Chapter 1235

Chapter 1235:

Clayton’s brow furrowed, his eyes searching mine with puzzlement. “What did he say?” he asked.

I inhaled sharply, my words laced with venom. “He confessed he loves her with all his heart. Right before he fainted, he laid his heart bare.”

Clayton fell silent, a shadow of complexity crossing his gaze. He lowered his head, his voice heavy with reluctance. “Dominic, didn’t we always know Makenna could never belong to us alone? She is extraordinary—radiant. It’s only natural others would fall for her.”

Bryan, still gently tending to Winfred, brushed a finger along the child’s cheek. His eyes carried a quiet depth, a flicker of resignation in his expression, as though wrestling with unspoken thoughts.

“We’ve already accepted Jett. But if more men come vying for her, will Makenna even spare a thought for us? Will we still hold a place in her heart?” I growled, my jealousy a gnawing beast.

Clayton, ever the calm amidst the storm, offered a gentle counter. “Dominic, Makenna’s heart was never ours to claim entirely. Her kindness, her strength—they draw people to her like moths to a flame. All we can do is stand by her, shield her, not wound her with our jealousy.”

He exhaled a weary sigh, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “Truth be told… I’m terrified of losing her.”

His words hung in the air, yet my heart remained unyielding, consumed by jealousy that refused to relent.

Makenna’s POV:

I spent the entire night at Alden’s bedside, tending to his needs. It wasn’t until the first hints of dawn painted the sky that I dragged my weary frame back to my chamber. Yet, despite my exhaustion, sleep remained a distant stranger.

My mind churned, caught in a relentless tug-of-war between concern for Alden and the weighty matter of the sacred artifact, robbing me of any chance for rest.

R3ad th3 l4t3st 0n g4ln0v3ls.c0m

Hours later, I rose, hastily freshened up, and, with dark circles shadowing my eyes, set out to meet the three princes to deliberate on our next steps. When I pushed open the heavy doors of the conference hall, I found them already gathered, their faces etched with solemnity.

Bryan clutched the blood-streaked ancient manuscript Alden had brought back, his brow knitted, a sign he had already pored over the contents.

“Makenna, you’ve arrived,” Bryan said, his gaze lifting to meet mine. A flicker of worry crossed his features as he noted the shadows beneath my eyes. “You look drained. Are you alright?”

“I’m managing,” I replied, mustering a faint smile despite the fatigue lacing my voice. “Any progress on the sacred artifact?”

Bryan nodded, unfurling the manuscript across the table. He pointed to a weathered page and said, “The records indicate the sacred artifact lies within the werewolf cemetery in the mountains.”

My eyes widened in astonishment. “The very cemetery we visited to pay our respects?” I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief.

“Precisely,” Clayton confirmed, his brow furrowed, his tone heavy with gravity. “But that cemetery sprawls across vast tracts, housing generations of Lycan royalty. The area we saw was but a sliver of its entirety. Locating the sacred artifact will be no small feat, especially since the text offers only a vague description of its appearance.”

I stepped closer to the table, leaning in to scrutinize the ancient script. The text devoted mere lines to the artifact’s form, hinting it might be concealed in a hidden nook within the cemetery, yet it provided no precise location or details.

.

.

.