All Chapters of Married To My Enemy's Pack : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The lower level of the estate felt colder than the rest of the house, a narrow hallway leading to a single reinforced door where two guards stood watch. Damian pushed it open without a word, and I followed him inside.The room beyond was small and plain, with a cot against one wall, and a single lamp casting weak light over the man lying on it. He looked nothing like I had imagined, younger than I expected, his face gray and sweating, his breathing shallow and uneven.Ryder stood near the wall, with his arms crossed, and Xavier sat on a stool beside the cot, with a notebook balanced on his knee.The dying man's eyes found me, and something in them sharpened into recognition flickering through the pain."You," he rasped. "You're the one who bit my hand.""Yes, I am," I replied calmly.Then a sound scraped out of his chest, somewhere between a laugh and a cough, and it left him worse than before. Xavier leaned forward, steadying him gently."You don't have much time," Xavier said. "So w

That afternoon, Kade found me in the garden, dropping onto the bench beside me without his usual energy, his jacket pulled tight against the autumn chill."You do not look good at all," he said. "It seems like you're planning something.""I'm just thinking about a lot of things," I replied. "That's not an answer," He said, studying my profile, waiting."I'm thinking about leaving," I admitted finally. "Not forever, just long enough to breathe somewhere that isn't full of secrets I can't look at without wanting to scream."Kade was quiet for a moment. "Leaving for where?" He asked."I don't know yet.""But that's a terrible plan," he said."I know."Then he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, though. If I found out that my own family did something like this, I would want to put a continent between us, too." He glanced at me sideways. "Does Damian know you're thinking about it?""Damian hasn't spoken to me since the cell," I responded."That sounds like him," Kade said

I stayed on that bench until the cold forced me to move, and even then, I did not go far, just kept on circling the block twice before I finally let myself sit down again, this time on the brownstone's own cracked front steps, close enough to touch the rusted railing if I reached for it.Later, I noticed slowly that nobody else walked this street, the way you notice silence only once it has stretched long enough to feel deliberate rather than accidental. There were no lights in any of the surrounding windows, neither are there cars parked along the curb, and there were no sound of a city that otherwise never fully slept."This place is forgotten," I said aloud, mostly to hear my own voice. "On purpose."After that, I spent the better part of that day walking the length of the block, studying what remained of the old brownstones, most of them boarded in the same careful, deliberate way, a few collapsed entirely, some were swallowed by weeds and time. I found, near the far corner, a str

The old woman's hand clamped hard around mine, cutting off whatever she had been about to say, her whole body went rigid in the candlelight."Do not move," she whispered. "And do not make a sound.""What is it?" I breathed."Someone who should not know this street exists." She rose slowly, pulling me up with her, in a way that seems surprisingly strong for someone so frail, and guided me away from the candle toward the back of the room, deeper into the shadows. "This house has not had a visitor in eighteen years besides you. And whoever is outside did not simply wander here by accident."The knock came again, in three hard raps, followed by a voice that sounds low and businesslike, coming easily through the thin boards."We know someone's in there. Open up, and this stays simple."My stomach dropped. The voice was unfamiliar, but sounds flat and professional in a way that made my skin crawl."They're looking for me," I whispered."Or for anyone foolish enough to still be hiding in a d

I lay rigid on the cot, listening. The voice below was the old woman's, low and urgent, followed by a pause long enough for someone to answer, but nobody did. Then she spoke again, softer, as if the silence had said something.I immediately crept down the stairs, keeping to the wall where the boards were less likely to creak. The candle had burned almost to nothing, and in its thin light I saw the old woman standing at the center of the front room, with her back to me, and her hands cupped in front of her as if holding something small."She is here," she was saying to the empty air. "She came, I told you she would, Maren. I told all of you."I stood there, my heart still pounding from the fear I had built for myself on the cot. "Who are you talking to?" I asked.She did not startle. "You should be asleep," she said."I heard voices, and I thought someone was here.""There are always people here," she said, turning slowly. Her clouded eyes were wet. "But not the kind you would call vis