[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-my-sister-stole-my-mate-and-i-let-her":3,"chapter-my-sister-stole-my-mate-and-i-let-her-my-sister-stole-my-mate-and-i-let-her-chapter-430":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},764554,1010,"Chapter 430 MIREYA","my-sister-stole-my-mate-and-i-let-her-chapter-430",430,"\u003Cp>MIREYA’S POV\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I didn’t remember the exact moment everything went wrong.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a long time, all I had were disjointed fragments—sensations that didn’t quite connect, like scattered story pieces I was left to collect and piece together myself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The smell of sun-warmed dust.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Laughter—mine, I think.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My sister’s voice, calling after me with annoyance and fondness intertwined: “Don’t go too far.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I had gone anyway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was supposed to be a short trip. A simple errand just beyond the boundary of familiar territory, the kind that didn’t require a second thought.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I remembered the sky being clear that day, the kind of blue that made everything feel endless, open, safe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I remembered thinking I’d be back before sunset.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The next memory came like a rupture.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Rough hands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Too many.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The world tilted as something slammed into the back of my head. The sound hadn’t even registered properly before the ground was gone beneath me, and darkness followed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When I woke, it was to pain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And voices. Low. Transactional.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“...good condition.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Pretty enough.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Should fetch a good price.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I didn’t understand at first. My thoughts were thick and slow, as if wading through honey. My wrists burned when I moved—that’s when I realized they were bound.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The room was dim. Not dark, but deliberately shadowed, like whoever owned it preferred things hidden.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A man stood near the door, arms crossed, watching me with the kind of detached interest one might give an object they were considering purchasing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“She’s awake,” he said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another voice answered from somewhere behind him. “Good. We’ll move her tonight.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Where?\" My voice was rough.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man by the door smiled in a way that reminded me of a shark documentary I’d once watched.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’ll see.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everything moved too quickly after that—new restraints, a sack pulled over my head, the world reduced to sound and motion and the sharp, suffocating scent of suppressants.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By the time I saw light again, it wasn’t freedom waiting on the other side; it was a different kind of cage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Women lined the walls—some silent, others in tears. The air was thick with perfume that couldn’t mask the sourness beneath.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Days blurred. Or maybe it was weeks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Time stopped meaning anything when there was nothing to measure it against.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They fed us, kept us clean, watched us like inventory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I learned quickly not to speak unless spoken to.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Learned even faster that resistance didn’t change outcomes. It only brought hurt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Day in and day out, our numbers fluctuated. Some days they took. Other days, they brought in fresh faces.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And then they came for me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Move,” the guard who came for me snapped, not bothering to hide his irritation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I am moving,” I hissed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He shoved me. “Not fast enough.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stumbled, almost smacking my head against the door we’d angled towards.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He knocked once.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Enter,” a deep voice called out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pushed it open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Delivery,” he said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Delivery.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The word landed inside me, cold and leaden, sinking into a pit of dread that made my whole body clench.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I lifted my head as I was shoved inside—and everything went still.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It hit me like something inside my chest had been yanked forward without warning, as if a thread I hadn’t known existed had abruptly pulled taut.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My breath caught as the bluest blue gaze snapped to mine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And in that moment, everything locked into place.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The word didn’t come from thought.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It came from instinct.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Boss?” the guard called out when the man in the room—his boss, apparently—didn’t move.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Leave,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The guard didn’t argue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The door closed behind him with a soft click that sounded far too final.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Silence settled. Heavy. Charged.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I couldn’t look away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Neither could he.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s your name?” he asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His voice was low and controlled, like everything about him existed behind restraint.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“M-mireya.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He repeated it under his breath, like testing how it felt. “Mireya.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My heart actually skipped a beat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Damian,” he said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was how I met my mate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At first, I thought the bond meant something. I thought it might save me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And for a while, I convinced myself that it had.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t treat me like the others.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Didn’t touch me the way the men at the brothel the women were sold to had planned to.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He took care of me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gave me a room that wasn’t a cell. Clothes that actually kept me warm and didn’t put me on display. Food that didn’t taste like mold and rot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And sometimes, he was gentle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Enough that I started to believe there was something there I could reach.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You don’t have to do this,” I told him once when we were alone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His gaze lifted from whatever document he’d been reading, settling on me with uninterrupted focus.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do what?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“This,” I said, gesturing vaguely, meaning everything and nothing all at once. “Whatever this is.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A faint smile touched his lips. It didn’t reach his eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’ll have to be more specific.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You know what I mean.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He studied me for a long moment, his piercing blue gaze unsettling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he stood and crossed the room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every instinct in me said to step back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I didn’t. I held my ground.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Be careful,” he said quietly, stopping in front of me. “You’re starting to sound like you think you understand things you don’t.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I understand enough.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His hand lifted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I couldn’t help it; I flinched.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But instead of striking, he brushed his fingers lightly along my jaw, tilting my face up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The touch was gentle. Tender\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You don’t,” he murmured. “And you’re better off not knowing. You just sit pretty and stay safe.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was moments like that that made it easy to delude myself. Easy to pretend I was in some sort of loving relationship.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But it got harder to pretend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To pretend I didn’t hear screams of abused women day in and out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To pretend I didn’t see Damian wiping blood off his hands on more than one occasion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To pretend that I hadn’t slipped out of bed one fateful night and watched him rip a guard’s throat out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was the first time I tried to run.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn’t the last.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Each attempt ended the same way.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Failure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Capture.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And afterward, punishment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn’t physical—he could never bring himself to hit me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My punishment was isolation. Restriction. Starvation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The world shrank, everything tightening and squeezing until the very act of drawing breath felt stolen, like even my lungs no longer belonged to me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re doing this to yourself,” Damian told me once, after dragging me back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You could just let me go.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Why?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His grip tightened on my arm.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Because you’re mine.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I’d dreamed my whole life of hearing that sentence from my mate. Someone who loved me wholeheartedly, who would die before seeing me hurt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fate had a sick sense of humor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I was on my knees before him, my wrists and ankles bound by silver, when he came up with the idea.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You want freedom?” he asked, his tone conversational. “I’ll give it to you.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That got my attention. “You will?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gave me a small cold smile. He took a sip from the glass of scotch in his hand before he spoke again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’ll put you up for auction.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blanched. “What?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He shrugged. “If someone bids on you, then you’ll be free.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It sounded simple.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn’t.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Because no one touched what belonged to Damian Rooke.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one crossed that line.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And even when someone dared to place a bid, they never followed through.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was always a better deal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A safer option.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A smarter choice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Or a mysterious \"accident.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And I remained.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Displayed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Circulated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Untouchable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Until her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She didn’t hesitate, didn’t back down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She saw the line and tap-danced all over it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even now, standing in the quiet aftermath of escape, I couldn’t quite understand it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Why me?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Why that risk?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You never have to go back there.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her voice echoed in my mind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I looked down at my hands.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They were steady. They bore no chains.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That felt unnatural, like my skin was too loose.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For so long, everything had been measured in control—what I showed, what I hid, what I allowed to slip through.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, there was space.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Too much of it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seraphina and Kieran.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Together, they felt like something solid in a world that had been anything but.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I owe you,” I said quietly. “I’ll repay it. However you need.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was the only thing I had left to offer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But before that...”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The words caught.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Something like hope—a fragile thing—quivered in my chest, daring to take root again after so long buried under fear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I need to go home. I have a sister, and I need to let her know I’m alive. I need to go home to Olivia.”\u003C\u002Fp>",1475,"2026-06-03T02:27:49.405Z",1,"novelbin.me","99e14e21fc14fd8d112be104c7eeb48325aaf87c781e3699d05e4e1d271898da","my-sister-stole-my-mate-and-i-let-her-chapter-431","my-sister-stole-my-mate-and-i-let-her-chapter-429",488,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmy-sister-stole-my-mate-and-i-let-her-cover.jpg"]