Bound By Moonlight to My Mates (by Sofange Daye) novel Chapter 81

Chapter 81

Charlotte

The lock of my cell clicks open, and Samson strides inside. “Get up.”

“Where am I going?” I ask, trying not to choke on my fear.

“To end this,” he growls.

I am dragged through Blackthorn territory, and sick wolves line the streets to watch me. They have been promised that Samson will end this. That he will bring an end to their suffering, and I honestly hope that it is true. Now that I see how many are suffering because of Tala and Theo’s love, I want nothing more than to set them free.

The Blackthorn temple looms ahead, dark and menacing. I am scared, but I won’t let it show on my face. Samson tosses me inside, and the door slams behind me. The wind moans outside, like it is mourning what is coming. Moonlight spills through the windows, casting a silver glow on the marbled floor. My footsteps echo too loudly as I move closer to the altar.

The box sits there, like a threat and a promise. The Moon Goddess’s seal is carved into the lid. The dagger gleams faintly inside, its silver edge trembling with light that feels alive.

“How did you get it open?” I ask, not really caring what his answer is.

“Your mother wouldn’t shut up,” he smirks. “At least she was good for something before she died.”

My breath hitches in my chest. My mother is dead. She was a terrible mother, but for some reason, tears still slip from my eyes when I think about her. Samson cocks his head to the side and watches me for a moment before reaching for the dagger.

“If I kill you,” he whispers. “All of this will end.”

“And if it doesn’t?” I challenge him.

“It will,” he snarls in return.

He begins to chant, holding the dagger in his hands. It glows unnaturally in the moonlight, and I wonder if it is just a figment of my imagination. But the longer he chants, the more it glows. The words he speaks are ancient, a language that has been lost with time. He stumbles across the words, and the light emitting from the blade falters for a moment.

He curses under his breath, and the wind rips around the temple. Suddenly, the temple doors slam open and Theo rushes inside. Along with him comes the sound of a battle coming from outside. I glance over his shoulder and see Jake and Damon fighting the sick warriors of the Blackthorn Pack.

“Cricket,” he shouts as he steps closer to me.

He is only a few feet from me, and symbols carved into the floor ignite into flames. Samson is knocked back, and the dagger flies from his hands, landing at my feet.

I look down at it, my heart racing with unease. I lower myself to the ground, wrapping my hands around the hilt. It burns against my flesh, pulsing like it is alive.

Theo stands across from me. His face is calm, too calm, the way it always is when he’s trying to hide the storm behind his eyes.

“Charlotte,” he says softly, like he’s afraid my name will shatter if spoken too loud. “You know what to do.”

“You really mean for me to do this?” I whisper.

you have

He nods once. The movement breaks something in me. The flames surge around us, and I swallow down my fear.

I can taste the magic in the air. Tala’s memories hum in my chest like a second heartbeat. The dagger. The fire. The promise that destroyed everything.

“You were never supposed to pay for her sins,” Theo says, stepping forward. “But the curse was written in both our blood. It’s the only way to end it.”

He stops close enough that I can feel his heat. His hand lifts, brushing my cheek, wiping the tears that are dripping from my eyes.

I should hate him. I should be furious for what he’s asking. But all I feel is this aching pull, the same gravity that’s bound us across lifetimes.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” My voice cracks. “Why wait until now?”

His

eyes

soften. “Because I was selfish. I wanted one life, one moment, where you loved me freely.”

Tears sting the back of my eyes. “And now you want me to kill you.”

“I want you to live.”

He presses his forehead to mine. For a heartbeat, we just breathe. His hand slides into my hair, and the tremor that runs through him says more than words ever could.

“This doesn’t feel fair,” I whisper.

“It never was.” His lips brush mine, barely there, more exhale than kiss. “But if this is the way the Moon Goddess wills it, then I’ll meet her blade with peace.”

Something in me snaps. I grip the front of his shirt and pull him in. The kiss isn’t gentle this time; it’s desperate, clashing, full of everything we’ll never get to say. He answers with the same need, one hand cupping my jaw, the other gripping my waist like he’s trying to memorize me.

When we finally break apart, both of us are shaking.

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