All Chapters of Mated To Valentine : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

The weight of guilt presses down on me like a boulder, crushing my chest with every breath. I haven’t been myself since North was taken. How could I be? I failed her. I failed to protect her even after I promised her that the Ascendants or the council would never have her.That night at the club plays on a loop in my mind—the music, the laughter, the drinks. I drank too much. I wasn’t alert even up until Valentine took us home.If I had been sober at that time of the night when she left, if I had been paying attention, maybe I could have stopped her from trying to leave. Maybe she wouldn’t be suffering now.I was too caught up in the drama that I didn't realise that the effect of Mara's words still haunted her. Finn's death, still haunted her.Valentine and I have been tracking her for a week, using the blood of the hybrids to trace her location. The hybrids—creations born from her suffering. The thought makes me sick. Every time I close my eyes, I see her, broken and bleeding, he

The moonlight spills across the grand field, bathing the land in an ethereal glow. From the balcony, I can see the staff moving below, their silhouettes shifting through the dark as they work. The hum of the mowers fills the silence, steady and rhythmic, grounding me in the present when my mind keeps trying to drift elsewhere.Achilles.I won't lie, I'm very terrified for him.His condition worsened earlier. His breathing turned shallow, his skin burning hot with fever, and for a terrifying moment, I thought—I close my eyes and exhale slowly. It’s just the potions working, I remind myself. Mara said this would happen. His body is fighting, purging the last remnants of the poison. He just needs time.But time feels like a cruel thing right now.My fingers grip the iron railing, the coldness biting into my skin. My thoughts shift, moving from Achilles to something just as unsettling. The Council.They’ve requested to see Valentine and me.I don’t know what they want, but I can guess.

Achilles leans back against the headboard, arms folded, eyes alight with mischief despite the pain still evident in his face. His usual smirk is in place, the one that makes it seem like he’s perpetually amused by everything and everyone. North is sitting at the foot of the bed, cross-legged, engaged in conversation with him. And me? I’m standing by the window, watching both of them, listening, absorbing."You know," Achilles drawls, tilting his head slightly, "for an ancient council full of supposed wise men, they’re remarkably dim-witted. Took them this long to realize the Ascendants were a bigger threat than this one here." He gestures toward North with his chin.North scoffs. "Gee, thanks. What a compliment.""It’s a fair assessment," I say, smirking. "But they’re ancient, Achilles. So is their wisdom."North bursts into laughter. "Oh, that’s rich! My love, did you just call them outdated in the most poetic way possible?"Achilles snorts. "He did. And it’s true. Bunch of relics

The house is suffocating. Every room carries his ghost. The scent of his cologne still lingers on the couch, in the hallway. The soft echo of his laughter still rings in the walls, mocking me, reminding me of what’s been stolen from us.I sit by the window, staring at nothing, my fingers gripping the fabric of my black sweater. Valentine stands near the fireplace, a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand. He hasn’t fed in days. His cheekbones are sharper, his skin paler. He’s always been broody, but now, it’s like he’s a shadow of himself, barely tethered to this world.I speak first, my voice hoarse. "I keep expecting him to walk through that door."Valentine doesn’t turn. He swirls the whiskey absently, watching the amber liquid catch the light. "I hear his voice sometimes," he murmurs. "I hear him calling me daddy in that insufferable, zesty way." A mirthless chuckle escapes him. "I used to be annoyed by it. But now—now I’d do anything to hear it again."My chest tightens. "I

Paris is a graveyard. Not in the literal sense, but in the way it feels as we step off the private jet into the cold night air. The city is alive—buzzing with cars, laughter, and life that doesn’t care about our grief. But for me, and for Valentine, this place is a tomb.Achilles isn’t here. Not in the way he used to be. His voice, his laughter, the way he would crack the worst possible joke just to piss me off—it’s all gone.The car ride from the airstrip is silent.Valentine sits beside me, his fingers laced with mine, his grip tight as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away too.His thumb rubs slow circles over my skin, grounding me, reminding me that I’m not alone in this. He’s hands are cold, but somehow they hold more warmth than Paris, and it's the only thing keeping the cold from seeping into my bones.“We don’t have to be here,” he murmurs after a while, voice soft, thoughtful. “If it’s too much, I’ll take you back.”I turn to him, taking in the worry in his gold eyes. He’s barely