Semua Bab BLOODBOUND: The Wolf, The King and The Killer: Bab 61 - Bab 70

Declan's POVI lay there in the hospital bed, the sterile white ceiling above me blurred at the edges, but my mind sharp, restless. Rhett had just left after hovering over me like I was one breath away from slipping into the afterlife. Typical Rhett—overreacting, pacing, summoning nurses every five minutes as if I hadn’t been through worse. I wanted to laugh, but the tightness in my chest wouldn’t let me.The room was quiet now, eerily so. The hum of the machines, the faint drip of the IV bag, the occasional murmur of voices outside the ward—it was all background noise. I should have tried to sleep. My body begged for it, the ache in my bones demanding surrender. But my instincts refused. I’d learned the hard way never to let my guard down completely, not even within walls lined with healers and guards.I rolled slightly onto my side, careful not to disturb the lines taped against my skin, and let out a breath. My eyelids lowered, not fully closed, just enough to give the impression o

Third person POV The chamber was cloaked in shadows, deep and deliberate. Only a circle of torches flickered along the walls, their flames bending in the draft that crawled across the room. The floor beneath the council table was polished obsidian, reflecting the faint, wavering glow like a dark mirror.The council had gathered in silence. Old men and women, rulers of their packs, strategists who had lived too long to waste words, and younger faces who had learned ruthlessness quickly. They were the voices of the southern alliance, bound by mutual disdain for Rhett and his growing dominance.At the head of the table, seated on a chair carved from black oak, the Southern Alpha ruler, Lord Maelor, let his gaze sweep across those present. His face was carved from stone, lines etched deep around his mouth from decades of command. His silver-streaked hair gleamed in the firelight, but his eyes were what unsettled most—a pale, near-colorless shade of gray, sharp as knives and twice as merc

Rhett's POVI stood in front of the mirror, fastening the buttons of my shirt one by one, the crisp white fabric clinging neatly against my skin. My reflection stared back at me with tired, sharp eyes. The kind of eyes that had been forced into too many sleepless nights, too many decisions that cut deeper than most blades. The room was quiet except for the sound of fabric brushing and the faint ticking of the old grandfather clock in the corner. Peaceful. Too peaceful for a house that was supposed to carry the weight of an entire pack.Just as I reached for the cufflinks on my dresser, the door swung open with a violent crash. The handle slammed against the wall, rattling the frame of the mirror. My head snapped up immediately, a growl tearing out of my throat before I even saw who it was.“Don’t you fucking knock?” My voice came out sharp, furious, the kind of tone that was meant to cut the air and leave no room for excuses.Killian stood in the doorway, bent slightly at the waist, h

Zev's POVI couldn’t stop pacing. Back and forth, my boots scraped against the marble floor of my mansion study, the sound filling the silence like an accusation. My chest heaved with every breath, and sweat clung to the back of my neck despite the chilled air circulating from the vents. The news wouldn’t leave my mind—it blared in every corner of my thoughts like a siren.They said the DNA matched mine. My DNA. The murderer of Azar, tied to me.I slammed my fist against the wall, the crack echoing through the room. “Lies,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “Fucking lies. I never left this place after visiting him. I never—”But the cameras, the articles, the whispers of the council—they didn’t care about my truth. They cared about blood. They cared about having a scapegoat to pin Azar’s death on, and right now, I was their perfect choice.I stalked toward the window, yanking the curtain aside and staring out over the darkened estate. Guards moved about on the grounds below, their we

Third person POV The sirens screamed through the night, sharp and shrill, cutting against the heavy blanket of darkness. Blue and red lights painted the city streets in dizzying waves as the convoy of police cars sped toward the hospital. In the back of one of the vehicles lay Elder Council Zev, bleeding heavily, his once pristine clothes soaked and clinging to his skin. His breaths came in ragged pulls, each one weaker than the last. His head lolled against the seat, his face pale with blood loss, sweat dripping down his temples.“Keep him awake!” one of the officers barked, voice frantic. His hands pressed against the wound on Zev’s stomach, applying pressure, but the blood kept seeping through, warm and endless.Zev’s eyes flickered open just a fraction, pupils unfocused as he tried to form words. His lips moved, but no sound followed. The officer leaning over him shook his head violently. “Stay with us! You’re not dying here, damn it!”Another officer in the passenger seat grippe