Todos los capítulos de My Rogue Mate, My Captor: Capítulo 51 - Capítulo 60

POV: Ivy The patient was in isolation on the third floor. It was little more than a private room with extra security and a sign on the door that said No Unauthorized Entry. I read his chart before I went in. Male. Thirty-four. Wolf. Admitted six hours ago with a penetrating wound to the left flank. Preliminary tests indicated silver exposure, although no trace of the metal remained in his system. Healing suppressed. Mechanism of injury unknown. No name. He’d refused to give one. I pushed open the door. He was awake. That was the first thing I noticed—most shifters with silver wounds were barely conscious, their bodies burning through energy trying to heal what couldn’t be healed. But this man was sitting up, back against the pillows, eyes fixed on the door like he’d been waiting for someone to walk through it. He was pale and sweating. His hands were shaking slightly, but his gaze was sharp. “You’re the doctor,” he said. “I’m Dr. MacKenzie.” I set down my chart and pu

POV: RonanThe transport record sat on my desk like a wound that refused to close.I had read it eleven times. Twelve, if I counted the copy I’d made for myself—the one I kept folded in my jacket, close enough to touch when the walls of my office started feeling too much like the walls of that cell. The paper was soft at the creases now. I didn’t care. I knew every line by heart anyway.Authorization: Class Alpha.Clearance: Cassian Draven.My father's name. My father's authority. Stamped on the order that had authorized my transfer three days after the Eastern Border incident. By then, I'd already been exiled from Draven territory. I had become Varek, built a life among the rogues, and nearly died at that clearing. Yet someone with access to my father's private authority had arranged what happened to me afterward.When my father was alive, I'd believed the people around him were loyal to the pack. Even after I was framed and driven out, I'd struggled to accept that someone from his i

POV: GraysonMorning light filtered through my bedroom curtains, casting pale stripes across the duvet. Ivy was still asleep beside me, her wavy brown hair fanned across my pillow, one hand curled loosely against my chest.I hadn’t slept much. I kept waking most of the night, watching her breathe.Around three in the morning, she’d shifted closer in her sleep and mumbled something I couldn’t quite catch. Something that sounded almost like my name.The clock on my nightstand read 5:37 a.m. I was supposed to report for duty at seven. For the first time in weeks, I seriously considered calling in late.I could still squeeze in a little more time with Ivy. I couldn’t bring myself to move. Not when this—whatever this was—felt so fragile.Ivy stirred, her nose wrinkling. Then her eyes opened, hazy with sleep, and she looked up at me.“You’re staring,” she said, voice rough.“Observant.”“Creepy.”“I prefer ‘attentive.’”She laughed—a sleepy, unguarded sound that hit me somewhere deep in my

POV: Ronan Tomas arrived the next morning with a stack of procedural manuals and the expression of a man who had spent the night doing exactly what I'd asked and resented every minute of it. “Accessing sealed records above your clearance requires either a council vote or a formal appeal to the Records Authority,” he said, dropping the manuals on my desk. “The council vote takes three weeks minimum. The appeal takes six.” “Six weeks is too long.” “I'm aware.” He adjusted his glasses. “There's a third option, but you won't like it.” “Try me.” “Sponsorship.” He said the word like it was a curse. “A senior officer with the appropriate clearance can petition for temporary access on your behalf. If they sign off, the Records Authority will unseal the document for a limited window.” “Who has that kind of clearance?” “Officers with succession-level authority. People who handled transition records after your father's death.” Tomas paused. “People who might have been involved in

POV: Ronan The chandelier's golden light caught my wristwatch as I checked the time for the umpteenth time.She was late.No, she wasn't. I was early. But apparently, some part of me still expected Ivy MacKenzie to arrange her life around my schedule.I spread my notes across the table—the authorization records, the fragments of information I'd pieced together from Tomas and Damon, the sealed August authorization and the custody transfer.It was exactly 3:04 p.m. when they both came in. Grayson placed his hand on her lower back and she laughed at something he said before they reached the table where I’d reserved a table.Ivy moved through the world like she expected it to get out of her way, and usually it did. Her hair was pulled back, and her sleeves were rolled up. She carried a file in one hand. ‘Ours,’ Zevran growled.I ignored him. My wolf had never been particularly interested in how things worked in the real world.They sat and we exchanged greetings, even to my ears my vo