บททั้งหมดของ The Mate He Rejected: บทที่ 121 - บทที่ 130

MEGHANN'S POV I stood bare in the snow, my heart hammering violently against my ribs. Beside me, Cullen was already moving. He didn't waste a single second trying to investigate the sound in the dark. His massive hands grabbed my discarded winter jacket from the snowbank, wrapping the thick, dark fabric tightly around my shivering shoulders. "We are going back inside," Cullen ordered, his voice a low, rough rumble. His silver eyes scanned the pitch-black tree line, his broad chest shielding me entirely from the wind. "Now." We didn't shift back into our wolves. We pulled on our freezing clothes with frantic, urgent motions and ran. The wild, feral hunt was over, replaced by the sharp, protective instincts of an Alpha securing his territory. We pushed through the dense pine branches, our boots crunching loudly over the icy crust of the snow. The sheer adrenaline of the run kept the bitter cold from se

CAOMH'S POV  I did not move. I remained on my knees, the sharp shards of broken glass from the shattered medicine bottles biting deeply into the bare skin of my shins. A pool of clear rubbing alcohol mixed with dark amber iodine slowly spread across the white tiles, soaking into the knees of my thin cotton trousers. The harsh, sterile smell of the chemicals burned the inside of my nose, completely masking the faint, lingering scent of the Northern Alpha who had just walked away. My right hand trembled violently as I stared at the yellowed parchment resting in my lap. The ink was faded, but Caryn Green’s frantic, terrified handwriting was perfectly legible. "She wasn't even pregnant," I whispered. My voice sounded completely foreign. It was a hollow, dry rasp that seemed to belong to a dead man. The sound bounced off the sterile white walls of the cell, mocking me in th

CULLEN'S POV  I kept my hand firmly on the small of Meghann’s back, guiding her up the concrete stairwell toward the surface. My blood was rushing through my veins, thick and hot with the intoxicating high of our offensive victory. We had not fired a single bullet in the last hour, yet we had just delivered a fatal strike to the usurper sitting in the south. We stepped out into the freezing night air of the upper courtyard. "My truck," I growled, pointing toward the heavy black SUV parked near the armory. Meghann didn't ask questions. She walked quickly to the passenger side, her boots crunching over the packed snow. Her cheeks were flushed a deep, vibrant pink, her bright green eyes shining with a fierce, untamed energy. I unlocked the doors, sliding behind the wheel and slamming my door shut against the howling winter wind. I twisted the key in the ignition. The mass

CAOMH'S POV  I stood in front of the small stainless-steel mirror bolted above the sink, staring at the stranger looking back at me. The rapid, supernatural healing of my wolf had worked overnight, knitting my broken ribs together and sealing the deep lacerations across my chest and arms. But the damage had been too severe for a flawless recovery. Thick, jagged pink scars crawled up the left side of my torso, climbing over my collarbone and trailing up the side of my neck. They were ugly, raised ridges of ruined tissue. My left arm, freed from the tight sling, ached with a dull, persistent throb, but the bone was whole. I was physically repaired. I could run. I could hold a blade. I could kill. But internally, I was a hollow, empty cavern. The false, synthetic tether that had chained my soul to Meghann Clemmie Nelson was completely gone, leaving nothing but cold ash in my chest. The crushing rea

CAOMH'S POV  The heavy brass latch clicked shut, sealing the grand double doors of the Luna suite. The quiet sound echoed in the massive, high-ceilinged room. Outside the thick glass windows, the southern courtyard burned. The bright orange flames of the riots cast long, dancing shadows across the pristine white carpet. The air inside the suite was thick with the sickeningly sweet scent of vanilla and crushed roses, completely at odds with the bitter smell of smoke and drying blood clinging to my clothes. Dreda stood frozen near the window, her back pressed tightly against the glass. Her pale blue eyes darted rapidly across my face, taking in the jagged pink scars crawling up my neck, the dark hollows beneath my cheekbones, and the feral, glowing gold of my irises. She was trembling. Her chest heaved beneath the dark silk of her expensive dress. Then, her survival instincts