Todos los capítulos de The Mate Hunt: Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

MaeveSomething moved through Ronan... not triumph. He had wanted Mara's death for three years. He had imagined it, dreamed of it, perhaps even lived for it. But looking at me now, he didn't look victorious. He looked like he understood exactly what this had cost.Ronan stepped forward, then stopped in front of me. The entire courtyard waited. His gaze moved over my face, then toward the wolves gathered around us.When he spoke, his Alpha voice carried across the territory."Maeve Cross is gone."My heart slammed against my ribs. Mara closed her eyes.Ronan turned toward me. Gold burned through his irises, not Hunger. Alpha. Mate. Certainty."The name she carried belonged to wolves who lied to her, used her, and attempted to turn her against this territory." His voice deepened. "They relinquished every right to her the moment they used her blood as a weapon."Silver stirred beneath my skin. Ronan stepped closer."She entered my territory as Maeve Cross." The Hunger pressed toward me,

RonanBy the time we returned to the pack house, most of the wolves had disappeared from the courtyard. Guards remained stationed around the dungeon.Cassian met us inside."Mara is secured."Maeve's expression shifted. "She said anything?""Several things.""Anything useful?""No.""Sounds like her."Cassian looked at me. "Six more messengers left. Blackthorne should receive word before dawn.""Good.""And Torin has been moved to the southern holding rooms."Maeve glanced at him. "Not near Mara?""No.""Good."Cassian looked between us. "You're both exhausted.""Elowen has been saying that for hours," Maeve muttered."Because neither of you listens," Elowen said."I listen."Three people looked at me. I reconsidered. "Occasionally."Cassian smiled. "I'll handle the night reports."I nodded, then led Maeve upstairs. The second floor housed guest chambers, offices, several smaller council rooms, and rooms historically reserved for visiting pack leaders. The third belonged to the Alpha.

RonanShe glanced toward the robes again. "If I never take it?"The Hunger immediately disliked the question. I pushed him down before Maeve felt too much of it. She noticed anyway. "Your wolf hates that.""He can hate many things.""He's very talented at it.""He is."Her gaze returned to me. "You didn't answer.""You remain my mate whether you mark yourself or not.""And the pack?""Will adjust.""Will they?""They will if I tell them to." She stared. I amended. "And because they will eventually learn that forcing you into a role you did not choose would be catastrophically stupid.""Much better."Elowen nodded approvingly. "Progress."I ignored her. Maeve turned toward the hallway leading deeper into the third floor. "What else is up here?"I knew exactly what she was about to find. "Come."I led her through the western side. She passed the private study. A smaller sitting room. Two guest rooms that had once been used by visiting members of my family. Then we reached the double do

RonanShe disappeared back into the Luna chambers. I followed her to the wardrobe.Maeve opened it. Several simple dresses, trousers, shirts, coats, and ceremonial garments hung inside in varying sizes, most designed to be altered quickly. Her expression became increasingly horrified."This is creepy.""It is practical.""It's creepy practical."She pulled out a dark dress, a deep wine-red thing with a boned bodice and a full skirt that looked like it belonged at a formal Council function, not dinner. She held it against herself. "No."Another, pale gray, floor-length, with long draping sleeves that would have trailed through soup. "No."A third caught her hand and held it there longer than the others. Black. Simple. A fitted bodice that tapered to a narrow waist, long sleeves that ended in soft points over the backs of the hands, and a skirt that fell straight rather than full, meant for moving through a room rather than posing in one. Around the cuffs, thin silver embroidery caught

MaeveA measured silence settled over the table, dense as fog in the valley below. It wasn’t uncomfortable... not quite. It was the kind of quiet that sinks into the wood grain, thoughtful and heavy, the aftertaste of too many truths spoken aloud.Ronan was the first to break the spell. He leaned back, the chair sighing beneath him, blue eyes flickering over the gathered faces. “Continue.”And just like that, the room exhaled. The reports resumed their slow orbit.Falon discussed the tangled routes of our messengers, the lifeblood of communication stretched thin by winter’s approach.Gemma, voice sharp as frost, complained about dwindling stores and the stubbornness of the rootcellars.Axel grumbled about three newly-shifted wolves, a trio of teenagers, who seemed to believe that following orders was more a suggestion than a rule.The conversation gradually stitched itself back together, growing louder, more familiar. I tried to track the rhythm of it: names and faces, territories and