All Chapters of My Husband’s Brother Is My Mate?!: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Cain's body convulsed on the stones.It was horrible to watch. His back arched like a drawn bow. His heels drummed the cobbles. A thin stream of silver light seeped from his open mouth and curled upward like smoke. His eyes, those storm-gray eyes I had known for a year, were blank white, rolled back in his head."Hold him!" Varek roared.Two Redfang warriors dropped on his arms. Vivienne threw herself across his chest, sobbing, whispering his name into his neck. Rhys knelt at his head, holding it steady between both hands."Cain! Cain, look at me! Brother!""He cannot hear you," said a cracked voice.I looked up.Maeve stood over us, leaning on a Redfang spear, her long silver hair stirring in the dawn wind. Beside her stood the tall silver-haired girl with the bandaged arm and the boy of fifteen. Behind them, tiny and silent, Elowen watched with enormous eyes."What is happening?" I demanded."A leash," Maeve said."A what?""I have seen it before. Twice. Thane's people did it to our

Corvin spoke through Cain's mouth.It was the most horrible thing I had ever seen. The lips moved. The jaw worked. The throat flexed. But the voice that came out was not my friend's. It was a rich, amused tenor, easy and mocking, with a faint, weary edge."I am sorry to disturb you," Corvin said. "I know it is an awkward hour.""Get out of him," I said."I am not in him, my dear. Merely through him." His white eyes rolled toward me. "The leash runs both ways. When his wolf is far enough, I can speak through his body. A pleasing trick. I discovered it by accident.""What do you want?""The gold half.""No.""By the new moon. You will bring it to me, yourself, at Silverfall. Alone." His smile widened. "If you do, Cain's wolf returns. The leash is cut. All is forgiven.""And if I refuse?""Then the Hollow Pack marches."He lifted Cain's hand. His fingers curled in the air as if holding a cup."Look," he said.The world dissolved.I do not know how he did it. One moment I sat beside a lit

Rhys carried the wolf the whole way.He would not give it up. Not to Vivienne, not to Maeve, not to the healers. He rode with it wrapped in his cloak against his chest, a small, warm, trembling bundle, and spoke to it in a low voice every hour. Not long now. Almost there. I have you.We could not put it back.We had tried, that first dawn, in the hollow. Rhys had knelt beside the litter and laid the little silver wolf on Cain's chest. It had whimpered. It had pressed its nose against his heart. And then it had flinched, as if burned, and scrabbled away."The leash," Maeve had said, gravely. "It will not go in. Not until the cord is cut."So we carried them both. The man and the wolf. Two halves of one friend, side by side in a single caravan.We rode for two weeks.They were hard weeks. The rains came. The roads turned to mud. Varek's wolves marched in sullen silence. Maeve grew thin and gray, and the little silver-haired girl in my lap grew quieter, and the dark circles under Vivienn

We rode south at dawn.It was a bigger force than I had expected. Varek's wolves, five hundred strong, hungry for a fight and sullen from weeks of marching. The Ashford levy, nearly two hundred of them, farmers and smiths on plow horses, carrying pitchforks and hunting spears. Rhys at my right hand. Cain, pale and silent, at my left. He had come out of the library at midnight, hollow-eyed and furious, and Vivienne had kissed him, and no one had mentioned it since.Behind us, hunched on his horse, rode Tomas.He had said nothing since Rhys told him. He had gone gray, then white. He had stared at his hands for an hour. And then, without a word, he had gone to the armory and strapped on his sword."You do not have to come," I had said."I do.""We do not know that it is her.""I know my sister." His voice had been very quiet. "I know the swallow."I had not argued.We reached the first village in the late afternoon.It was called Stonebridge. A cluster of thatched cottages on the banks o

(Cain's point of view)I went down to the vault alone.It was night. The whole pack house slept, or pretended to. Selene had said, in front of twenty Alphas, that she would think on the plan until dawn. Vivienne had cried herself to sleep with her head on my shoulder, and I had slid out from under her without waking her, and tucked the blanket around her chin. She looked very young.I took a lantern from the hall. I went down the cellar stairs, past the cells, past the archive, to the oldest part of the house.The family vault lay at the end of a long, cold passage hung with cobwebs. A low iron door, carved with thorn-branches. I had a key. I had always had a key. I had never used it more than twice a year.It opened with a groan.Inside was a small stone chamber, round, domed, with niches cut into the walls. In each niche stood an urn of dark clay. Alpha after Alpha, back to the first. Seventeen of them. Each had a plain bronze plate on its base, with a name and two dates.I stopped