Chapter 1323

Chapter 1323:

A gentle knock sounded at the door. “Miss Dunn, breakfast is ready,” a servant said softly from the hallway.

I washed up and slipped into a flowing dress before making my way to the dining room. The table was overflowing with delicacies, and I let the fragrant warmth of coffee swirl over my tongue in small, careful sips.

My peace was shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps.

Bang!

The doors burst open, flung wide by a heavy kick.

Colt strode in, his military uniform sharp and imposing, trailed by a dozen soldiers bristling with weapons. “Seize her!”

With a lazy but commanding flick of his wrist, Colt signaled two soldiers, who clamped cold silver cuffs around my wrists.

The biting chill of the metal sent a shiver racing through me. “What is this? What have I done?” I demanded, my voice quivering.

Colt sauntered closer, grabbing my chin and forcing my gaze to his. His smile was glacial, sending a wave of dread through me. “Makenna Dunn, the Saint of the White Wolf Clan,” he drawled.

He leaned in so close I could feel his breath on my neck, making my skin crawl. “That’s why you have to die.”

The title “Saint of the White Wolf Clan” hit me like a blade, sharp and sudden, slicing through my composure.

Fragments of memory shimmered at the edge of my mind, but I couldn’t seize them; they slipped through my fingers like water.

I struggled against the soldiers’ grip, but it was pointless. Under Colt’s orders, they dragged me away.

We moved down a seemingly endless corridor.

Chapters live now at ɢⱯ𝓵𝓷σ𝓿𝓮𝓵𝓼.cоm

The deeper we ventured, the more lavish the palace became. At the end of the corridor, two towering obsidian-inlaid doors creaked open. Inside, a dozen marble columns held up a gilded dome, and the floor was blanketed in a rich crimson carpet.

Atop a raised dais sat a throne, and slumped within it was an elderly man. Was that the king of the Wizard Clan?

He seemed lost inside his royal robes—so frail, so thin that he looked ghostly. His face was ashen, almost waxen, his sunken eyes clouded with age. But as our gazes locked, a sudden, searching brilliance flared in his eyes. Drawing closer, I saw recognition dawn in him, his eyes clearing and sharpening until they blazed with a shocking intensity.

His skeletal hands gripped the throne’s arms as he leaned in, as if I were some apparition. His stare bored into me, as if searching for someone hidden beneath my skin.

“So alike…” he breathed, voice as faint as a memory. His gaze pierced through me, seeing someone else entirely. “Those eyes… identical to hers…”

Lucian, standing at the king’s side, shot me a glance. The next instant, his sharp gaze settled back on the king. He stepped forward and knelt on one knee. “Your Majesty, this woman belongs to Prince Jett. Even if she truly is the White Wolves’ Saint, shouldn’t we wait for Prince Jett’s return before passing judgment?”

“Wait?” Colt cut in with a cold, mocking laugh. “Mr. Ortiz, are you proposing we stand by while Jett swoops in to save her?”

.

.

.