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Chapter 46: The Alpha's Promise
Last Updated:
2025-02-10 15:59:05
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Second Person POV You don’t have time to scream. The world fractures into chaos—glass shards rain down like jagged hail, Zane’s feral snarls echoing through the broken windows. Silas clings to Ryland’s neck, his tiny fingers digging into the Alpha’s skin, while Selene scrambles behind the overturned couch. Shadows writhe like living things, their tendrils lashing at Ryland’s wolf as he shields the children. “Get them out!” you shout, but the command dies in your throat as Zane’s amber eyes lock onto yours through the shattered frame. He’s not the man who brought you groceries or fixed the twins’ swing set. This Zane is all predator, his human form blurred at the edges, claws elongating into obsidian daggers. “You *owed* me, Zara,” he hisses. “I gave you shelter. I *loved* them.” Ryland shifts back mid-snarl, blood streaking his bare chest. “Touch them and I’ll peel the flesh from your bones.” Zane laughs—a broken, hollow sound. “You think you’re still their savior, Cross?
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Ryland Pov You wake to the sound of Selene’s whimpers, her small fists clawing at the air as if fighting invisible chains. Silas lies rigid beside her, his eyes wide and unblinking, moonlight reflecting off the tears streaking his temples. They’ve shared a bed since the attack, their nightmares too synchronized to separate. “It’s okay,” you whisper, gathering them close. Their skin burns against yours, feverish and damp. “You’re safe.” Selene buries her face in your neck. “The lady with the crown… She wants to *take* us.” Silas nods, his voice hollow. “She smells like ash and lies.” *The Elders.* Ryland’s warnings echo in your skull. *They’ll come for the twins. For their power.* You hum a lullaby, the same one your mother sang before the Bloodfang Pack slaughtered her. The twins’ breathing evens, but their hands stay fisted in your shirt. Ryland stands in the doorway, a shadow among shadows. “They’re getting worse,” he says. You don’t answer. --- ### **||** Break
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--- The gates creak open, and the scent of blood hits you like a wall. The Bloodfang compound is a graveyard. Bodies litter the courtyard—warriors, Omegas, even children. Their throats are slit, their eyes wide and unseeing. The air reeks of iron and betrayal. “What the hell…” Ryland’s voice is a low growl, his sword gleaming in the torchlight. Selene whimpers, burying her face in your neck. “They’re scared, Mommy. All of them.” Silas grips your hand tighter. “The crowned lady did this. She’s… laughing.” Your stomach churns. The Elders. They’ve turned on their own pack. Ryland steps forward, his boots crunching on shattered glass. “Show yourself, Marcellus!” The shadows shift. Elder Marcellus emerges from the darkness, his robes stained crimson. His face is gaunt, his eyes hollow. “You’re too late, Ryland. The ritual has begun.” “What ritual?” you demand, shifting to shield the twins. Marcellus smiles—a grotesque twist of lips. “The one that will make us gods.”
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Ryland Pov The bonfire crackles, painting the pack’s faces in warm, flickering light. Laughter rings out—a sound so foreign after months of fear—as warriors pass around spiced mead and children chase each other through the long grass. Even the stars seem brighter tonight, as though the Moon Goddess herself is celebrating. You sit beside Ryland on the dais, his thigh pressed to yours, the twins asleep in his lap. Selene’s cheek smushes against his chest, her curls wild from Silas’s earlier attempts to braid them. For the first time in years, your wolf is quiet. *Peaceful*. Ryland’s fingers brush yours. “They’re safe, Zara,” he murmurs, as if reading your thoughts. “We’re *all* safe.” You want to believe him. But the scars on your ribs ache, and Silas’s hands still glow faintly in his sleep. A cheer erupts as Elder Kael—*former* Elder, now just Kael—raises his cup. “To our Alpha and Luna! To the twins who shattered the darkness!” The pack roars. Ryland’s arm tightens around
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Zara's POV The bakery is quiet, the soft hum of the oven the only sound breaking the silence. The twins are at the counter, their heads bent over a coloring book, their little hands moving in sync as they fill the pages with bright, chaotic colors. I watch them from the kitchen, my heart swelling with a mix of love and fear. They’re so innocent, so unaware of the storm brewing just outside the fragile bubble I’ve built for them. And then the door opens. The bell above it jingles, a sound so familiar it usually brings me comfort. But not today. Today, it feels like a warning. I step out of the kitchen, wiping my hands on my apron, and freeze. Ryland stands in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, his presence overwhelming. His dark eyes sweep the room, landing on the twins before finally settling on me. My heart stops. “Mommy?” Selene’s voice is small, curious. She peeks around me, her wide eyes darting between me and Ryland. “Who’s that?” I don’t answer. I
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Zara's POV The days after Ryland’s arrival blur together, each one a strange mix of tension and tentative hope. He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand. He just… stays. He lingers on the edges of our lives, watching, waiting, as if he’s afraid to step too close. The twins, of course, are curious. They ask questions—questions I don’t know how to answer. “Is he our daddy?” Selene asks one evening as I tuck her into bed. I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. “Why do you ask that?” She shrugs, her little face serious. “He looks like us. And he smells… familiar.” I swallow hard, my throat tight. “He’s… someone from Mommy’s past. But he’s not your daddy.” It’s a lie, and I hate myself for it. But I’m not ready to tell them the truth. Not yet. Silas, ever the perceptive one, doesn’t ask. He just watches Ryland with a quiet intensity, like he’s trying to figure him out. One afternoon, I find Ryland sitting on the porch, his head in his hands. He looks up when I approach, his eyes shado
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Zara’s POV The twins’ laughter echoes through the forest, a sound so pure it almost drowns out the unease clawing at my chest. Silas and Selene dart between the trees, their small hands brushing against bark and leaves as they play a game only they understand. Ryland walks beside me, his presence a steady hum of warmth, but I keep my distance. Trust is still a fragile thing, like glass balanced on the edge of a table. “They’re adapting well,” Ryland says, his voice low, careful. I nod, my eyes never leaving the twins. “They’ve always loved the woods. Even when we lived in town, they’d beg to explore the park.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “They’re naturals. Look at how they move—like they’ve known these trails their whole lives.” I bite back the sharp reply on my tongue. *They should have.* This life—the scent of pine, the rhythm of the pack, the safety of a territory—should have been theirs from the start. But I don’t say it. The past is a wound we’re both
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Zara's POV The scent of burnt sage and dried blood clings to the air, a bitter reminder of the battle we barely survived. The pack gathers in the central clearing at dusk, their faces gaunt under the fading light. Three pyres burn at the edge of the territory, flames devouring the bodies of the warriors lost to Zane’s ambush. Ryland stands at the front, his posture rigid, his voice steady as he recites the rites of passage. But I see the tremor in his hands, the way his jaw clenches every time the wind carries the twins’ whispers to his ears. *We failed them.* The guilt is a living thing, gnawing at my ribs. Selene presses her face into my side, her small fingers clutching my sleeve. “Why are they burning, Mommy?” “It’s how we say goodbye,” I murmur, stroking her hair. “Their spirits will join the Moon Goddess now.” Silas says nothing. He stares at the flames, his eyes reflecting the firelight like twin coals. There’s a stillness in him that frightens me, a quiet too heavy fo
Last Updated : 2025-02-11
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**Silas’s POV** The pyre’s smoke curls into the dawn sky, carrying the acrid stench of betrayal. Mara’s ashes mingle with the frost, but the pack’s eyes linger on me—not with reverence, but fear. My scar pulses faintly, a reminder of the Shadow’s whispers that still snake through my dreams. “You’re staring again,” Selene murmurs, her glow dimmed by exhaustion. I rip my gaze from the crow perched atop the charred remains of the sacred oak. Its violet eye glints, unblinking. “It’s watching us.” “It’s just a bird,” she says, but her trembling hands betray her doubt. The crow caws, sharp and mocking, before vanishing into the mist. --- **Ryland’s Burden** The pack gathers in the hollow, their murmurs a storm of grief and suspicion. Jarek stands apart, sharpening his axe with deliberate slowness. “Mara’s betrayal doesn’t erase her years of loyalty,” Ryland declares, his voice raw. “We mourn her. Then we rebuild.” “Rebuild *what*?” a young warrior snaps. “The rot’s back.
