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CHAPTER 51 — The Second Heartbeat
Last Updated:
2026-02-17 20:20:58
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The Alpha’s Double Game CHAPTER 52 — Scent of Two
Jax noticed it before anyone else.He always did.Raya was standing at the long windows of the eastern hall when he stepped behind her, close enough for his breath to stir the loose strands of her hair. The estate was quiet; patrol rotations had shifted an hour earlier, and the tension from the incursion still lingered like smoke in the beams.He inhaled.Then stilled.Her scent had changed again.Not sharply. Not wrong. But layered.Alpha—undeniable, commanding, clean as cold iron. That part had always been there since the Trial. Since she survived what should have broken her.But beneath it now was something darker. Older. Not decay. Not corruption.Depth.Jax’s hand came to her waist slowly, possessively, as if testing whether she was still entirely solid beneath his palm. “Derek,” he said quietly.Derek entered without urgency, but his eyes sharpened the moment he crossed the threshold. He felt it too—though perhaps not as quickly as Jax had scented it.Raya turned toward them, br
The Alpha’s Double Game CHAPTER 51 — The Second Heartbeat
I did not sleep.I drifted.There is a difference.Sleep is surrender. Drift is vigilance disguised as rest.When I opened my eyes, it was still dark. The heavy velvet curtains muted the first suggestion of dawn, but I felt the hour in my bones. The estate was quiet in that charged way it becomes before movement begins—patrol shifts rotating, guards trading watch posts, warriors sharpening steel in silence.Derek’s arm was wrapped around my waist, solid and immovable even in sleep. Jax lay at my back, one forearm draped over my hip, his fingers curled loosely into the fabric of my shirt as if instinct refused to let me stray too far.Their body heat surrounded me.Grounded me.For a moment, everything felt steady.Then I heard it.A heartbeat.Not Derek’s. His was deep and measured beneath my palm.Not Jax’s. His rhythm was lighter, quicker, grazing the back of my spine.This one was inside me.A faint pulse, not aligned with mine.Not pregnancy. I knew the difference. This was not ne
The Alpha’s Double Game CHAPTER 50 — The First Incursion
They did not cross by accident.The eastern patrol reported movement just before dawn—three signatures cutting through river fog, disciplined spacing, no attempt to mask scent once they breached the shallows. That alone told me this was no test.It was a statement.By the time Derek, Jax, and I reached the ridge above the riverbank, the intruders had already moved ten kilometers inland. Fast. Purposeful. Not hunting.Mapping.The forest was quiet in that unnatural way it becomes when predators enter without panic. Birds stilled. Smaller animals withdrew. Even the wind seemed to hesitate between trees.“They want us to engage,” Jax said, crouching to examine disturbed soil. His fingers pressed into the earth, measuring stride depth. “They’re not hiding.”“No,” Derek agreed. “They’re pacing us.”I let my senses stretch outward, past bark and moss and damp stone. The rogue energy I had absorbed months ago responded faintly, like metal humming near a magnet. Recognition without allegiance
The Alpha’s Double Game CHAPTER 49 — Peace Is Temporary
Vienna liked to pretend it was neutral ground.It never was.The city had always been a crossroads of power—old money, older bloodlines, alliances stitched together with civility and sharpened underneath with threat. The council chamber stood beneath a renovated opera house, marble restored, chandeliers gleaming. Elegant. Controlled.And built for spectacle.We arrived together.Not as concession. Not as provocation. Simply as fact.The chamber doors opened to a semicircle of seated Alphas and envoys. France. Spain. Italy. Germany. Smaller Balkan representatives observing from the outer tier. Conversations dipped when we entered.Eyes followed.They were measuring.Derek walked at my left, steady and unreadable. Jax at my right, relaxed in a way that was never careless. I took the center position without hesitation.The invitation had been addressed to Alpha Montenegro.I answered it.Spain’s Alpha rose first. Tall, silver at the temples, posture impeccable. His smile held no warmth.
The Alpha’s Double Game CHAPTER 48 — Marked Land
The morning after the Run, the forest felt different.Not quieter. Not louder. Simply claimed.Wolves understand what paper cannot record. They had seen us move in rhythm beneath the full moon. They had heard the three-part howl roll across the valley and echo back without fracture. That memory would linger longer than any proclamation issued from the council chamber.But tradition demands more than memory.It demands marking.Montenegro’s borders stretch wide—mountain ridges in the north, river bends in the east, dense forest to the south, open valleys toward the west. Each section carries history. Some of it is ancient. Some of it soaked in blood.If we were to cement the next era, we would not do it from behind stone walls.We would walk it.Derek organized the route. Jax expanded security without making it visible. A small escort of trusted wolves would shadow at distance. No banners. No announcement.This was not a spectacle.It was an assertion.We began at the southern ridge,
The Alpha’s Double Game CHAPTER 47 — The Mating Run
The decision to formalize our bond was not romantic.It was strategic.That did not make it less sacred.In Montenegro, the Mating Run is older than council law. Older than borders. It predates written records, passed down through oral memory and scar tissue. An Alpha does not simply claim a mate. He runs with them beneath the moon, through pack territory, in full wolf form. If the bond holds under instinct—under chase, under terrain, under hunger—it is recognized as unbreakable.No ceremony inside stone walls can replicate that.Europe would be watching Vienna.But Montenegro would be watching us.Derek announced the Run at council with calm authority. No theatrics. No indulgence. A formal declaration entered into the pack record. The date set for the next full moon.There were no objections.If anything, there was relief.Tradition steadies wolves when politics shifts.Preparation began immediately.The Run is not a race. It is a test of synchronization. Three wolves must move as o
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