Whoops, His Mistress Crashed Our Wedding. Mine Didn't novel Chapter 156

Chapter 156

Envy

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The moment Felix’s hands slip from mine, everything tears open. His strength, the

steady anchor holding me against the storm, vanishes. Pain rips through me in waves so

brutal I can’t breathe, can’t think. My scream splits the air, raw and jagged. Every bone

in my body cracks, breaks, and reshapes. My spine arches violently, ribs snapping like

brittle branches, muscles tearing to reform. The agony is endless, unrelenting, and I feel every single second of it. The pup inside me kicks hard, a desperate pulse of life, and my arms curl instinctively over my belly. Hold on, I beg. Please hold on. But the pain is too much. It drags me down into the dirt, nails clawing furrows in the soil as my throat burns from the endless sound of my own screaming. Inside my head, Layah howls, the sound so sharp it feels like glass shattering in my skull. Around me, I hear the howls of my family echoing hers, Xavier, Haiden, Noah, Levi, all of them calling to me, calling for me. But their howls are strained, broken by pain and battle. They’re dying. They’re all dying. Through the haze of agony, I see shadows closing in. Witches. Cloaked in black, eyes glowing, moving slowly and sure. My vision flickers in and out, the world turning to smears of red and gray, but one face slices through the blur like a blade. Salira.

She walks toward me like she’s been waiting centuries for this. Her steps are unhurried, deliberate, a predator savoring the final strike. She kneels before me, her robe whispering against the ground, and her gaze fixes not on my face, but on the swell of my stomach. My child.

“I’ve waited a very long time for this,” she says, her voice low and venomous. She smiles, cruel and sharp, as she pulls a knife from her robe. Its edge glimmers with a sickly light. Her other hand lowers, hovering just above my belly. “Thank you for your sacrifice.”

Her touch burns like ice. Rage explodes inside me. This witch. This power–hungry, bloodthirsty bitch. The one who made me prey. The one who thinks she can take what’s mine. Not my child. Not again. My vision tunnels. I focus on her hand pressed to me, on the flow of magic pulsing under her skin. I pull. Hard. With everything I have left, I lock her hand in place with my power and turn her own life against her. My magic digs into her veins, into her soul, and I start to take it. Slowly at first, then faster, greedier. Her eyes widen. The smugness vanishes. She thrashes, tries to wrench her hand away, but I’ve chained her to me. Her scream rips through the battlefield, louder than the clash of

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Chapter 156

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teeth, louder than the chants of her coven. Her soul shimmers, a pale, writhing light, and I rip it free piece by piece. The surge hits me like fire in my blood. My body seizes, then breaks again as the final stage of my shift detonates inside me. Black–gold light erupts around me, scorching the earth. My Lycan bursts free, massive, towering, a beast born of rage and blood and survival. I stand tall, my paws sinking into the earth, my chest. heaving with power. Salira collapses at my feet, nothing but a husk, her body shriveled, her life force drained dry. Dead. Finally.

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