My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 493

Chapter 493: Chapter 493 A DEFECTIVE OUTCOME

SERAPHINA’S POV

I had expected Catherine to be calculating.

I had expected her to be cruel.

What I had not expected was how calm she looked after it was done, as though everything that had just happened inside this ruined battlefield—the puppet, the suffering, the collapsing remnants of her own carefully constructed chaos—had merely been a minor inconvenience she had already finished sorting through.

She stood still in her barrier like a queen surveying a battlefield she had already won.

The air around her still trembled faintly with residual corruption, dark threads of stolen power curling and retracting into her like obedient snakes returning to a master’s hand.

I could feel it even from where I stood, still in Alina’s form, my senses stretched thin and razor-sharp with fury.

Catherine had not only survived the chaos of her own creation, but she had also absorbed it, digested it, and made it part of herself.

Her gaze landed on me with slow amusement.

“Well then,” she said lightly, as though she were commenting on damaged merchandise rather than a living being who had bled, fought, and endured everything she had thrown at it.

Her lips curved slightly, not quite a smile—more like a scientist examining laboratory results. “That was...unfortunate.”

The casualness of her voice made my jaw clench, and my breath catch. I felt a hot wave of disbelief roil through me, sharp enough that it nearly stole my next thought.

Unfortunate?

That creature had suffered unimaginable torment for who knew how long. A soul had been trapped inside a living nightmare.

And all Catherine could call it was unfortunate.

She shrugged. “Oh well, I suppose that’s what you get from a prototype that should have been discarded long ago.”

My claws dug into the ruined earth before I even realized I had moved.

Alina’s body responded before my mind could fully restrain it, muscles coiling tight beneath fur that bristled with restrained violence.

Catherine tilted her head, studying me with that same clinical interest she might have given a tricky experiment.

“You know,” she continued, her voice softening as if she were confiding something intimate, “I used to think there was potential in you. In all of you. That was my mistake. I allowed sentiment to interfere with efficiency.”

Her eyes flickered briefly toward the devastation around us, toward the remnants of puppets that had once been people, toward the lingering traces of her own handiwork.

Towards my mother’s still body.

“If you and Margaret had simply cooperated back then,” she said wistfully, “none of this would have been necessary. I would not have been forced to maintain...defective outcomes.”

Something inside my chest snapped so sharply it felt like bone breaking.

Mother’s face flashed in my mind—not as she was now, trapped and suffering under Catherine’s control, but as she had been in the fragile moments of our dream connection.

Her voice, steady even through exhaustion, telling me to anchor inward first. To remember who I was before I reached outward.

I had tried.

I had tried so hard.

My mother was gone.

My father’s memory had been desecrated.

My mate was somewhere above us, probably still fighting for his and my life.

But Catherine was standing in front of me now, breathing, speaking, twisting every wound she had ever carved till it festered and rotted.

My fury boiled over, impossible to restrain, an unstoppable flood that drowned every other feeling.

I launched myself forward.

The ground beneath Alina’s paws shattered as I moved, the force of the acceleration sending debris scattering behind me.

My vision narrowed to a single point: Catherine.

Every instinct, every thread of power inside me surged in unison, responding to a rage no longer controlled, no longer guided, but pure and overwhelming.

I struck. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Or I tried to.

The barrier around Catherine dissolved, and she moved.

She did not rush. She did not strain.

She simply shifted her weight slightly to the side, as though stepping out of the way of falling rain, and my attack tore through empty air where she had been only an instant before.

My claws carved through stone instead, sending a spray of fractured earth into the air.

A low, quiet sound left her, almost a sigh.

“You’re still relying on impulse,” she said, circling me with unhurried steps. “Still letting your emotions dictate your timing. It’s almost boring, watching you repeat the same predictable pattern.”

I twisted, trying to track her movement, but she was already behind me.

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