Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 21 - Chapitre 30

The plane touches down just as the sun begins to rise, casting a golden glow over the tarmac. My body feels heavy, like I’ve been carrying the weight of the world since we left Paris. The events of the council meeting replay in my mind on a loop, each moment more vivid than the last. The way the king dismissed us. The way Valentine’s father looked at him—like he was nothing. And it’s all because of me.I get that I never asked for any of this, but I'm now beginning to process the fact that he must have also not asked for any of this as well.Now I just feel selfish.As I step off the plane, I see Achilles waiting for us. He’s leaning against a sleek black car, his arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips. But there’s something in his eyes, a flicker of concern that he quickly masks with his usual light-hearted demeanor.“Took you long enough,” he says, pushing off the car and walking toward us. He tosses a bundle of fabric to Valentine, who catches it without a word. It’s prot

Achilles is surprisingly good at this. I didn’t expect him to be such a patient trainer, but here we are, hours into our first session, and he hasn’t once lost his temper or made me feel incompetent. His instructions are clear, his movements precise, and his humor—though relentless—keeps me from drowning in my own frustration. By the time we finish the last lap of our training for the day, I’m exhausted but oddly satisfied. My muscles ache, but it’s a good ache, the kind that reminds me I’m getting stronger.As we cool down, I can’t help but ask the question that’s been nagging at me all morning. “How do you know so much about vampire fighting styles? You’re a shapeshifter, not a vampire.”He grins, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “I’ve been around Valentine long enough to pick up a thing or two. Plus, when you’ve fought as many battles as I have, you learn to adapt. Doesn’t matter if you’re a vampire, a shapeshifter, or a human—fighting is fighting. The basic

The garage is brightly lit, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights casting a blinding glow over the sleek lines of the motorcycle. I slide off the bike, my legs a little shaky from the ride, and I stretch my body as soon as I'm free from the curled position I had to assume all through the ride.His scent is all over me as I was completely pressed into him, and it feels kind of shaky as I try to get used to the ground again.I can still feel the smooth vibrations from the bike. It's a sweet feeling, but I don't want to dwell in it.The rubber band he used to tie my hair into a bun is stuck to the helmet, and when I pull it free, my hair tumbles down in a tangled mess. I hand him the helmet and as he takes it, his fingers brushing against mine for the briefest moment, and I feel a jolt of electricity shoot through me. I try to ignore it, focusing instead on the mess of my hair.I groan, running my fingers through it in a futile attempt to smooth it out. He watches me, his golden eye

The staircase winds upward, steep and endless, each step echoing softly beneath my boots. Shadows curl around me, thick and unmoving, swallowing the faint light seeping from the sconces along the stone walls. The air shifts the higher I climb—colder, heavier. As if the very walls of this place are alive, breathing, watching.At the top, his doors loom ahead—tall, carved from ancient blackwood, etched with intricate symbols that seem to shift when I look too long. The sheer size of them makes me feel small, insignificant, like standing before the gates of something forbidden.I hesitate.The last time I walked through these doors, I left with the scent of him burned into my skin and the ghost of his eyes lingering behind my mind.And now… I’m about to do it again.I knock, the sound swallowed almost instantly by the thick wood.No response.Instead, a soft sound hums from beyond the doors—a violin.The melody is haunting, delicate yet deliberate, each note pulling at something deep

The mirror doesn’t recognize me.I tilt my head, studying the reflection staring back. The sleek bun makes my face look sharper, more refined. My cheekbones are more prominent, my eyes—once hidden behind thick glasses—are piercing. I've also noticed that they've taken an icy look. It was subtle at first during the early stages of my transformation, but now, they're completely icy. Blue...almost like glass and lined with dark kohl and mascara, they hold an intensity that wasn’t there before. The black dress hugs my body perfectly, flowing down to my calves in an elegant, almost regal way. Paired with knee-high leather boots and the jacket Achilles forced onto me, the entire ensemble screams old money and quiet dominance.I run a hand down my sleeve, feeling the buttery smoothness of the leather. My fingers tremble slightly, but not with nerves. With something else. Something… powerful.For the first time, I don’t feel like the turtle girl who hid in my mother's oversized sweaters