I want to please you, Ryder.

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• The Triplet Alpha's Outcast    The Eve of Battle

  Amara's POV The moonlight, a silent, ethereal presence, spilled through the tall, uncurtained glass windows of the triplets' shared bedroom, painting the dark wood floor with shifting patterns of silver and shadow. The room, usually filled with the vibrant energy of three powerful Alphas, held a profound stillness, a hushed anticipation that mirrored the anxious flutter in my own chest. I stood by the window, arms wrapped tightly around myself, not from the chill of the night, but from the immense weight of tomorrow. I watched the ancient trees sway rhythmically in the gentle breeze, their shadows dancing like silent specters. Tomorrow, I would face Killian in front of the entire pack. Tomorrow, I’d either prove I deserved this hard-won title, prove my strength and worth, or risk losing everything I had just begun to call mine—my place, my mates, my very identity as Luna. The stakes felt impossibly high. A quiet rustle behind me, the softest sound of fabric against skin, signaled

• The Triplet Alpha's Outcast    It’s all in the hips, Luna. And a healthy dose of sass.

  Amara's POV “You’re powerful, Amara,” he murmured, his breath warm at my ear, sending shivers down my spine despite my exertion. “But raw power, untempered by precision, can be wasted. Precision makes power lethal. It turns a strong punch into a knockout blow. It turns a simple block into a disarming maneuver.” His hands moved along my arms, guiding my blocks, adjusting my grip for a throw. “Let me help you make it deadly,” he finished, his voice a low, seductive promise. We practiced throws, intricate grappling techniques, joint locks that seemed impossible, and, crucially, breath control—a calm core in the storm of combat. Caden was patient, unyielding in his expectations, and his sharp eyes saw every subtle flaw, every almost-perfect movement. He drilled me relentlessly, forcing me to internalize the techniques until they were instinctive, until they flowed like water. He wasn’t just training me to win a fight. He was preparing me to survive. To overcome. To emerge victorio

• The Triplet Alpha's Outcast    You’re not the girl he remembers, Luna!

  Amara's POV The scent of damp earth, pine, and the sharp tang of sweat hung heavy in the air. The combat grounds were a secluded haven, hidden deep within the ancient, whispering woods—a clearing carved out by the triplets years ago for their brutal war games, their grueling pack trials, and their most private Alpha training sessions. Today, however, the arena was mine. Every scuff mark on the packed dirt, every worn grip on the hanging ropes, felt infused with purpose. And I was preparing. Preparing for the moment I would finally silence the boy who once made me feel like nothing, who had whispered doubts into my ears until they became a roar. “Start with me,” Jaxon rumbled, stepping forward into the center of the clearing, his powerful frame radiating an almost palpable aura of raw strength. He wore only combat trousers, his magnificent torso bare, rippling with muscle. I nodded, rolling my shoulders back, feeling the familiar pull of power warming my blood, a subtle hum be

• The Triplet Alpha's Outcast    Let him dig his own grave.

  Amara's POV A collective gasp echoed from nearby warriors and pack members who had been drawn by the rising tension, the ominous presence of an unknown rogue. Tension rippled through the entire courtyard, vibrating in the still evening air, as the weight of his challenge settled upon us. A direct challenge to the Luna’s worthiness was almost unheard of, a grave insult, a blatant disregard for tradition and rank. “What are you doing, Killian?” I asked, my voice surprisingly calm despite the fire that now burned fiercely in my chest. My wolf, usually content to be an inner presence, was now pacing, a restless, powerful entity demanding release. He smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “It’s simple, Amara. The Luna mark… it binds you to power. To the Alphas. But what if you stole it? Manipulated them into choosing you? Convinced them you were something you’re not? You were always good at hiding behind others, weren’t you? Always playing the victim. I want the pack to see if you t

• The Triplet Alpha's Outcast    A Ghost from the Past: Killian's Challenge

  Amara's POV The sky had just begun its nightly transformation, bleeding from a vivid sapphire into a smoldering tapestry of gold, orange, and fiery crimson. The usual evening sounds of the pack settling in—the distant barks of pups, the low hum of conversation from the kitchens—were suddenly obliterated by a sharp, acrid scent that assaulted my senses. Smoke. Metal. And something else, something sharp and sour, a distinctly metallic tang that made my wolf, usually calm and centered within me, lift her head, her hackles rising, and emit a low, guttural growl deep in my chest. It was a scent of disruption, of ancient, unsettling malice. I stepped out onto the cool, polished stone path of the front courtyard, drawn by an instinct as old as the pack itself. The triplets were only a few steps behind me, their presences a formidable, grounding force. Caden was already a statue of alertness, his body stiff, every muscle coiled, his senses extended. Jaxon’s eyes, usually a warm dark brow

• The Triplet Alpha's Outcast    A Dance of Power and Playfulness.

  Amara's POV The late morning air was crisp and invigorated, carrying the deep, clean scent of pine from the surrounding forest, mingled with the earthy aroma of sun-warmed stone. It was a perfect day, mirroring the quiet contentment that had settled within me after our intimate kitchen breakfast. We stepped onto the private training grounds, a sprawling, secluded area hidden behind the mansion, surrounded by ancient, towering trees that seemed to stand as silent guardians. It was peaceful out here—no bustling pack members, no curious gazes, no judgmental eyes. Just the four of us, and the palpable, low hum of energy that constantly vibrated between our connected bonds, a symphony unique to us. I began pulling my hair into a high, practical ponytail, securing it with a leather tie. My muscles already felt eager, twitching with anticipation. “Don’t go easy on me,” I warned, my voice firm, laced with a playful challenge as I met each of their gazes. My tone left no room for debate.