Game of Thrones (Amica and Deckard) novel Chapter 157

Chapter 157

Leonard,

I can’t believe this.

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I always knew Mary was obsessed with Deckard–always looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. And even though I had feelings for her, I kept them to myself. I respected her choices because I knew they had something between them.

But I also knew the truth.

Deckard could never give her what she wanted.

And I was right.

The moment he found his mate, he cast her aside without a second thought. I saw it coming. I saw the way she looked at him, desperate for something real. And now? She’s just left behind, forgotten.

I did speak to her about my feelings once. I laid it out clearly. But she wouldn’t budge. Not even when I knew–I knew–she had feelings for me too.

I told myself she just needed time. She was heartbroken, confused. Eventually, she’d realize what was right in front of her. She’d realize I was the one for her.

But now I wonder…”

Maybe she knew exactly what she was doing.

Maybe she liked playing with my feelings–keeping me close enough to hold on to, but never close enough to truly have. She wouldn’t let us be together…

But she also wouldn’t let me go.

The moment Mary sees me forming a bond with another woman, she gets mad–furious, even. She pulls me back in, dangles hope in front of me like a prize just out of reach. It makes no sense. Why the hell does she care if she doesn’t want me?

She teases me, plays with my emotions, making me burn for her. Just when I think she’s finally going to choose me, she retreats–back into that endless cycle of uncertainty.

It’s exhausting.

After a while, I accepted the truth–she was never going to be mine.

But that didn’t stop me from feeling.

I still watched over her, still cared for her, still wanted the best for her.

Going back to Blackstone Castle, I had only one goal–to save the people I care about. Mary and Amica. Because of Deckard.

But now?

Now, I don’t know what to think.

What relationship does Mary have with Darth? How could she be so desperate? So shameless?

As I run, the rogues chasing close behind me, my heart feels heavier than my pounding feet. The pain of what I just witnessed gnaws at me, threatening to slow me down.

Mary–my Mary–standing with Darth. Defending him.

I remember the whispers, the stories.

That maybe–just maybe–she rejected her fated mate… just to chase after Deckard.

I admired her courage–I really did. But I always thought that, at some point, she would accept the truth. That she would realize Deckard was never meant to be hers. That there was more to life than chasing a man who would never choose her.

It wasn’t long after I first laid eyes on her that I started catching feelings.

I watched her from a distance before even approaching, studying her, trying to understand her. And when I finally did, I could swear–her energy toward me was different. Positive. Like maybe, just maybe, she saw me the same way I saw her.

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Chapter 157

Fine. Let’s say she never had feelings for me. Let’s say she always wanted Deckard. But if that’s true, then why–the moment he dies–does she switch sides so easily?

To his evil stepbrother.

Like he means nothing.

Like she’s just replacing one obsession with another.

Mary is a snake.

And Deckard needs to know it.

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I shake the thoughts from my head and focus on running. My feet pound against the dirt, my breath comes fast, and I force myself to open up my senses. I search for the scent of the Gamma warriors, for any trace of my people who escaped.

I have to find them.

The rogues are relentless.

I know I can’t outrun them forever, so I stop taking the straight path. Instead, I veer off into the woods, weaving between the trees, cutting sharp turns to throw them off. Anything to keep them distracted–anything to keep them from chasing after Amica and the warriors with her.

The entire city is on high alert now. They’re all searching for us.

Getting into Blackwater was easy. Too easy. Darth never expected an intrusion–he never needed to. His name alone was enough to instill fear, to keep outsiders from daring to enter.

Except the rogues.

Most of our men never even got the chance to fight. Some were decapitated, others arrested or stripped of their strength by magic. And too many… too many were killed.

But I’m still here.

I know this city better than most of these rogues. I know the places they don’t, the hidden spots they wouldn’t think to check.

1 duck behind a jagged rock formation, pressing my back against the cold surface. My breath is ragged, my pulse hammering in my ears. I force myself to stay still, to wait for them to pass.

But even as I hide for my own survival, my mind is elsewhere.

Amica.

They must not find her.

If they do if they catch her–then I have failed.

And if I fail…

Deckard will die.

“He’s hiding around here–make sure you find him.”

The rogue commander’s voice is sharp, filled with authority.

“The rest of you, find Luna or anyone associated with this. A lot of them have escaped, so it won’t be hard to get our hands on a few.”

I hear their footsteps scatter, some heading toward the city, others remaining close–searching for me.

There are too many of them.

Far more than the Gamma warriors.

I grind my teeth, knowing what this means. Many of our people will be caught. Some might already be.

I inhale deeply, drawing in their scents. Seven.

There are seven rogues nearby. I can’t take them on like this. Not as I am.

I need to shift.

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But shifting now would be a mistake. It’s too loud. Too slow. They’d hear me before I even finished.

I need a distraction.

1 grab a rock, weighing it in my palm before hurling it as far as I can in the opposite direction. The sharp crack of it hitting something solid echoes through the area.

The rogues snap to attention.

“There!” one of them shouts.

They rush toward the sound without hesitation.

The second they do, I let go of my breath and focus.

It’s time to change.

My bones snap violently, the pain tearing through me like fire. I try to suppress the howl rising in my throat, but it’s impossible. The transformation is brutal–unyielding.

Mid–shift, a heavy weight crashes against my back.

One of the rogues.

He’s trying to stop me.

Fool.

I slam my back against the rock behind me with all my strength. The impact sends a sickening crack through the air.

Warmth splatters against my skin.

Blood.

The rogue’s body slumps behind me, his lifeblood coating my face, seeping into my mouth.

The taste ignites something dark inside me.

My pulse surges. My senses sharpen.

I lift my head and sniff the air. The others are close.

I see them rushing toward me, but all I feel is hunger.

They are prey.

With blinding speed, I lunge at two wolves charging forward. My claws slice through their flesh like hot blades through butter.

A strangled yelp–then silence.