Submission is Not My Style novel Chapter 140

“You know what to do,” she says, her voice low but firm. “Once I am inside the necklace.”

Jack shifts back, his bare chest rising and falling with exhaustion. His eyes flash with panic. “Are you

sure about this?”

“This isn’t the time to hesitate and be a pussy, Jack,” she snaps, stepping toward him with command that brooks no refusal. “If we don’t act now, Malik will return tenfold in strength. Veydris will rebuild his body,

his soul will be reborn, and then no one–not me, not you, not even the King–will be able to stop him. Think of your mate. Think of your unborn child. Is that the future you want–for Malik’s shadow to fall

over them and drag us all into hell?”

Jack’s throat works, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turn white. He gives a single, sharp nod.

The Queen closes her eyes and lifts her hands over the necklace, chanting again, each ancient syllable

weaving like blades through the night.

“Syr’anthos vel kriah, soulis entravi, mor’thir etha’kai…”

Light engulfs her, her body trembling though she stands tall. Slowly, her spirit tears free–radiant and fierce–while her body remains upright, motionless, eyes closed as if in sleep. Her soul drifts toward the

necklace, drawn into its cursed depths.

“My queen-” Jack’s voice cracks, but he doesn’t stop her.

The last flicker of her spirit glances back, her gaze locking with his. Do it.

With a guttural roar, Jack shifts again, his claws slashing down. The necklace shatters beneath the blow, light exploding outward in a blinding flare-

-and a voice, sharp and furious, screams behind him.

“NO!”

Jack whirls, eyes widening as his heart seizes. His mate. Kali. But it’s already too late. The shards scatter

at his feet like dying stars, his claws dripping with ash and smoke.

Kali stands in the moonlight, hair tangled, eyes wide with terror. For a heartbeat, he can’t breathe, can’t understand how she found him after he had severed the tether, shutting her out.

But she has.

And behind her, half–shadowed, stands the King–that sight explains everything. His face is twisted in fury and grief, and the sound that tears from him–low, guttural, and broken–shakes the very earth. It isn’t the roar of a king. It’s the cry of a man watching his soulmate being torn away.

Jack’s blood runs cold. He knows the pain must be unbearable, seeing his mate’s lifeless body. But the

Queen had chosen her fate. She had decided to die.

Kali takes an unsteady step forward, her body trembling as if the ground beneath her wants to swallow

her whole. She stops before the Queen’s still form, her hands shaking as she cups her mother’s face.

“Mother…” Her voice cracks, shatters. “Open your eyes. Please–please, don’t leave me forever.”

Her screams tear through the clearing, raw and desperate, echoing in Jack’s bones. She shakes the Queen’s shoulders, tears dripping freely down her cheeks. “You can’t leave me. Come back to me. There

must be a way.”

The silence that answers is worse than any sound.

Kali’s wail rips through the night, sharp enough to break him. She clutches her chest, then her belly. Her body bends forward, and Jack’s world freezes as he sees it–dark red spilling down her thighs, blood

dripping fast and merciless into the dirt.

“Kali!” His voice is thunder, ragged with panic. He lunges, his wolf form shedding in a flash of light until

he’s human again, racing toward her.

Her body collapses against his arms before she hits the ground, small and fragile despite the fire she

always carried. His hands are everywhere–holding, clutching, desperate to stop what he can’t stop.

“No, no, no…” Jack’s voice breaks as he cradles her, his heart splitting open with every drop of blood that

stains his skin. “Don’t do this to me. Not you. Not our baby.”

Kali’s lashes flutter weakly, her lips parting in a soundless plea. Jack pulls her tighter, rocking her against his chest as if his strength alone could keep her tethered. His head tips back, and his roar this

time isn’t fury.

It’s grief.

It shakes the trees. It shakes the sky.

And still, the Queen’s body remains motionless, her spirit gone.