Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 61 - Chapitre 70

Damien’s POVThe morning sun cast long, amber rays across my office desk, illuminating small clouds of dust floating in the quiet air. I tapped my pen against the wooden blotter, reviewing the quarterly supply reports while trying to keep my mind off the cryptic letter that had arrived weeks ago.The pregnancy had brought a vibrant, noisy energy to the safehouse. Lucas spent half his day fussing over Amelia’s diet, while Serena spent the other half organizing extra patrols along the inner perimeter. We had settled into a comfortable, domestic routine, but the calm felt fragile, like thin ice waiting for a heavy footstep.The heavy oak door creaked open and Captain Thorne stepped into the room, his boots covered in dry grey mud from the northern trail.“Report, Thorne,” I said, setting my pen down and sitting up straight in my high-backed chair. “Did your scouts find anything along the river bend?”Thorne closed the door behind him, his face dark and weathered as he stepped toward the

Lucas's POVI unlatched the door, stepping out into the cold stone corridor with my hand resting flat on the hilt of my hunting blade.Four armed enforcers were clustered near the top of the central stairwell, their iron spears pointed downward toward a dark, shivering form pinned against the stone wall.“Hold!” I barked, my voice booming off the high arched ceiling as I pushed past the guards to reach the landing. “I said hold your weapons!”The guards hesitated, stepping back two feet while keeping their blades leveled at the figure.Torchlight flickered across the flagstones, illuminating a gaunt, skeletal frame wrapped in a filthy, threadbare wool cloak. Up close, exposed to open air for the first time instead of the damp pitch of the underground tunnels, it looked far more human than any monster. White skin clung tightly to sharp cheekbones and hollow, lucid grey eyes stared back at me through tangles of matted hair.It was the creature from the buried facility below the grove...

Damien’s POV The door of the war room clicked shut, locking out the frantic murmurs of the central corridor. I leaned my hands flat on the polished mahogany table, staring down at the detailed map of the northern ridge where red ink marks indicated Ronan’s growing camp. Around the table stood Lucas, Serena and Mabel. The room felt heavy, charged with a quiet, sharp tension that had nothing to do with standard pack politics and everything to do with the ancient threat sleeping beneath the mountain. “Julian is stable in the lower infirmary,” Mabel spoke first, setting a steaming mug of herbal tea on the wooden map edge. “He is sleeping, but his warning was crystal clear, Damien. The founders buried that facility for a reason.” “A myth doesn’t keep twenty rogue deserters warm at night, Mabel,” Lucas countered, his dark blue eyes fixed on the northern pass. “Ronan is digging near those ruins right now. If he cracks that old seal wide open, we won’t be fighting an army of wolves; we

Lucas’s POV I didn’t wait for the engineering squad to pack their gear, nor did I listen to the chief captain shouting about securing the mountain pass. I spun on my heel, leaped over a fallen log and sprinted down the rocky trail with Damien running right at my shoulder. My wolf clawed wildly at my chest, pushing my legs faster than they had ever moved across the mountain floor. Pines blurred past us in a dark green smear, branches snapping against my leather jacket while the soul bond in my heart hammered in an erratic, violent rhythm that made my lungs burn. “Keep up, Lucas!” Damien yelled, his heavy boots crushing the frosted gravel behind me. “She is in the central tower, she has twenty guards with her!” “She is five months along, Damien!” I shouted back, my voice breaking over the rush of cold wind. “Five months!” We hit the lower courtyard gates five minutes later, tearing

Damien’s POVThe evening air carried the sharp, clean scent of fresh pine as I stood on the porch of the safehouse, watching the sun dip behind the western ridge. Long golden rays swept across the manicured courtyard, illuminating the two guards on duty who were chatting comfortably by the gatehouse rather than gripping their spears in tense silence.Three weeks had passed since Clara’s birth and a remarkable, steady rhythm had settled over Silverpine. The chaotic shadow of war had finally faded from the valley floor, replaced by the everyday sounds of children laughing near the central well and horses stomping softly in the lower stables.I leaned against the wooden support pillar, looking down at my broad hands.In a rare, unguarded quiet, my mind drifted back through the dark years. I thought of the arrogant, cold Alpha who had once slapped a dying human bride across the face in a chilly stone hall, a man terrified of h