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Chapter 128

Author: Big Queen
last update publish date: 2026-05-05 08:03:54

Vale grew into a wild, insatiable boy—the city’s smallest terror, half bluebell and half broken-glass. He learned to walk too fast, before nine months had passed, and Carolina caught him crawling the fire escape to bellow at the old market guards two stories below. At one year: his first word, “MINE.” At two: his first tooth, which he bit straight through the thumb of Damon, who foolishly tried to bribe him with candied algae and smirked about it even as he bled. The twins ran a betting pool on
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  • Alpha’s Forbidden Mate   Ch. 132

    It began, as most things did in this city, with laughter that didn’t sound quite right. Too hollow, too orchestrated, the kind that bounced off the buildings and made everyone look up at once. Carolina was passing the breakwall at dawn when she heard it, echoing off the old aqueduct. It was a crowd noise—bigger than a protest, rawer than a festival—swelling in a way that reminded her of old war archives, when the Market still employed a proper militia.At first, she thought the twins had gotten themselves neck-deep in something terminal again. But there they were, on the steps of the deferred-lending bank, handing out rationed honey rolls to every kid in sight and looking as innocent as church voice. She scanned the crowd. No Vale—he never showed this early. No bluebells either, though she could see the stems had been trampled by boots. There were more uniforms than usual, and not the friendly kind; these wore sashes in the colors of the old order, a parade of aging outcasts rebranded

  • Alpha’s Forbidden Mate   Ch. 131

    She named the year after a weed—Henbit, because it thrived unseen and everywhere, all its energy spent on breaking concrete. The first Henbit Summer, everything came to a head: the reformers and the old Market, the new kid politicos with their painted claws, the whispers of a return to monarchy, even the rumors of Valor, the absent father, waiting just across the border with his own kind of revenge. Mira called it the season of pollination, and Carolina suspected the city had never felt so pregnant with risk.She returned each day to the flat, expecting the worst: flowers torn up, Vale’s name recanted, the beginnings of another purge. Instead, a gentle rot. The old guard’s bluster eroded, and in its place, Vale and his pack grew more artful in their war. At night, the twins brought news of sabotage and spectacle, of Vale’s council work—he’d refused the office, meeting instead in alleys, rooftops, the cafeteria of the youngest city block under his hand. Sometimes they talked policy (fo

  • Alpha’s Forbidden Mate   Ch. 130

    He was thirteen when the city first put a wolf on the ballot. Not a literal wolf, though Vale’s face had acquired a certain lean, carnivorous cast, and his growing pack had made enough trouble—and enough charitable headlines—to be a force in the Market Blocks. The twins, both now with scars through their eyebrows which the stylists made them hide with makeup, presented the candidacy to Carolina over lunch.“You’re going to let him run?” she said, more amazed than affronted.Damon shrugged. “Council’s got three opening seats in the New Year. They’re seating the Underage contingent after last cycle’s PR disaster. It’s either Vale or one of the crypto-brats.”Devin said, “He’s polling even with the incumbent. They did an in-person on him—”“An in-person?”“Journalist. Real, from the old city. She followed him a week. Called him ‘a paradox in muddy sneakers.’”Carolina snorted, but she saw the way the twins watched her, waiting for the maternal reaction she could never quite muster. She f

  • Alpha’s Forbidden Mate   Ch. 129

    When Vale picked a fight at nine, it was against a Council boy four years his senior, a whisper-line aristocrat whose braces gleamed like gunmetal. The story hit the block before Carolina even heard about it. Unlike Valor, his father—who fought out of calculated necessity, a wolf with cold hands and colder eyes—Vale fought because nothing else in the city made sense. He didn’t fix the world with his fists; he punctuated it. He fought to prove the air was his and the day was made for running your opponent’s nose into the curb, even if you had to lose blood to get there.Carolina, chased down to the street by a panicked Mira (“I tried! I told him to count to ten, and he just growled!”), found the two boys tangled in gutter slush, limbs slippery and every punch direct. No biting: Vale’s one concession to her, though judging by the splatters, he’d considered it.By the time Carolina separated them, both kids were already swapping stories of their wounds, grinning through busted lips. Mira

  • Alpha’s Forbidden Mate   Chapter 128

    Vale grew into a wild, insatiable boy—the city’s smallest terror, half bluebell and half broken-glass. He learned to walk too fast, before nine months had passed, and Carolina caught him crawling the fire escape to bellow at the old market guards two stories below. At one year: his first word, “MINE.” At two: his first tooth, which he bit straight through the thumb of Damon, who foolishly tried to bribe him with candied algae and smirked about it even as he bled. The twins ran a betting pool on what age he’d first shift.He was always hungry. He ate anything that wouldn’t kill him instantly. Mira’s godmothering became less an honor and more a full-time job; she spent afternoons bribing shopkeepers and fencing pacifiers. At night, Vale watched the city with the sleepless, predatory patience only the born-lupine possessed.Xander left the city at the end of the third winter, called up to the airborne border squads with a handshake from the High Alpha herself. He packed his battered kit

  • Alpha’s Forbidden Mate   Ch. 127

    In the early weeks, the new thing inside her was loud. Not in sound, but in need. Salt smothered every craving; between bites of reclaimed toast she sucked bouillon cubes, drank brine from the olive vat, chased it with tongue-burning hot sauce when the world tasted flat. She loathed herself for the delicacy, but couldn’t smother it. The city in springtime went mad and drunk as always, but Carolina moved through it slowed, as if underwater, the bluebell haze making her scalp itch. The twins took to trailing her like personal security, out of a mix of loyalty and raw curiosity. They gleefully debated the genetic fate of her spawn over breakfast—Would it be pack or lone, wolf or “just stubborn as hell?”—and taught Carolina’s stomach how to flip with every deadpan declaration. Late at night, Mira came around, always with bags under her eyes and a file full of rumors to share. She never said “baby” or “pregnant,” as if naming it stole some of the weird magic from the air, but sometimes s

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