Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals! novel Chapter 215

Chapter 215: 215. Soren

Soren

I knew Maisie. And in the end, that was all that mattered.

She could never have written something so hateful. She didn’t even know how to hate people.

The Queen shook her head and grabbed Maisie’s school books.

Every page she flipped onto had notes at the bottom on how to break the bond. Her most recent classes had started off with class notes and broken off to Philip Gruer’s research on breaking bonds.

We’d all studied him in our first year. His mad thoughts. His methods. It was all scribbled down madly in her books. Exploring the lines of death. Shock therapy. Inducing comatose states to simulate death experiences.

Had she been that eager to end things that she began looking for ways to die?

"She’s been desperate to severe the bond. This much, you can’t deny," the Queen said, her voice sinking deeper than it should’ve.

My vision blurred as the last few weeks came together. Her frenzied manners—no. I shook my head. "I know what you’re doing, and it won’t fucking work--"

She lowered a stack of papers. Bank statements, a trail of withdrawals that would have needed a confirmation from me, but of course, I’d already informed the manager that he needn’t vet transactions from Maisie through me.

What kind of man monitored his wife’s spending?

"All from last night to this morning, while you were rotting in jail," the Queen said. "Clearly, your little bride isn’t just good at pretending. She’s also a very good thief."

I chuckled. "If all Maisie wanted was the money, she didn’t have to steal it. She owns half of everything we do." I licked across my fang. "Where is she? Where have you held her? Why bother trying to talk to this traitor and murderer you have taken such lengths to put in chains moments before you execute him?"

Queen Lysandra’s lips pinched, the first sign of her frustration and she cupped my face. "We both know you had nothing to do with that explosion. You may be a rash, idealistic idiot, but you are not a murderer. The girl and her Exiled mother --"

"Stop fucking saying that!" I snapped, jerking my face out of her grip.

She held on tighter and stroked my cheek. "I want you to see the truth, son. That girl has you brainwashed and bewitched. She has made you her fool."

When I kept staring at her blankly, she let me go with a sigh. "I wanted to spare you from the heartache, because I know how raw and fresh this must all be. But if this is what I need to do to bring you back to your senses, then so be it."

She pulled something else from the pile.

A stack of photos scattered all over the floors.

Maisie stood in an unfamiliar bathroom, in my oversized sweater and a pair of fitted jeans. I remembered the outfit she had worn to her sister’s wedding dress fitting because seeing her choose to wear my clothes had made me unusually giddy the entire day.

In the photo frame, she was staring up with wide, vulnerable eyes at someone. The next frame caught the picture of him rolling up her sleeves. The next had his mouth pressed to her pulse where Quinlan’s mark was. The next, they were kissing and pressed against the door.

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