All Chapters of Ghost In The Pack: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Elena’s POV Gregory’s words settled over the room like a heavy blanket. “Because if you’re truly the last Ancient Royal Fae…” He rested his hand on the weathered journal before me. ”…they’ll know you’ve returned.” I stared at the worn leather cover lying between us, trying to decide which part of that sentence bothered me the most. Finally, I broke the silence. “Who’s they?” Gregory let out a slow breath. “I wish I could answer that.” I frowned. “That’s becoming your favorite sentence.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I imagine it is.” He chuckled but only for a brief second but his smile didn’t leave. I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest. “So let me see if I’ve got this straight.” I began counting on my fingers. “I’m apparently the last Ancient Royal Fae. My abilities have been sealed since I was a child. That seal is breaking because my mate recognized me.” I motioned toward Draven before continuing. “Nobody knows exactly what powers I

Draven’s POV Friday nights always carried a different kind of energy. Even from my office overlooking the main ring, I could feel it. Music pulsed through the walls with a steady rhythm while the crowd below erupted every few seconds. The sound wasn’t constant. It rose and fell like waves crashing against a shoreline. Someone landed a clean hit. The audience roared. The referee separated the fighters. The room settled. Then another exchange started all over again. It was familiar. Comfortable. After everything that had happened yesterday, familiar was exactly what Elena needed. She’d spent nearly the entire day buried inside Gregory’s journals. Every time I’d walked past the bedroom, she’d been sitting exactly where I’d left her, another ancient book spread across her lap while three more waited beside her. By lunchtime she’d forgotten to eat. By dinner she’d forgotten what time it was. Getting her out of the palace hadn’t really been a suggestion. I’d simply told her she was com

Bernard’s POV I studied the photograph for what had to be the tenth time. The face stared back at me from my computer screen. Strong jaw. Broad shoulders. Blond hair. Blue eyes. There was nothing extraordinary about the picture itself. It looked like an ordinary photograph someone might’ve snapped walking down a crowded sidewalk. Yet something about the man’s face refused to let go of my attention. It nagged at me. Like I’d seen him before. Barney stood near the corner of my desk, flipping through a folder while giving me enough room to think. We’d been chasing Ghost for days now. Every lead had either dried up or circled right back to the same place. Draven. Everything kept leading back to Draven. The tracker I’d hired had done exactly what I’d paid him to do. Ghost’s signal had led straight to Draven’s penthouse before disappearing completely. That alone had been enough to raise questions. Now I finally had a face. I leaned back in my chair, studying the picture again. “Somethi

Viktor’s POV Silence carried far more weight than shouting ever could. The man chained to the chair learned that lesson the hard way. I paced slowly across the hardwood floor of my office, my hands clasped behind my back as I studied him. Blood dripped steadily from the split lip he’d earned before being brought to me. His expensive suit was stained, one shoe missing, his breathing uneven from the beating Nikolai’s men had already administered. He’d been given every opportunity to tell the truth. Instead, he’d wasted my time. The office itself reflected order. Dark mahogany bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling. A crystal decanter rested untouched beside several expensive glasses. Every folder on my desk sat perfectly aligned. The city skyline filled the windows behind me, casting the room in the fading light of evening. Nothing in my office was out of place. Except the man chained to the chair. I stopped directly in front of him. He refused to meet my eyes. “You thought y

Draven’s POV The call ended. I lowered the phone onto my desk without making a sound and leaned back in my chair. My gaze settled on the city lights glowing beyond the office windows, but my thoughts remained on the conversation I’d just had. Viktor Sokolov. The head of the Russian Bratva. The man had exactly the reputation I’d expected him to have. Professional. Calculated. Direct. He hadn’t wasted my time with threats. He hadn’t tried to impress me. He hadn’t puffed out his chest. He simply laid out the facts, told me he was coming to Limelight tomorrow evening, informed me he’d be bringing armed security, and made one thing perfectly clear. They weren’t coming for us. That wasn’t weakness. It was respect. Respect was worth far more than empty promises. A warm hand rested against my chest. I looked down. Elena had settled comfortably against me sometime during the phone call, her head resting beneath my chin while absentmindedly tracing circles across my shirt. She tipped her fa