Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 11 - Chapitre 20

First Person's PerspectiveElenaI sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my hands. They felt cold, even though the room was warm. I rubbed them together, trying to bring some warmth back, but it didn’t help. My mind was stuck on Salvatore’s words, playing them over and over like a broken record."Give me your heart. Submit to me. And in return, I will give you power. Power to make everyone who has wronged you pay."I swallowed hard. Was it worth it? If I gave in, would I regret it? Would I lose whatever little freedom I still had? And if I did, would I ever be able to escape? Or would I become something worse than a prisoner?I took a slow breath and looked around the room. It was big. Too big. Everything in it looked expensive. The bed was huge, covered in soft blankets and pillows that smelled like fresh laundry. The wardrobe was filled with clothes I never asked for. A dressing table stood in the corner, with a mirror reflecting my tired face. The rug beneath my bare feet was thic

First Person PerspectiveElenaThe first day I was allowed to walk around felt strange. After being locked up for so long, I didn’t know what to do. When the guards stepped aside and told me I could move freely, I thought it was a trick. I stared at them, waiting for the catch, but they said nothing. Just stood there, watching. Testing me.I took a hesitant step forward. No one stopped me. Another step. Still nothing. My breath felt uneven, my pulse erratic. My feet moved slowly, cautiously, like I was walking on thin ice. No chains. No locked doors. No one forcing me back inside.I ran my fingers along the cold stone walls as I moved, needing something solid to ground me. The air in the hallway smelled of polished wood and faint traces of the food lingering from the kitchens. My senses felt overwhelmed, but I forced myself to focus. This wasn’t a dream. This was real.Eyes followed me everywhere. The maids stopped mid-step, their whispers hushed yet sharp. Some stared openly, their g

First Person's PerspectiveSalvatore's POVMy knuckles throbbed as I yanked my fist back from the shattered mirror. Pieces of glass rained onto the floor, some bouncing off my shoes, others embedding themselves into the rug, some even piercing my knuckles, but that was the least of my concern. My chest rose and fell with each angry breath, but it still wasn’t enough. The rage inside me boiled hotter, consuming every rational thought I had left. Not even words can describe how..how... betrayed....angry... disrespected, I feltI turned, my eyes scanning the room for something else to destroy, I just needed to vent my anger on something, or even someone. My hands landed on a wooden chair, and before I could think, I grabbed it and hurled it against the wall. The sharp crack of splintering wood echoed through the room, but even that didn’t calm the storm in my head.Through it all, Ares sat by the fireplace, his face unreadable as he watched me vent my frustration. He didn’t flinch. Stupi

First Person's PerspectiveElenaThe door creaked as it opened, the heavy wood scraping against the stone floor. I didn’t need to look to know who had entered. The air changed, growing heavier, thicker. That familiar scent—leather and crisp winter pine—wrapped around me before I even heard his steady footsteps.Salvatore stood in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space. The dim light from the window cast long shadows over his face, making his sharp features look even more severe. He didn’t speak right away. He just stood there, watching me with those dark, unreadable eyes."Still sulking?" His voice was low, rough, edged with something I couldn’t quite place.I kept my gaze fixed on the cracked stone wall behind him, refusing to look at him. "I’m not sulking."The bed dipped as he sat beside me. My body tensed. His warmth pressed too close. Too overwhelming. A firm hand gripped my chin, forcing me to turn my face toward him."Look at me when I speak to you."Reluctantly, my eyes

First Person Perspective Elena 's POV For days, I watched everything with careful eyes, studying every movement, every habit, every tiny crack in the pack’s security. I listened to conversations, to footsteps, to the way the wind carried voices from one end of the estate to the other. I learned the patterns, the weaknesses—. the small, careless mistakes that could be my way out. The guards were predictable. They changed shifts at the same exact times every single day, never early, never late. The night guards were the laziest, their discipline slipping as soon as the moon rose high. By midnight, most of them were slumped against walls or snoring quietly, their weapons forgotten beside them. The east gate had been broken for weeks, a jagged hole in the metal barely hidden by overgrown vines. They kept saying they would fix it, but no one ever did. The kitchen staff, tired and overworked, always left the back door unlocked when they dragged the heavy trash bags outside, too exhauste