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Chapter 294
Last Updated:
2025-01-04 23:26:12
Collins Patrick Thank you for reading❤️
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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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“Stop here,” Leila says to the driver bringing her back to the Blood oak pack territory, her voice low and sullen, her eyes pregnant with tears but she holds it in, determined to stay strong for her, Amara and Tatum.They both needed her and she had to make a choice.Something inside her feels torn that she chose Tatum over Amara, that she chose the father who abandoned them over the child who brought joy back into her life.She remembers how sad she always was when she was pregnant with Amara, how the days spent in the cell being nibbled on by rats while she starved haunted her sleep throughout that period.She was not herself then, often lost in her thoughts thinking, swimming around in her anguish until it drowned her.But Amara was the light that the goddess sent to her darkness. Once she was born, it was as if alongside her, Leila also pushed out her sadness.Amara gave her hope, something to look forward to, something to live for.The tears push heavier against the blanket of he
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Leila backs up, ready for whatever is going to happen next. The four wolves growling menacingly at her, ready to strike at any time. She snarls, considering whether to shift and let her secret be known when these men see her wolf but that would mean she might have to kill them to kill them to protect it but she’s not even sure she can fight one of them and win, not to talk about four. Her heart pounds slowly in her chest, fear grating down her nerves even if she doesn’t show it as one of the wolves advances towards her slowly. He halts and they all turn to the right at the same time, seeing an off-roader drive towards them in full speed and before the car parks right between them, demarcating the wolves from her, the excitement of Leila’s wolf already tells her who it is, even before his smell comforts her. Tatum jumps out of the car and Leila frowns at the sight of him, feeling an instant uneasiness and discomfort deep in her gut from the way he looks. He has lost a lot of weight
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“What’s going on? Why are so many warriors going into people’s houses?” Leila asks, seeing for the umpteenth time how some pack warriors are harassing people outside their homes as they drive to the pack house. Tatum’s grip on the steering wheel tightens and he hisses, his eyes full of pain as he glances at Leila before looking straight ahead. “It’s Trent,” he says, punching the steering wheel lightly. “When he was sentenced for his crimes. As is customary, his assists were liquidated added to the pack treasury and most of it went into giving free shelter to the common folk of the pack but now he’s forcing them to pay rent, saying the pack can no longer afford to give them free homes and even those who already have their own homes now have to pay a compulsory property tax or risk eviction from their own homes.” Even if Tatum doesn’t say it, Leila can feel his pain and his helplessness, how much he wants to change things back to normal from the tone of his voice, the rage and bittern
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“Isn’t that too much food for one person?” Liana asks as Leila heaps the flask she has placed on the counter with porridge. “Is it?” Leila replies with a genuine voice of concern, “it’s just, he’s lost so much weight, I don’t think he’s eating well.” Liana sighs and goes over to her, placing a hand on the flask, “I don’t think food is the reason for that, a man’s mind controls everything, even his appetite. I’m sure it’s the other stuff getting to him.” “So what do I do?” “Exactly what you already are, being here for him,” she reaches for Leila’s arm and squeezes it gently, giving her a small smile. As if suddenly realising that her mom could also be in danger if she stays here, Leila’s countenance falls even further and she holds her mom this time around. “I think you should go live with grandma and be in her coven for a while. No one knows what Trent will do now that he’s the alpha and considering our history, I wouldn’t want you to be a victim of his cruelty, not again.” Li
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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
