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2026-04-01 05:52:24
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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 85
With as frequently as she reminded me, failing to recall that fact was an impossibility.Two moon-cycles had drifted by since Madeline and I had abandoned the pack’s formal rites to retreat to the Northern Glades with the rest of the sentinels—and Serena, of all she-wolves, in our shadow. When Madeline had first proposed the trek, I was certain she intended to use the isolation of the forest to finally decide if we would ever be more than mere pack-mates, but that trail had remained cold. I couldn't exactly fault her for her wariness after everything that had transpired, but by the Mother, the female must not have grasped how absolutely agonizing this state of limbo was for my beast.Or perhaps she understood perfectly. Perhaps she was dragging out the hunt to give me a taste of the suffering I had once inflicted on her. If that was the scent she was following, it was certainly hitting its mark.“Well, we could officially mark our bond again if—”“Now is not the season,” Madeline cut
ALPHAS of the PEAK 84
He let out a jagged breath and cut the flow of the wash, slowly dragging a pelt over his skin before sliding into a pair of breeches and retreating to the sleeping quarters. He hadn't bothered to ignite a torch, but the silver radiance of the moon spilling through the balcony archway provided enough light to navigate the chamber. However, as he pulled back the heavy furs and slipped between them, his instincts immediately flared—he wasn't alone in the den."Maddie?" he murmured, his voice thick with shock as he reached out to graze her shoulder. When his pads met the silk of her skin, Harrison knew his senses weren't playing tricks. It was truly her. "What are you doing in my territory?"She stirred at the low vibration of his voice, shifting so her spine was no longer toward him. She rolled onto her side, offering a hazy, soft smile from only inches away. While the sight of it made his heart hammer against his ribs, it was the sharp scent of the peat-mash on her breath that kept him
ALPHAS of the PEAK 70
“Here’s to hoping my hide stays intact.”Serena grimaced and gave my shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “Go get ’em, Alpha.”With one last look at my fake partner, I navigated the labyrinth of guests to the stone stairs that led to the basement. As I began my descent, I inhaled the heavy musk of ciga
ALPHAS of the PEAK 69
Noor Whitlock, Serena’s Grand-Alpha, was the undisputed matriarch of the silver-pelted lineage. The eighty-year-old wolf was the primary reason I’d gained ten pounds of muscle while bonded to Serena, mostly because the elder didn’t seem to grasp the concept of "no, thank you, my belly is full." The
ALPHAS of the PEAK 68
He had a short window to persuade Adrian to call off the arrangement, and if the hunt failed, the trail ended in darkness. Part of him was tempted to abandon the hunt, to return to Maddie and his true life and leave Serena to the mercy of the cages; it would have been the easy path. But without fai
ALPHAS of the PEAK 66
“That’s probably wise,” he conceded with a lazy grin, banking a sharp right toward my family’s estate. “You aren’t exactly the breed I track, anyway.”I arched a skeptical brow. I wasn't offended, but his past flirtations suggested a different hunger. “I'm not?”“Goddess, no. I mean, sure, you’re a
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