All Chapters of MAD END'S DECEPTION: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

GILDEONInstinct told him to shift his hand back to normal, but when Arah’s eyes flicked to it without a hint of reaction, he knew it didn’t matter. Everything was out in the open now. There was no point in trying to hide it anymore.He couldn’t tear his gaze away as she approached. She met his bewildered stare without blinking—no fear, no revulsion.She was calm. Too calm, and it bothered the fuck out of him.Her hand stroked the amulet, and he wondered if that kept her steady. Either that, or she was gauging if he was a threat. The thought that she might think he’d harm her ripped at him.“Let him go,” she said, softer this time, though her voice still had a guarded edge.Gildeon loosened his grip, claws retracting slowly from the Headwitch’s neck, the blood vanishing into the tips.As he let go, Drusden slumped forward, choking and gasping, his body folding at the waist.“Damn it, Mr. Ayadi,” Drusden rasped, followed by a broken chuckle. He staggered, clutching his bleeding neck, e

ARAHHer face felt numb under the weight of their attention. She hadn’t meant to make a scene, but the argument was about her, so it just made sense to get involved.“Sleeping Beauty finally speaks,” Zylas snarked, breaking the awkward silence.“How long have you been up, Arah darling?” Lokius asked, standing beside Vienna, one hand on his hip.“A little while.”“You alright?” Gildeon said, his tone more intimate, as if they were the only two people in the room. Tension knotted in her stomach as their gazes connected, reminding her that they still hadn’t gotten closure from their last conversation. She had likely blacked out halfway through Gildeon explaining how Roselia had helped them adjust to the human tongue. There were still questions and unspoken feelings between them, though it didn’t feel like this was the right time to address them.“I’m fine,” she replied, rubbing the side of her neck. “Just a little sore—” She frowned. “How long was I asleep?”“Two days, Lady Arah,” Vienna

GILDEONBack downstairs, he stood by the wall, arms folded, listening as Drusden revised the battle plan now that Arah was joining them at the public funeral.“I want guards for my friends too,” Arah said, leaning forward in her seat.“Sure, Mrs. Ayadi. I’m sure Stringmaster can arrange that.”“Why would I need to protect random humans?” Stringmaster protested through their mouthpiece guard. “They are irrelevant. I would be wasting valuable combatants.”“Hey, don’t call them irrelevant!” Arah slammed a hand on the table. “They’re people, you heartless witch.”If Arah wanted, Gildeon would give her the chance to kill this cloaked witch herself.“I’m sure Stringmaster didn’t mean that, Arah darling,” the shapeshifter witch chimed in with a chuckle. “Right, Stringmaster?”The cloaked witch didn’t respond.“Back to the plan,” Drusden said, drawing everyone’s attention again as he circled a spot on the plaza

ARAHStringmaster had sent the guards to clear away the mangled bodies before the next fight. She overheard something about the hooded witch stitching them back together as if they were really just dolls, never human to begin with. Her neck prickled at the image of those severed heads getting reattached… the inmates lurching around like zombies again.Her gaze flicked to Gildeon, seated in the corner by the bench, staring at his torn-out claw as it slowly grew back. She’d seen things like this happen with Aktaeon and Nalini, but witnessing it on Gildeon felt so unreal. Arah reached into her dress pocket and pulled out the handkerchief she’d grabbed before they left the base. Just as she was about to head downstairs, Drusden’s voice stopped her in her tracks.“I’m curious, Mrs. Ayadi,” he said, eyes on his cigarette. “Why didn’t you tell him you’ve already regained some of your memories?”Two days ago, when she’d confronted Gildeon about who they really were, she hadn’t felt ready to

GILDEONHe stood under the massive showerhead, cold water hammering his heated skin, washing away the grime, sweat, and blood with a sharp hiss. Foamy soap pooled at his feet, swirling in murky streaks before slipping down the drain.For a prison block, this shower room was surprisingly clean. Decent. Probably the witches’ doing. Drusden’s coven lived a mainstream lifestyle—nothing like what he’d come to expect from most witches. How someone as straight-laced as Roselia had ever belonged to them baffled him. Gildeon still had no idea what had pushed her out.The fight with the witches had drained him a bit, but nothing a solid meal and some rest couldn’t fix. His wounds had nearly closed, but the deeper damage—whatever traces of poison lingered—was taking its time to heal. He kept his dragon scales over his thigh and arm, pushing his body to mend faster.One hand braced against the tiled wall, the other slicking his wet hair back. In his