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Chapter Eleven
publish date:
2026-04-14 03:39:40
Latest chapter
I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate Forty Nine
AUTHOR’S POV.The heavy, armored tires of the Packhouse transport vehicle hummed a low, monotonous rhythm against the wet asphalt as Jordan rode in the spacious back seat, his mind still numb from the tedious diplomatic maneuvering of the Tri-Pack treaty. The sudden, violent vibration of his encrypted cell phone against his thigh shattered the tense silence of the cabin. A frantic text message flashed across the illuminated screen from an unsaved number, followed immediately by an incoming call.Jordan tapped the green icon and pressed the cold device to his ear, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "Speak.""Jordan, he is going to kill me," Emberly’s voice cracked over the speaker, her rapid, shallow breaths echoing the sound of someone currently drowning in a full-blown panic attack. "Beta Ronan just called me on an encrypted line. He told me that if I do not deliver actionable intelligence regarding your hidden activities by tomorrow night, he is going to personally unplug Grandma
I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate Forty Eight
JORDANThe heavy, suffocating smell of stale whiskey, expensive perfume, and dried sweat hung thickly in the stagnant air of the VIP residential suite when I finally opened my eyes. Sunlight sliced through the gap in the heavy blackout curtains, stabbing directly into my retinas and aggravating the dull, throbbing headache pounding behind my temples. Beta Ronan pushed the heavy wooden door open without bothering to knock, his massive combat boots stepping over the shredded remnants of emerald silk and crimson fabric littered across the plush carpet.Ronan checked the time on his heavy steel tactical watch, looking down at the massive king-sized mattress where the tall blonde and the sharp-jawed brunette remained tangled in the white sheets beside me. "The hotel administration is going to charge an absolute fortune to replace this ruined carpeting, Jordan," Ronan started the conversation, his voice laced with a casual, dry amusement as he surveyed the absolute destruction of the room
I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate Forty Seven
JORDANThe oppressive, suffocating heat of five hundred pureblood werewolves packing into the grand ballroom of the central estate created a physical wall of thick, unbreathable air that smelled heavily of expensive designer colognes masking the sharp, metallic tang of raw predatory dominance. Hundreds of massive crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting a blinding, fractured light over the opulent decorations and the endless sea of wealthy Alphas who traveled from across the country to parade their aristocratic children around the room. The entire event functioned as an incredibly expensive, high-profile meat market disguised as a diplomatic gala, designed specifically to spark powerful fated mate bonds or secure high-value political alliances between the ruling families. I was sitting near the front of the massive room at a lavish VIP table draped in heavy black velvet, shifting my broad shoulders uncomfortably against the restrictive, tailored fabric of my expen
I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate Forty Six
EMBERLYThe deadbolts on the cottage door clicked shut, sealing me inside the suffocating darkness of my living room. I did not even make it all the way down the narrow hallway before the biological punishment hit my nervous system. The lingering, suppressed fragments of my Heat flared up with a vicious, unyielding intensity, striking my bloodstream like a match dropped directly into a pool of gasoline. My skin burned with an unnatural, consuming fever that made the heavy fabric of my oversized hoodie feel like it was actively melting into my pores. My muscles ached with a deep, throbbing soreness, and my primal wolf clawed violently at the inside of my skull, actively punishing me for running away from my fated mate in the freezing arena. The magnetic pull of the mate bond demanded Jordan Draven’s physical presence with a raw, agonizing desperation that completely overrode my rational human mind.I stumbled blindly into my dark bedroom, my knees buckling as I collapsed heavily onto
I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate Forty Five
EMBERLYMy heavy textbook sat open on the small library desk, its dense pages detailing mid-century European pack economics. The bright screen of my laptop illuminated my tired face in the quiet study room. Just then, my encrypted burner phone suddenly vibrated violently against the wood, a harsh, metallic rattle that sent an immediate shockwave of adrenaline directly through my nervous system. I stared at the screen. The caller ID displayed an unknown string of numbers.Only two people in Junylria possessed this specific contact code.I hit the green button and pressed the plastic shell against my ear, my chest tightening beneath the restrictive binder. "Hello?""Good morning, Emberly," Beta Ronan spoke smoothly over the line, his voice thick with a fake, casual politeness that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. "It is a beautifully clear morning outside today, isn't it? I noticed the campus quad is entirely empty. Are you currently enjoying a quiet period in y
I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate Forty Four
AUTHOR’S POVMorning dew clung to the immaculate, perfectly manicured grass of the Northern Pack's premier golf resort. The crisp autumn air carried the scent of wet pine and blooming mountain heather. Victoria Ashford stood near the edge of the fifth green, holding a sleek titanium driver. A hundred yards away on the adjacent fairway, her father walked alongside a high-ranking Northern dignitary, their distant, booming laughter carrying across the quiet course. Their presence served as a constant, heavy reminder that Victoria’s every move, even during a casual morning round, remained under strict political surveillance.Her mother, Eleanor Ashford, stepped up to the wooden tee marker. She wore a pristine white visor and a tailored navy athletic skirt, completely unbothered by the chilly temperature."I believe I pushed Jordan entirely too far in the stadium bleachers," Victoria confessed quietly, keeping her voice low so it would not travel across the open grass. She pulled a wooden
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