bChapter /b206

I had promised myself I would not hurt him.

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Francesco carried enough already—the betrayals, the whispers, the blood of kin he had been forced to spill.

I told myself silence was mercy, that keeping Isolde’s poison locked inside me was an act of love.

But silence is its own venom. It spreads quietly, unseen, until the body stiffens and the heart begins to ache under its weight.

And Francesco–my mate, my king–was too attuned to me not to sense it.

For days, he said nothing. But I felt it in the bond. The subtle press of worry against my chest, like a heartbeat that wasn’t mine. His gaze lingered too long. His touches, though gentle, held a searching edge. At night, when he thought I slept, I felt him trace my arm as if counting the ces I was still whole.

He knew something gnawed at me.

And he hated not knowing.

I thought I could keep carrying it.

That I could swallow the bile Isolde had spilled about him, about the Lycaon name, about love turned into mockery. But

I underestimated Francesco.

He had lived with snakes too long.

He knew the sound of scales in grass even when no one else heard.

And tonight, the serpent would be dragged into the open. fn62b3 Updates are released by find?novel/fn62b3

*****

I felt it before I saw it.

The bond jolted like lightning through my veins, sharp and hot.

Rage–not mine, his.

So fierce it stole my breath.

Francesco…

I ran, skirts clutched, boots biting against stone as I tore down the corridor.

Audrey called after me but her voice was nothingpared to the thunder in my chest. The scent of metal

andvender grew stronger with each step, the signature of the ward.

12:01 Tue, Sep b30 /b

The doors were open

I skidded to a halt at the threshold.

The scene inside froze my blood.

Isolde sat upright on her bed, silver chains biting into her wrists but her chin lifted like she wore a crown. Her beauty was sharp still, but herposure wavered. Because across from her stood Francesco,

My Francesco,

But not the man who kissed me soft in gardens or who carried me from dirt–stained soil to bed.

No, this was the Lycan they whispered about.

The executioner of his family.

The heir forged in silence and steel.

His ck eyes burned molten, his chest heaving, his whole body trembling with contained violence.

“What did you say now to my Luna?” His voice was lowi, /iterrible, echoing like thunder off stone walls.

Isolde was startled.

For the first time since she had been brought here, her poise cracked.

She scrambled to recover, lips twitching into something mocking. “What do you mean, Fran—” She faltered, too familiar. Her throat bobbed as she corrected herself. “Ehem… My King Alpha.”

But he did not flinch.

The name meant nothing anymore.

“My Luna changed,” he said, stepping closer, voice slicing through the air. “I know you spread your venom. I know your tongue is as poisoned as the de you once tried to hold.” His eyes narrowed, cruelly bright. “I understand why I thought I loved a woman like you once. Because you are like a snake–beautiful, cold, waiting for a moment to strike. And I should have cut off your head the moment I saw you slithering back, exactly as I should have long ago.”

The torches along the wall guttered, their mes bowing under the weight of his fury.

Even the air seemed to shiver.

Isolde’s mask faltered again.

She had yed with his affection, twisted his grief, but she had never met this side of him–the raw force of the Lycan executioner, unbound.

I couldn’t let this continue.

12:01 Tue, bSep /b30

“Francesco,” I whispered.

But, he didn’t hear me.

His rage was a beast pacing a cage, straining for release.

His chest rose and fell too fast, his fists curling at his sides.

“Francesco,” I said again, louder this time, reaching for him.

He roared, the sound a shattering quake that rattled windows and made Monica, watching from the hall, flinch back. “TELL ME!!”

The sound ripped through me, raw and desperate.

Oh no…

He was not only furious–he was afraid.

Afraid that Isolde’s venom had touched me in a way he couldn’t undo.

Afraid she had nted seeds between us.

I couldn’t let that fear consume him.

I crossed the room, heart pounding, andid my hand against his chest. His heart thundered beneath my palm, his skin searing–hot.

“Francesco.” My voice was steady this time, carrying the bond, pouring love through it like cool water on me. “Look at me.”

Slowly, agonizingly, his dark gaze dragged from Isolde to me.

The fury was still there, molten and barely restrained–but when his eyes locked with mine, it bent, tempered, reshaped by the tether between us.

His chest heaved, breath catching on a growl, but his hand moved–to cover mine where ity against him.

The room was silent but for the sound of our breathing.

Behind me, Isolde stared, shock carved into her features. She had thought she could twist him with her words. She had thought she could destroy me with her poison. But the bond between us was a fortress she could not breach.

Still, Francesco’s voice was sharp when it came again, vibrating against my palm.

“What did you say to my Luna?”

The demand filled the room, heavy and inescapable.

Isolde flinched, truly flinched this time.

And I knew–whether by my lips or hers–the truth would soone out.