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The Alpha’s Claim
Last Updated:
2025-11-06 03:13:56
S.A AkinolaThanks for reading! The tension between Lyra and Cain is only getting sharper—he’s claiming her, she’s fighting it, and the truth she’s hiding won’t stay buried for long. If you’re enjoying the enemies-to-lovers pull, the dark bond, and the danger: Add this book to your Library & leave a comment! It helps the story grow and keeps updates coming. Question: Do you think Cain is starting to care, or is it just control? Tell me in the comments. If you love dark fated mates, broken heroines, dangerous Alphas, secrets, curses, and slow-burn obsession, you’re in the right story. Tap ⭐ Add to Library, join the pack, and keep reading. The bond is only getting stronger. The truth is coming. And when it breaks, so will someone’s world. — S.A. Akinola
Latest chapter
Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me Manufactured Gravity
CAINThe courier is detained at noon.Not quietly.Not efficiently.Deliberately visible.Central transit square.Midday foot traffic.Cameras active.Guards in full insignia.The message isn’t about the man.It’s about reminding the city who can be taken.The charge is vague.“Interference with stabilization logistics.”Which means nothing.Which means everything.“They’re forcing a focal point,” Lyra says.“Yes.”“They expect fear.”“Yes.”“And silence.”“Yes.”They will get neither.LYRAThe Hollow does not stir.Good.This is human territory.Human consequence.People stop walking.Not in unison.Not dramatically.Incrementally.A woman drops a crate.No one tells her to move.A vendor closes a shutter halfway.Not all the way.Just enough.Micro-resistance.The guards tighten formation.They were trained for crowds.Not for hesitation.CAINThe courier does not scream.That matters.He asks a question instead.“What did I do?”No answer.They bind his hands.They don’t strike him
Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me Pressure Geometry
CAINPressure is not applied evenly.It’s shaped.Council strategy becomes visible through omission rather than decree.Transit permits delayed selectively.Medical supply reroutes.Water allocation audits.No announcement.No justification.Localized inconvenience designed to produce complaint clusters.Clusters reveal organizers.It’s efficient.Not subtle.“They’re switching to economic pressure,” I tell Lyra.She nods.“Because fear-based enforcement didn’t produce collapse.”“Yes.”“They’re testing discomfort thresholds.”“Yes.”LYRARiver district reports food variance.Not shortages.Inconsistency.Which produces trade improvisation.Which builds new routes.Which bypass official channels.Unintended outcome.I log it mentally.The Hollow does not react.Still good.CAINCouncil leak reaches us intentionally.Not through official channels.Through a mid-tier clerk who wants insulation later.Emergency Charter draft.Temporary authority expansion.Asset seizure language.Framed
Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me Lines in Motion
CAINMorning produces data.Not clarity.Not resolution.Numbers.District usage reports.Transit anomalies.Supply lag.Guard rotation gaps.Patterns that do not scream rebellion—but sketch its outline.“Three depots offline,” a runner reports.“Locked or destroyed?”“Locked.”Good.Locked means intention without spectacle.Lyra stands beside the table, arms loose at her sides, eyes moving across the crude map.“Where are they concentrating?”“Southern trade belt. River quarter. Lower academy ring.”I mark each with charcoal.No single center.No hierarchy.“They’re building redundancy,” I say. “If one pocket collapses, others persist.”Lyra nods.“They’re preparing for attrition.”LYRAThe Hollow remains present.Not pushing.Not guiding.Simply there.Which is preferable.I don’t consult it.I don’t reach for it.I observe effects.People with black thread move supplies quietly between alleys.Small groups meet, disperse, reform elsewhere.No chants.No banners.Coordination withou
Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me The Shape of a Side
CAINThe city stops pretending neutrality exists.It doesn’t declare war.It doesn’t announce a crackdown.It does something far more dangerous.It lets people choose.By morning, the registration arches from yesterday are still standing—but fewer people are using them. Some districts maintain long lines. Others leave the platforms empty, untouched, guarded by volunteers who look increasingly uncertain about what they’re guarding.“They’re tracking patterns,” I murmur.Lyra nods. “They’re mapping disobedience.”The Hollow hums low.Not afraid.Alert.LYRAI feel the split before I see it.Not a tear.A drift.Two conversations in the same street moving in opposite directions.One cluster whispers about safety. About order. About keeping things from getting worse.Another cluster whispers about remembering. About asking questions. About what they felt when I spoke.Neither side sounds violent.That’s what frightens me.Violence is honest.This is ideological.“They’re becoming identiti
Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me When Silence Becomes Weapon
LYRAThe city waits.Not quietly. Not submissively.It waits with edges sharpened, eyes alert, whispers sharpened into blades. The Hollow hums low, almost a growl beneath the skin of the streets, feeling the ripple we left behind.“They’re recalibrating,” I murmur as we pass a cluster of citizens inspecting one another with calculated glances. “Every action has a new meaning now.”Cain nods. “Every hesitation is a question. Every silence—an accusation.”The streets are populated with watchful ghosts, invisible until their attention falls on you. And now it falls. Often. On us.CAINAuthority, stripped of ceremony, now feels like a rumor. People don’t look at me with obedience—they test me. Measure me. Not openly hostile, not openly loyal. Suspended between respect and curiosity.A guard meets my gaze at a checkpoint. He tilts his head, uncertain. Behind him, another mirrors it. Chain reaction. I smile faintly—grimly. A test, but one we didn’t ask for.“They’re seeing if I falter,” I m
Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me What Answers Demand in Return
CAINThe city answers faster than I expect.Not with force.With structure.By dawn, the symbols from yesterday have been standardized. Chalk replaced with stamped sigils. Ribbons replaced with sanctioned bands bearing civic marks. What was once voluntary alignment has been codified into expectation.Fear has been given uniforms.“They moved quickly,” Lyra murmurs beside me as we watch a line of citizens queue at a registration arch erected overnight.“Yes,” I reply. “They always do once blood is involved.”LYRAThe Hollow is restless.Not raging—calculating.It brushes against the city’s new scaffolding and recoils, not because it’s blocked, but because it recognizes the intent behind it.Containment disguised as care.“They’re asking people to declare,” I say quietly. “Not allegiance. Perspective.”Cain’s mouth tightens. “Which is worse.”CAINThe notice reaches us midmorning.Public this time.Not naming Lyra.Naming me.ALPHA BLOODVEIL REQUESTED TO AFFIRM STABILIZATION ROLE.Not s
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