Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Rogue Mate, My Captor: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

The command in that voice hit the clearing like a physical force. Both rogues froze, their aggression melting into instinctive fear. They backed away from me, heads bowed, shoulders hunched, taking on postures of total submission before the shadows even parted. A man stepped into the faint light filtering through the canopy. Tall, broad-shouldered, and built like a wall of solid muscle, he radiated an authority so thick it made the air heavy to breathe. Fresh blood was smeared across his chest, though I couldn't tell if it belonged to him or someone else. The rogue nearest him lowered his gaze to the dirt, trembling violently. “Varek.” My heart stopped. The Rogue Alpha. I recognized him instantly from the emergency security bulletins posted across every pack border. Wanted for raids, massacres, and terrorizing the northern territories, his face was synonymous with death. But seeing him in person was different. He looked like a predator who commanded everything around him. Varek’s

I have to be wrong about this one. I took one look at Grayson’s worried expression and placed my hand over his. “My darling, something has come up with some patients. I need to finish logging the trauma real quick so that the other doctors can have complete information to work with.” I hated how the lie came so easy. Grayson sighed. The relief was obvious on his face. “It's okay, I'll take my leave. I'll see you later tonight?” “Yes.” I smiled, hoping it didn't look as fake as it felt. He kissed me on the forehead and sauntered out of my office. My half-drunk chocolate tea was forgotten in a moment and I opened my laptop. I wasn't happy to lie to Grayson but where would I begin the explanation from? Three years together, and I had never once told him that I had killed two men. That one of them had been the most feared Rogue Alpha in the region. The first name I typed into the search bar was Ronan Draven. Pages of results appeared. I went down the rabbit hole—news arch

My fingers remained pressed against the scar, feeling the raised tissue beneath my touch. Four years. He said four years. The timeline matched everything I had been trying not to calculate since last night. I withdrew my hand slowly, reaching for professionalism like a lifeline. “Where did this happen?” I asked, keeping my voice clinical. “The stabbing.” Ronan's expression did not change and his voice was flat. “I spent several years in places where people weren't particularly fond of me.” My shoulder stiffened. The answer was smooth and deliberately vague as though he had given me something useful. “That's not what I asked.” The corner of Ronan’s mouth twitched. “Somewhere east.” I kept my expression neutral. My hands were steady this time. East. The Eastern Borderlands. Where I had driven my knife into Varek's chest. The exact place I had watched him fall. I had left him because there had been nothing left to save. Breathe, Ivy. Breathe, Elara said, restless at the edg

Still looking for the dead, Ivy? Someone knew. I couldn't scrub the words from my mind. I sat on the edge of my bed at eleven p.m., my phone clutched in both hands, reading the message for what must have been the hundredth time. Someone knew. I pressed call. The line rang once. Twice. Then nothing. No voicemail. No disconnect tone. Just a silence so complete it felt like the call had been swallowed whole. I tried again. Same result. I spent the next hour searching the number through every ordinary database I could access. Caller registries. Pack directories. Low-level tracking tools that could usually pull a name, location, or carrier. Nothing. No registered owner. No pack identification. The number existed in a void, untethered to anything or anyone. My first thought was Ronan. Who else knew I was looking into Varek? Who else had the resources to send a message like that and then vanish? But almost immediately, the theory started to bother me. If Ronan wa

Neither of us slept. Grayson claimed he would catch a few hours in the chair by the window. He said it like it was nothing, like staying awake to watch over me was just another item on a list he'd already finished. “Get some rest,” he told me, pulling the covers up to my shoulders. “I'll stay up.” So I lay still but sleep never came. I listened to the building settle around us. Listened to Grayson's pen scratch across the notepad he'd pulled from his jacket—names, I assumed, or calls to make, or a list of everyone with authorised access to the east gate. I listened to the distant sound of Thornwood security sweeping the grounds a second time, boots crunching over gravel, radios crackling low. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my own window from the outside. By the time exhaustion finally started pulling me under, the sky had gone grey at the edges. At five a.m., I finally threw the covers off and went to the bathroom. I was brushing my teeth when Grayson appeared in the