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CHAPTER 93: THE WITCH HUNT
Tanggal publikasi:
2026-07-08 22:13:44
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Marked by My Alpha's Father CHAPTER 115: OVERWRITING THE VESSEL
The slant of amber light from the high solar cut through the subterranean dark like a physical blade. Elena squinted through the blinding glare, her boots skidding on the cold granite as she tracked the massive, three-hundred-foot drop between the First Queen's murals and the royal altar above. Beside her, Marcus didn't rage. He stood rigid, his head tilted back, his eyes locked onto the distant silhouette of King Alaric. The silver veins beneath Marcus’s collarbone were no longer humming; they were screaming, pulsing a violent, radiant violet that bled through the fabric of his vest. "Look at the mechanism of the opening, Elena," Marcus whispered, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that barely carried through the grinding of the iron gears. "The ceiling didn't just open. The entire foundation is built around an alignment loop. The altar above sits directly over the center of the First Queen’s vault." Elena didn't look at the gears. Her eyes were fixed on a small, bronze-bound ledge
Marked by My Alpha's Father CHAPTER 114: THE FIRST QUEEN
The air beneath the Citadel didn't circulate; it stagnated inside a cold, geometric labyrinth of black basalt that smelled of wet slate and old bone. Elena led the way, her fingers brushing along the damp, close-set masonry of the lower foundation tunnels. Behind her, Marcus moved like a wounded predator. His breathing was heavy, a ragged, wet sound that rattled in the narrow corridor. The silver veins beneath his collarbone were glowing an intense, volatile violet now, casting sharp, skeletal shadows against the dark stone walls. "The tunnel is widening," Elena whispered, her voice pitched so low it was almost lost to the dripping water. "Look at the tooling marks on the granite, Marcus. This isn't Capital construction. The stones aren't held together by modern mortar. They're locked by weight alone." Marcus stopped, leaning his heavy shoulder against the rough wall to steady himself. He pressed a hand over his chest, his jaw grinding as a visible spasm of pain shot through his
Marked by My Alpha's Father CHAPTER 113: CATTLE PRESERVATION
The High Solar did not smell like a royal chamber; it smelled of cold rain, crushed charcoal, and the dry, iron tang of an old vault. Devon stood in the center of the vast expanse of black volcanic glass, his hands bound by heavy steel cuffs that dragged down his wrists. He did not look at the four Royal Guards standing at his flank with ready execution spears. He kept his eyes fixed on the man sitting behind the petrified white wood table. King Alaric was turning a small silver stylus over his knuckles with a practiced tilt. He wore no crown, but the pale, fog-choked morning light spilling through the floor-to-ceiling glass outlined his thin, ancient silhouette, making him look like an unyielding shadow cast against the grey sky. "You have Beta Thomas's broad shoulders, Devon," Alaric said, his voice a conversational whisper that carried clearly across the silent room without effort. " But, you behave like Marcus, he always did occupy a great deal of physical space before he spok
Marked by My Alpha's Father CHAPTER 112: THE BODYGUARD TWIST
The stone gallery outside the council chamber was dark, cold, and smelled of rising river damp. Marcus didn't slow his pace until they were deep within the shadows of the western colonnade, far from the echoes of the Elders' gavels. He slammed his palms flat against a granite pillar, his head dropping between his broad shoulders as his chest heaved in ragged, heavy intervals. Beneath his tunic, the silver veins were throbbing, a malicious pulse that seemed to mirror the heavy thrumming of the Citadel’s deep foundations. "Marcus," Elena said, stepping into his space. She didn't touch him—she could feel the volatile, static heat radiating off his skin, a warning sign that his inner wolf was straining against its human leash. "We have to look at the paperwork Camille brought out. The dates on the asset sheets don't match the official ledger of the Winter Ward." Marcus didn't look up, but his jaw tightened until the bone looked sharp enough to cut leather. "The dates are exactly whe
Marked by My Alpha's Father CHAPTER 111: RAYMOND'S TRUE PRICE
The High Council chamber was built like an amphitheater for an execution. Tiered benches of dark, polished basalt rose up toward the vaulted stone ceiling, filled with the severe, black-robed figures of the High Elders. Below them, in the central well of the chamber, the air was cold and smelled heavily of melted tallow and old ink. Elena stood beside Marcus, her chin held high as she donned her father's old aristocratic mask. Her hands were folded behind her back, her fingers tightly gripping Raymond's gold signet ring to stop them from trembling. Marcus stood like a stone monolith at her flank, his eyes fixed on the empty throne of petrified white wood at the apex of the room. To their right, Camille stood behind the advocate's podium, her hands resting flat against a mountain of legal ledgers. "The registry is clear, Camille," the Lead Elder announced, his voice booming down from the top tier like a falling rock. He was a frail, ancient man whose skin looked like yellowed vel
Marked by My Alpha's Father CHAPTER 110 — CAMILLE'S REVELATION
The humming beneath the citadel didn't stop. Elena could still feel it through the floor beneath her boots, a low vibration that seemed to travel through every wall of the western suite. Then, three knocks echoed through the western suite. A moment later, the door swung inward with a slow, deliberate weight that was far more dangerous. Elena rose from the cedar desk, her hand instantly dropping to the hilt of her boot knife. Marcus stepped forward, his massive frame shifting smoothly between the doorway and the table where the shadow books lay open. His eyes narrowed, the silver veins along his collarbone tightening into hard, rigid cords beneath his tunic. Standing in the threshold, framed by the cold morning light of the gallery, was Camille. She wore no traveling cloak, no heavy winter furs, and no armor. She wore the sharp, severe midnight-blue tailoring of a High Council advocate, her silver-threaded hair pulled back into a flawless knot. Her posture was completely straight
Marked by My Alpha's Father CHAPTER 4: THE WOUNDED TYRANT
The sound of Marcus’s roar sent a physical shockwave rattling through the stone corridor. Elena’s wolf dropped to its knees in submissive terror, but Devon gripped her shoulder firmly, his eyes wild with determination. "We have to move, now," Devon hissed, dragging her out of the shadow of the alc
Marked by My Alpha's Father CHAPTER 3: THE TYRANT'S THRONEROOM
The Grand Hall was filled with the chaos of noise, crackling firelight, and the rich scent of roasted meat. Hundreds of Silver Ridge pack members sat at long wooden tables, drinking dark ale and shouting over the din. But the moment the heavy oak doors groaned open, the entire room fell silent. El
Marked by My Alpha's Father CHAPTER 2: BIOLOGICAL BETRAYAL
Elena woke with a violent gasp, her hand instantly flying to her left shoulder. Her mind raced back to the sanctuary—the suffocating pressure of a tyrant's aura, the predatory glint in Marcus’s eyes, and the terrifying moment his fated fangs had ripped into her throat. She wasn't in the cold sto
Marked by My Alpha's Father PROLOGUE
The air at the northern border was freezing, thick with the stench of blood and churned mud. Alpha Marcus Vance stood atop a snow-dusted hill, looking down at the smoking ruins of a rogue camp. He wiped dark blood from his blade, his breath escaping heavily. The biting wind ripped through his heavy
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