All Chapters of Darkbound Mate: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Kassian’s POVLynette’s gaze locks onto mine, her eyes gleaming with mischief, and an innocent smile stretches across her face. She knows. She knows damn well she’s not supposed to be here, yet she plays it off, fluttering her fingers as if suddenly remembering they have a purpose. Then, with a nonchalant shrug, she shoves them back into the bucket of popcorn, grabbing a handful as if she has all the time in the world.The sharp scent of butter and salt mixes with the other scents lingering in the air. The tension in the room is thick, buzzing like static before a storm, yet she stands there—relaxed, oblivious. My pulse pounds against my skull, anger flaring hot in my chest as I stomp toward her, my muscles coiled tight.“Young woman, what the hell are you doing here?” My voice is low, sharp, barely more than a growl.Lynette tilts her head, expression infuriatingly clueless. “Getting entertained,” she says breezily, as if she’s commenting on the weather. “Why?” she asks, blinking up

My mother stared back with wide, horrified eyes. Her lips parted, trembling, unable to form words. Then the scream that tore through her throat, so raw it sent a shiver down my spine even now, years later.She lost her mind in that moment. And in that moment, she lost everything.The gleam of the blade was the last thing I saw before she pressed it to her throat and dragged it across her skin.I remember the gurgling sound, the way the air filled with the thick, metallic scent of blood. I remember her collapsing, her body convulsing. The life draining from her eyes.And I remember him. Ryker, my so-called father, standing there. Watching.He rolled his eyes.And then he turned his back and walked away.He never turned back when I ran after him, my screams tearing from my throat as I begged him to save her. He never cared.And neither did anyone else.The pack didn’t mourn the loss of their unkind and selfish Luna. No one spoke of the pain she endured. No one cared about the woman she

The arena is silent, save for the rhythmic pounding of hearts, the quiet inhales and exhales of tense bodies, and the occasional nervous shuffling of feet against the stone seating. A warm breeze drifts through the vast space, whispering through the ears of the gathered pack members, carrying the distant cries of birds and rustling leaves from beyond the towering arena walls. The scent of smoky vanilla and cream—the distinct fragrance that unites them as one—lingers in the air, blending with the individual scents of sweat, fear, and anticipation. The heavy mix of emotions clogs the atmosphere, suffocating to anyone with heightened senses.Yet, among the hundreds of anxious onlookers, one figure remains entirely unaffected.At the highest point of the arena, where the view is unobstructed, Lynette lounges with effortless ease, legs crossed as she leisurely munches on the cookies in the large bowl at her feet. Sunlight spills through the glass roof above, catching the frosty strands of

The quiet hum of the AC fills the office, cold air whispering through the space, blending with the faint rush of wind from the open window. Somewhere in the background, the coffee machine lets out a low gurgle. The silence is heavy. Oppressive. It settles around us like a second skin, thick enough to suffocate.I want to say something. I want to fix this. But the words lodge themselves in my throat, tangled between the fear of hurting him and the desperation to pull him back before it’s too late.Then, warmth.A gentle pressure over my fidgeting hands, stopping their restless movements.I jolt slightly at the unexpected contact, my heart skipping a beat. Kassian’s hands are warm—so warm—completely engulfing mine as if he’s trying to ground himself through me.I look up at him, breath catching at the raw emotion on his face. The sadness, the exhaustion, the fear—it’s all there, painted across his features in shades of grief and torment. His amethyst eyes, dulled with sorrow, meet mine,

A quiet hum drifts through the dimly lit office as Oliver methodically sorts through scattered documents, the faint scent of paper mixing with the lingering traces of Kassian’s scent. Outside, the day is still, save for the distant chirping of birds, a stark contrast to the turmoil that has haunted this place for days.He steals a glance at Kassian, sprawled across the worn leather couch, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. There’s something almost childlike about the way he sleeps—completely at ease, his face unburdened by the grief and rage that have shadowed him since Ryker’s death. Oliver can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen his cousin sleep, and never once has it been so peaceful. Before, it was always fitful, his brows drawn tight, his body tense, as if even in slumber, he fought unseen battles. But now… now he’s at rest.A warmth spreads through Oliver’s chest, satisfaction curling around his heart like a protective shield. Justice has been ser