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Chapter 290
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2024-12-31 22:46:46
Collins Patrick Thank you for reading❤️ Happy New Year 😁
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“That bastard!” Tatum yells, punching a hole through the wall of his office, his heart beating fast, his entire aura swirling in visible rage. “Calm down,” Leila says, not feeling any sort of calmness herself and Tatum can sense it, which only pisses him off more. It’s like they can’t get a fucking break, things just keep going from one crisis to the next and it’s all because of one man who wields too much power, it’s beginning to get to his head. It is completely unheard of for an Alpha to name another person as an acting Alpha when he is still alive and more so, even if that was to happen, Theo, his beta would have been in a better position to receive that honor, not fucking Trent. He hisses, tapping frantically on his table, staring at the warning message they had received concerning Amara. This whole thing has Carmela written all over it and Antonio in his vileness would be more than willing to oblige her. Whoever sent them this warning must have found out something. He nee
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“Alpha Tatum,” a tall bulky man dressed in a grey suit bows slightly to Tatum with two much smaller men dressed in similar styled suits walking behind him. They are at the annual werewolf trade fair. An event organized amongst allied packs to foster unity and commerce. Attending the event is the perfect cover for Leila to get away with Amara just in case Antonio still has any men watching them. Tatum gives his hand a firm handshake. “It’s been ages, Curtis. The years have been kind to you.” “As they have been with you. Our Alpha sends his greetings. The North Star pack will forever be grateful to you for saving our Alpha’s life.” “He would have done the same for me,” Tatum pats the side of Curtis’ arm with a small grin that barely lasts a second before he pulls the big man to the side. Curtis is the Beta of Alpha Caden Miles, the Alpha of the North Star pack. Many years ago, during his Alpha training, that was when he met Caden and saved him from being lynched by a pack of rogues
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“I, Alpha Tatum Cromwell, under the all seeing eye of Selene, witnessed by the elders of the Council, renounce my position as the Alpha of the Blood Oak Pack.” He feels the rage of his wolf blending with his as he locks eyes with Trent who has a smug look on his face. Trent steps forward, joining Tatum in the middle of the circle. “Representing the elders, we witness your renouncement. Who do you name as your successor,” Trent’s face is flushed with a look of mockery that makes Zane boil even further. He should have had Trent sentenced to death instead but then he thought it would be quick mercy, he wanted him to suffer imprisonment for the rest of his life as a lesson for all his evil deeds but it seems that decision has come back to bite him in the ass. Zane frowns. “Not as my successor but as an interim ruler, I name—” he extends the claws of his left hand and slashes the wrist of his right hand. He looks slowly from the thick red liquid dripping from his wrist, making patter
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“Welcome to the North Star Pack Leila, I am Alpha Caden,” Alpha Caden says to Leila before opening his arms and squeezing her in a hug. “And you must be Amara,” he smiles, breaking the hug and bends to pick Amara up in his arms, tugging her chin as he chuckles. “Thank you for having us,” Leila replies to Caden, hiding her surprise in her tone. Caden is not like anything she imagined or like most Alphas she knew who were either lean with muscle or bulky with the same. He looked very different, tall and robust with a stomach that could pass for a pregnant woman’s bulge but he has a warm aura to him and his sandy blonde hair has been twisted into short locks. “Thank you?” Caden suddenly frowns at Leila, making her wonder if she said something wrong. “Family does not thank one another. I find that offensive, Leila, you must apologize,” his tone softens and his frown morphs into a smirk. Leila smiles back to him, amused by his character. “I’m sorry Alpha Caden.” “Apology not accepted b
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Leila looks at Amara who is fast asleep beside her in the middle of the night unable to sleep herself. Aside from the fact that she naturally finds it hard to sleep in a new environment for a few days, her heart is heavy. Tatum didn’t argue with her concerning returning to the pack in a few days but her daughter and her have never been separated for more than a day and she will have to leave her, perhaps for weeks or even months, depending on how long it takes for them to get Tatum back his position of Alpha. She runs her hand slowly through Amara’s hair, her eyes welling in tears as she kisses her daughter’s hair, taking a good whiff, a strong sense of anguish filling her for the decision she has to make, even though deep down in her heart she doesn’t want to leave Amara but it’s the only way to keep her safe. Aside from the anonymous letter that they got asking them to protect Amara, she also cannot shake a feeling deep in her heart that Antonio is doing all of this because he wan
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“My daughter!” The sound of the head warrior’s yell as he rushes towards the scene jolts Leila to the harsh reality of what Amara just did. It’s not just that she used her powers in public, breaking a rule that had been given to her but she also used it to hurt someone. Athena flew yards into the air, if anything happens to her, Amara could be in real trouble because of it. “She’s not breathing! Help, somebody do something!” The head warrior yells, clutching Athena to his chest, blood oozing from the corner of the limp girl’s head. Leila rushes towards them as fear of the worst grips her. She ignores Amara who stands there with a blank expression, her face staring at Athena and her father and she tries to hold Athena but the head warrior shoves her away. “Don’t touch my daughter, your child did this, she is evil,” the man spits out with venom, casting a cold look at Amara. “Why?” Leila immediately turns to Amara, holding back the bitter words she wanted to reply to the man with
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Leila stares at her phone for the umpteenth time, feeling very worried. She has a lot on her mind but chief of them is that Tatum hasn’t replied to her messages in days and she cannot reach him via phone call. They’ve been at the Northstar pack for over a week now and it was only the first two days that she was able to communicate with him. Tatum mentioned that Trent had given her three days to return or she will be banished and she has been here for days more than that. After the incident at the training for the competition, she couldn’t just leave the next day, Amara needed her but now, she’s worried something might have happened to Tatum because of her absence to show up during the stipulated time window. She sighs and decides to go see Jenny to talk about it. Jenny can look after Amara and also keep her out of trouble. She needs to go and help Tatum no matter what. His position is their only true security. She steps out of the room given to them in the pack house to go to
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“Again!” Trent yells at the warriors training with Tatum who Tatum had just put to the ground. Tatum is on his knees, one knee on the floor, the other bent with his elbows resting on it as he pants exhaustedly. His shirtless body is dripping with sweat, mixed with his blood oozing out of the whip marks on his back and the side of his torso. “What are you waiting for?!” Trent yells, trashing the whip and landing it on Tatum’s back. “So you think that rebel, Alpha Leo will give you time? Pathetic,” he spits out with venom. As the silver tip of the whip cuts into Tatum’s back and tears his skin on the way out, it sears him with pain but he barely reacts to it, only looking at Trent with a deadly look in his eyes, his teeth clenched. No matter how much pain he has to endure, he will never break before this ceremonial Alpha. He folds his fists together and smiles maniacally at Trent, blood covering his entire dentition. “You need to hit harder, old man. You’re an Alpha now but you see
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The palace glows under the Blood Moon, its light bathes the open-air pavilion where the ceremony unfolds in an ashen hue. It's a few months after the twins’ birth, and Tatum and Leila are hosting the sacred rite for mateless wolves to seek their fated bonds. Flames from torches dance, casting shadows on tables laden with roasted boar, honeyed fruits, and spiced wine. Wolves from every pack fraternize, their laughter and murmurs braid with the pulse of drums and fiddles. The air twinges with anticipation—some are here to seek love, others quest for destiny, all drawn by the moon’s primal pull. Banners of silver and red flutter above, embroidered with crescent moons, and the scent of pine and wildflowers lingers, a tribute to the wild heart of the kingdom. Amara perches on a stone bench near the dance floor, her eyes bright with mischief. Beside her, Amanda leans in, her auburn curls bouncing as she points at a Luna in a garish yellow gown. “Look at that,” Amanda whispers, smi
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It is four years after the coronation, the palace murmurs with life, its stone corridors softened by laughter and sunlight. The scars of Antonio’s cruel reign has faded, replaced by scenic blooms of oaks and phoenix flames. In a sunlit hallway, Amara, now ten, sprints after a giggling three-year-old boy, her dark hair bouncing in a loose braid. The boy, Kael, is Kelvin and Tatiana’s son, visiting for the holiday with his parents. His tiny legs pump furiously, a mischievous grin lighting his face as he dodges Amara’s outstretched hands.“Get back here, you little tornado!” Amara calls, her voice equal parts exasperation and amusement. Kael squeals, darting around a corner, his curls bouncing. He’s fast for his age, but Amara’s longer strides close the gap. She lunges, and scoops him up before he dives into one of the many hiding places in the house behind a groove in the wall. Amara tosses him into the air with a flourish. Kael shrieks with delight, arms wide open like a bird, the
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The palace of lies quiet, the firebrands dimmed after the coronation’s fervor the night before. Moonlight spills through the arched windows of the royal chambers, bathing the room in silver. A fire that's been running now smolders in the hearth, casting shadows that dance across the cloistered room. The revelry—cheers, music, oaths—has faded, leaving only Leila and Tatum, alone at last.Leila stands by the window, her sapphire gown replaced by a simple linen nightwear that flatters her generous hips and ample bosom, her hair loose in dark waves. The weight of the crown lingers, though it rests on a velvet cushion across the room. She gazes at the stars, their light a reminder of battles they've won and promises yet to keep. Tatum approaches her, his footsteps soft on the rug. He’s shed his regal mantle, wearing only a loose tunic and trousers, his silver-gray eyes warm in the firelight.“You’re quiet,” he says, his voice a mere whisper as he wraps his arms around her from behind.
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The great hall of the palace is agog with a celebration. The marble pillars draped in banners of silver and gold. Weeks after Antonio’s fall, the kingdom gathers for a coronation. The air is alive with hope. Crystal chandeliers cast prisms across the mosaic floor, where roses—white for peace, red for sacrifice—form a path to the twin thrones. Nobles in velvet and commoners in their finest pack the hall, their faces bright with belief in a future minus Antonio and his tyranny. Musicians weave an orchestra of harps and flutes, and incense curls upward from holders, sweet and solemn. Today, Tatum and Leila are crowned regent king and queen, stewards of the throne until Amara, the destined Lycan Queen, comes of age. Leila stands radiant in a gown of sapphire silk, her dark hair woven with pearls, and the Phoenix Luna’s aura is a faint shimmer around her where she stands beside her husband. Tatum wears a mantle of black and silver, his presence steady as stone. Amara who is clad
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The crowd's cries for Antonio’s death is a deafening roar. But Antonio rises, his crown askew, tilting to the side, a parody of its glory, his lycan blood burning in his veins. His eyes are wild with defiance, locked onto Tatum. “Enough!” he bellows, silencing the throng. “I demand a wolf duel, one on one, Tatum. To the death.” His voice tremors with menace. “If I win, you, Leila, Amara—all rebels—will die for treason. If I lose, well…” He smirks, baring bone-white, elongated canines. “I won’t.”As a lycan, Antonio towers even in human form, his bulging muscles are a testament to his legendary strength, his wolf form a beast of nightmare. The duel will favor him, for he is a predator born to crush his enemies with every fatal blow he delivers. Leo steps forward, knuckles clenched to cracking whiteness. “No,” he growls. “He’s cornered. We outnumber him, and without his magic, he’s done. Let’s end this now.” Ragna nods in agreement, the scars gleam on his knuckles, ready to charge o
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The plaza hums with apprehension, both of the crowd and those of the faction that now rises against Antonio's tyranny. Alpha Leo’s words hang in the air, a challenge to King Antonio’s reign. The king’s face darkens, his crown glinting like a warning as everyone watches. “You dare betray me?” he snarls, turning to the other Alphas—towering figures clad in furs and steel, their eyes gleaming with lupine intensity. “You dare to defy me?” The crowd quiets, the air tight with impending violence. Antonio struts, eyes like firebrands, his shoes picking off prints from the blood left by Camela earlier. “Alphas, end Leo and Tatum. Now!” he commands again. Stillness descends in the crowd. But the Alphas—Ragna, Soren, and Veyra—stand unmoved, their faces look like they're carved from stone. Ragna, broadest of the three, steps beside Leo, his voice a low growl. “No, Antonio. Your tyranny ends here.” Soren and Veyra nod, their silence louder than any shout. The crowd murmurs, shock rip
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The fall of Carmela lingers but a new dread takes root as Leila rushes through the crowd, hurling herself towards the stage where Amara stands, her small frame dwarfed by that of Antonio. Tatum follows behind her, his face red with fury, his eyes shot with pumping membranes. The crowd parts, clearing the way for the couple as sparks of whispers trail them. “Antonio!” Leila’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp as a blade. “You cannot marry our daughter!” Behind them, a flurry of murmurings animate the crowd, speculations fly, questions too. Tatum steps forward as guards inch around the king. “She's not yours to claim,” Tatum barks, “And you know why.” Antonio's eyes narrow with piercing sharpness at the couple. He knows. Leila feels it in her bones. He now knows. She is the Phoenix Luna. Amara, their daughter, carries the same fire, destined to rise as the kingdom’s next ruler. By binding her to him, Antonio seeks to snuff that destiny, to chain the Phoenix’s lineage to h
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The Grand plaza glitters under the midday sun as Carmela steps out of a silken pavilion, a gorgeous sight that hushes even the worst cynics. Her gown, woven of lace and pearls and sequins, clings to her frame, before fanning into a train that drifts like mist behind her. A diamond studded veil shimmers over her face, and gold threads gleam in her hair. Arches swathed in white silk and roses tower over the wedding altar, where dozens of blossoms—crimson, ivory, gold—spill and waver like a fragrant tide, matching Carmela’s aura. The event that has had everyone wagging their tongues wagging across the kingdom for months is finally here. Cheers and applause erupt from the crowd as she glides with a queen's grace across the raised stage. As she floats down the steps, whispers trail her—some name her divine, the chosen queen. “Look at her,” Leila muses loud enough for Tatum to hear. “If I never saw a snake in a dress. I do now.” “Apt,” Tatum says through a smile as painful as Leila's
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“No he’s not,” Leila snarls at him, her heart burning with rage, her eyes clothed with vengeance, “whatever you have done to him, undo it, now!” “Done to him? I said Tatum’s dead woman, nothing can be done to a dead man. This one here is just my faithful loyal guard dog,” Leo snaps his fingers twice and the man walks over to his side, silent and submissive. Leila’s heart boils with a fervent anger. She knows deep down in her heart that this is her husband, the man she has loved for years. Is he now completely under Leo’s control? Why is everything about him transformed with the exception of his face and voice and if he really is completely under Leo’s influence, then why did he save her, not once but twice. “Tatum, you’re not his dog,” tears stream out of Leila’s eyes, her heart clenching with unimaginable pain. “You’re the most powerful Alpha in the realm, Alpha of the Blood Oak pack, my Alpha, my husband…do you really not recognize your sweet pea anymore?” The man’s eyes snap to
