Todos os capítulos de Fated To The Wrong Woman: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

Damian didn't scream when they grabbed him.That was the worst part. He just went quiet. Like he knew the performance was over. One enforcer on each arm, lifting him off his polished shoes, his perfect suit wrinkling. His eyes found mine across the Council circle as they dragged him toward the side door where Old Joe had already been taken.He didn't look sorry. He looked angry that he got caught."Everly," he said, not crying now, voice flat. "You will regret this. You think he is better? He watched you since you were 18 too. Ask him what he has in his office drawer. Ask him about the photos."Grayson's arms tightened around me so hard I felt his heart hammering against my back. Too fast. He was still fighting his wolf."Remove him," Elder Rhea snapped, banging her gavel so loud the windows rattled. "Mr. Black will be held in Council cells pending trial for voyeurism, trespass, and attempted murder. His Alpha title is suspended. His family's territory is under review."The door slamme

I woke up to no beeping this time.No hospital. No IV. No silver cuffs burning his wrists. Just black sheets, city light coming through windows we forgot to close last night, and Grayson's arm heavy over my waist, his new claiming bite throbbing dull and warm on my neck.It didn't hurt. It hummed. Like his blood transfusion from two nights ago finally found its home.Grayson was awake already. Of course. He never sleeps after claiming night, Collins told me once. Wolves stay awake to watch bond settle.He was propped on elbow, looking at me, hair messy, bandages off his knuckles now, just pink new skin. His eyes were brown. No silver. For first time since wolfsbane night, no silver."You slept," he whispered, thumb tracing edge of bite, careful. "Eight hours straight. No nightmare."I did. I didn't dream of tiny black dot on ceiling. Didn't dream of Damian's Bentley at midnight. Didn't dream of Mom."How long you been watching?" I asked, voice hoarse from last night - not from screami

Grayson's mother did not live in tower.She lived in old Pack House on edge of town where Pack started, where walls are wood not glass, where kitchen smells like bread always, where there are photos taped not framed because she changes them when she gets new favorite.Her name is Helen Wolfe. Not Luna anymore since Grayson's father died 5 years ago, but everyone still calls her Mama Wolfe when Grayson is not listening.She opened door before we knocked. Like she knew car sound."Everly," she said, and hugged me first, not Grayson. She is small, like me, but strong. Hands rough. She smelled like rosemary and laundry. "Come in. You are cold. Court stone makes everyone cold."House was warm. Fire on even though October is not that cold. Table set for 3, but with 5 plates because she always sets extra "in case someone brings friend."Grayson kissed her cheek, awkward. He is 6'3 and she has to pull him down."Mom," he said, voice soft in this house, not Alpha voice. "You didn't have to coo

Day 2 Heat - where you stopped!CHAPTER 17 - HEAT DAY TWO: PACK BRINGS SOUPI woke up at 9 AM on Day 2 because house smelled like chicken soup, not rosemary.Not Mama Wolfe soup. Different. Pack soup. The kind they make when Luna is in heat and whole Pack cooks one thing each and brings to door but never enters.Grayson was already awake, in kitchen doorway, talking in low voice to someone I couldn't see. Shirt on now. Alpha voice back, but quieter."No, leave it at door. Luna is sleeping. Yes, I know Section 4. No, you can't see her. Yes, I will tell her Elena made soup."He closed door, came back with big pot. Saw me awake."Pack," he said simply, setting pot on stove he never uses. "Day 2, they bring food. It's tradition. When my father was in heat with Mom, Pack brought 42 pots. Mom said we ate soup for month.""42?" I sat up, sheets stuck to me still, but less burning than yesterday. Day 2 was different, Helen said. Less fever, more clingy. Wanting to be held constantly."Marcus

Day 4, I woke up at 9:02 AM like list said. Not 4 AM. No burning. No shivering. Just... hungry.Really hungry.Grayson was in kitchen already, in full Alpha suit, tie, shoes, looking like he is going to board meeting, but he was stirring stew that we made yesterday."List says 9 AM wake," he said, not looking up, but smiling. "You woke at 9:02. Two minutes late. Pack will talk.""Pack always talks," I said, voice hoarse but normal, not heat voice.He turned. Eyes brown again, not gold. Normal brown. But soft."How do you feel?" he asked, same question for 4 days.I checked. Body warm, not hot. Hands not shaking. Heart 78, not 112."Normal," I whispered. "Is heat... done?""Done," he said, coming to me, hand on forehead like ritual now. Cool hand, normal forehead. "Last night at 2 AM was last wave. You slept through. I stayed awake to count. You didn't burn."He said it like he passed exam."So today I cook?" I asked."Today you cook. And Pack comes. And after, we are done with 4 days