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Chapter Thirteen
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2026-04-17 02:06:58
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I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate Fifty Two
AUTHOR’S POVMidnight settled heavily over the subterranean interrogation cells deep beneath the Southern Packhouse, and ti brought with it a thick, stagnant silence broken only by the rhythmic dripping of condensed moisture from the concrete ceiling. Silas was sagged against the damp stone wall, his breathing a shallow, wet rattle in his chest. His body was entirely broken, systematically dismantled by Alpha Magnus over three agonizing days. His ribs were shattered, his skin hung in raw, blistered strips from the silver burns, and his mental blocks were rapidly fading into a dark, foggy delirium. He knew with absolute certainty that if he survived until the morning execution, Magnus would crack his mind completely and extract the exact coordinates of Amberly Lynne's hiding place.Silas shifted his weight, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to suppress a groan of pure agony. He reached beneath the filthy, blood-soaked rags covering his lap, his mangled fingers gripping the
I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate Fifty One
EMBERLY I got a message that evening that Mrs. Alder was awake. Despite how shitty I felt after the meeting with Mr. Vance, I went there once I woke up the next day, walking through the sliding glass doors of the pack hospital the following morning, my shoulders braced tightly in anticipation of a physical altercation with the heavily armed elite guards stationed outside the intensive care unit.I expected them to block my path and demand immediate authorization from Beta Ronan. To my absolute shock, the two massive enforcers standing near the doorway simply took a synchronized step backward and calmly signaled me through the heavy wooden door without requesting a single piece of identification. A sharp, burning spike of internalized suspicion immediately flared in the back of my mind. I knew this unprecedented leniency was the direct, calculated result of Alpha Magnus's sick political strategy from a few days prior. The Alpha had explicitly ordered his medical team to stabilize Gr
I Faked Being a Boy, Now the Alpha is my Mate Fifty
AUTHOR’S POV.The tinted windows of Victoria Ashford’s sleek, silver sports car provided the perfect, undetectable vantage point from her parking space alongside the sprawling university quad. She leaned back against the plush leather seat, her manicured fingers tapping a slow, calculated rhythm against the steering wheel as she watched the morning crowd of students filter past the brick buildings. Her piercing blue eyes were not scanning for simple collegiate drama; they were locked directly onto Jordan Draven and the scrawny academic supervisor walking toward the central science hall.Victoria was not acting out of petty, romantic jealousy. She was a politically groomed daughter of the Northern Council, and she was currently analyzing a highly volatile, active threat to her future throne. She watched the subtle, terrifying shifts in their body language. Following the violent altercation in the stadium bleachers and the subsequent, aggressive hockey scrimmage, Emberly’s posture ar
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
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