were stained yellow from years of cigarette smoke. The carpet was thin and grey and smelled like mildew. The windows were covered with cardboard, blocking out the light.Mason spent the first three days in the room with the mattress.The door was locked from the outside. There was no window. There was a bucket in the corner—for when he needed to use the bathroom, because Simon didn't want him walking around the apartment. There was a bottle of water and a loaf of bread on the floor beside the mattress.That was all.Mason sat on the mattress and stared at the wall.He didn't cry. He had learned, long ago, not to cry. He just sat there, his knees pulled to his chest, and he waited.He didn't know what he was waiting for.But he knew, somewhere deep in his gut, that something terrible was coming.---On the fourth

My name is Lily, and I haven’t spoken a word in three years.Not because I can’t. My vocal cords are fine. But because every time I opened my mouth in that house, it was met with a sneer, a slap, or a lecture about how I was a "burden" and a "freak" for being born without a wolf.My stepmother, Claudia, loved to remind me of that. "Look at you," she'd hiss, her red nails digging into my arm. "No scent. No wolf. Just a weak little human sponge, soaking up all the good food and space."My stepsister, Vivian, would just laugh and shove me into the laundry pile.But today was different. Today, my brother was coming home.Damon. My full-blood brother. The Alpha-in-waiting of our pack. He was massive, with dark hair and eyes so blue they looked like cracked ice. He was the only person in the world who didn't look at me like I was a mistake.When he walked through the door, the house fell silent. He didn't even look at Claudia. He just stalked over to me, scooped me up in a bone-crushing hug

Damien didn't answer.He just stared at Leo—those cold grey eyes wide, that sharp mouth parted, that carefully constructed mask cracking at the edges. He looked like a man who had walked into a room expecting a lamb and found a wolf.Leo let him stare.He was patient. He had always been patient. His father had taught him that—not with words, but with the way Drake had built an empire and then walked away from it, one deliberate step at a time.Control is not about force, Drake had told him once. It's about patience. It's about letting the other person realize they've already lost.Leo had never understood that lesson until now.Now he understood it perfectly."You're not going to say anything?" Leo asked.Damien's jaw tightened."There's nothing to say.""There's plenty to say." Leo leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "You've been planning this for months. Maybe years. You transferred here. You found my schedule. You waited outside the student center until you knew I'd be alon

Damien woke slowly.He was warm. He was held. There was an arm wrapped around his waist, a chest pressed against his back, breath stirring the hair at the nape of his neck.For a long, blissful moment, he didn't remember where he was.He didn't remember the mission. He didn't remember his grandfather. He didn't remember the years of training, the beatings, the lies.He just felt safe.And then, he remembered.He remembered the coffee shop. He remembered the table in the corner. He remembered Leo's voice—low and calm and certain—saying, You're mine now.He remembered the walk across campus. The dorm room. The way Leo had undressed him—slowly, carefully, reverently.He remembered the scars.He remembered the kiss.He remembered the sleep—the first real sleep he had had in years.Damien's eyes flew open.---He was lying on Leo's bed.The sheets were soft. The pillow smelled like cedar and rain. The window was grey with early morning light.And Leo was behind him—his arm draped over Dami