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2026-03-28 00:49:46
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ALPHAS of the PEAK 91
"You’re walking into a slaughter, Harrison, and you’re taking half the territory with you."I slammed my palms onto the stone map table in the war room. The vibration rattled the loose cartridges of a sidearm resting near the edge. Harrison didn't look up from the canyon topography. He smelled of woodsmoke, heated copper, and a sharp, jagged edge of desperation."He’s my father, Madeline," Harrison said. He traced a finger along the narrow pass of the Whispering Canyons. "The Council’s heralds confirmed the location. Adrian Whitlock is holding Richard in the basin. If I don't move now, they’ll have his head on a pike by sunrise.""The Council’s heralds are liars who smell of rotted lilies," I said. I stepped around the table, my boots clicking against the floorboards. I grabbed his arm, feeling the braided steel of his muscles beneath his leather jacket. "Adrian is a butcher. He doesn't leave trails unless he wants them followed. This isn't a rescue. It’s a culling."Harrison pulled a
ALPHAS of the PEAK 90
"You shouldn't have brought that stench back into this house, Madeline."Harrison stood in the center of the Great Hall, his boots crunching on the glass shards from the shattered transom. The scent of woodsmoke and heated copper was jagged now, clashing with the lingering frost on my skin. He didn't move to touch me. He paced the length of the rug, his muscles corded under his shirt like thick cables. The frequency in the room was a low, discordant thrum that vibrated in my teeth."The Shadow-Pack didn't give me a choice," I said.I dropped the leather satchel onto the heavy oak table. It landed with a wet thud. The gold heart inside was cooling, but it still radiated a faint, rhythmic heat that made the air shimmer. I wiped a streak of frozen stag's blood from my cheek, my fingers trembling. The grit under my fingernails scraped against my skin."They called you High Queen," Harrison said. He stopped his pacing and turned, his amber eyes glowing with a sharp, predatory light. "The s
ALPHAS of the PEAK 89
"Drop the knife, Madeline, or the mountain will be the only thing that remembers you."Vivienne Cruz didn't turn around to see if I followed. She walked into the shimmering heat of the Maw, her silk dress rippling like a secondary skin. The air in the cavern tasted of sulfur and ancient, unwashed fur. It wasn't a cave; it was a throat. The stone walls were slick with a moisture that smelled of ozone and old blood. I gripped the gold scroll against my ribs, the metal humming a low, jagged frequency that vibrated through my teeth."I’m not dropping anything," I said.My voice bounced off the jagged stalactites. I stepped over a pile of bleached bones—small things, foxes or pups. A crackle of white fire erupted from a fissure in the floor, the heat singeing the hair on my forearms. I didn't flinch. The wolf in my marrow was silent, pinned down by the sheer weight of the mountain's power."The Forbidden Tundra," Vivienne said, gesturing to a swirling vortex of white mist at the back of th
ALPHAS of the PEAK 88
"Is it the poison or your conscience making you look so pale, Serena?"I leaned against the stone doorframe of the infirmary, my ribcage a cage of fire. The scent of jasmine still clung to the back of my throat, but it was the bitter almond of the wolfsbane that defined the air. Serena Whitlock didn't turn around. She was busy grinding herbs into a stone mortar, the rhythmic scritch-scritch of the pestle the only sound in the room. She smelled of sterile gauze and dried lavender. A mask for the rot."You should be dead," Serena said. She didn't look up from her work. A stray strand of hair escaped her clinical bun, damp with the humidity of the room. "My father doesn't usually miss.""He sent Nadia to finish it," I said. I stepped into the room, my legs feeling like they were made of cooling glass. I reached for a glass vial on the table, my fingers brushing against a stained tunic draped over the chair. The fabric was stiff with old, brown blood. "She failed too."Serena’s hand falte
ALPHAS of the PEAK 87
"Don’t choke on the water, Madeline. It would be a rather pathetic end to such a storied bloodline."Adrian Whitlock sat on a folding chair at the edge of the training circle, his silver-headed cane resting against his sharp knee. He smelled of antiseptic and old leather. A butcher in a scholar’s coat. I spit a mouthful of blood onto the packed dirt and wiped my mouth with the back of a bruised hand. My knuckles were raw, the skin split and weeping."I'm not finished," I said."Your heart is hammering like a trapped bird," Adrian replied. He didn't look at me. He looked at the stopwatch in his hand. "Frequency is high. High and erratic. It lacks the steady thrum of a true Luna. But then, we always knew you were a defect, didn't we?"I lunged at the training dummy, a heavy thing of canvas and sand. I kicked, my shin connecting with a dull thud that sent a vibration straight into my marrow. Bone on bone. The sand leaked from a small tear in the side, gritting the floor."Again," Adrian
ALPHAS of the PEAK 86
"You’re here to take what exactly? Because my patience isn't on the guest list."I stood at the top of the Great Hall’s staircase, my fingers digging into the polished mahogany railing until the wood groaned. The air in Cole Manor had turned to static. It tasted of old parchment and cold iron—the distinct, suffocating scent of the Council of Twelve.The man standing on the black marble foyer didn't look up immediately. He adjusted his white silk gloves, the silver embroidery of a crescent moon shimmering on his cuffs. He smelled of ozone and rotted lilies. Deceit."Madeline," the Herald said. His voice was a thin rasp, like dry leaves skittering over a grave. "The Council does not take. It merely corrects."Harrison moved before I could breathe. He didn't walk; he stalked. The floorboards vibrated under the weight of an Alpha’s fury. He stopped inches from the Herald, his silhouette dwarfing the messenger. The scent of woodsmoke and heated copper—Harrison’s scent—flooded the room, war
ALPHAS of the PEAK 79
This time, as she sought to break her gaze and retreat, I clamped my fingers around her forearm. “I am speaking with a true tongue, Serena. I’m testing this fresh path where I offer grace to those who have acted like complete curs toward me. And listen, if I can find it in my spirit to grant peace
ALPHAS of the PEAK 78
Speak for your own bloodline," Grant grunted, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rumble. "My sire and dam made it clear they’d only acknowledge my achievements once I’d claimed a Master’s rank in the High Council. They certainly aren't scenting the air in that crowd today.""You see?" I said,
ALPHAS of the PEAK 77
So Madeline watched him stalk out of the den, distancing himself from her and the gravity of his confession, too paralyzed to shift or speak.What in the name of the Great Mother?No, truly. What the actual hell? Did he honestly believe he could drop a soul-shredding revelation like that and just v
ALPHAS of the PEAK 75
I shoved past him, my paws clicking against the stone steps of the porch. I had no intention of calling upon him for a single thing. In my mind, he was as cold and dead as Harrison, and I doubted the seasons would change that. Behind me, Harrison howled my name one last time, a desperate, broken so
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