All Chapters of The Triplet Alpha's Outcast : Chapter 201 - Chapter 210

Amara's POV The moon was a silent, silver eye in the inky sky by the time I finally returned to the pack house. My body felt like a lead weight, each step a struggle against the invisible current of exhaustion that pulled at me. Logic dictated I should collapse onto my bed, surrender to the oblivion of sleep after the whirlwind of a day. But my restless limbs refused to obey, and my heart, a frantic drum against my ribs, pulsed with an agitation that defied repose. I found myself drifting, almost unknowingly, towards the training arena. Usually, at this hour, it would be deserted, the lingering scent of sweat and effort the only testament to the day’s activities. Tonight was no different. The vast space was steeped in silence, broken only by the soft, rhythmic echo of my own footsteps against the cool stone floor. It was a peculiar kind of quiet, one that amplified the turmoil within me rather than soothing it. And then I saw him. Caden.“Caden…” The single word was a plea, a

Ryder's POV The training hall, usually a crucible of raw power and disciplined fury, felt like a mausoleum tonight, echoing with the ghosts we all carried. Every shadow seemed to hold a memory, every whisper of the wind a silent accusation. I leaned against the pillar closest to the deepest gloom, a silent sentinel, my gaze fixed on the churning vortex of my brothers’ unspoken turmoil. Jaxon, typically a mountain of immovable resolve, was a caged beast tonight, his restless pacing wearing a groove into the already scarred stone floor. Each agitated stride was a testament to the storm raging within him. Caden, usually the calm eye of any hurricane, was hunched on a nearby bench, his shoulders stiff, his hands clasped so tightly between his knees that his knuckles were bone-white. The air between us was a live wire, humming with a tension so sharp it could cut, dangerous in its potency. It had been building for days, a slow, inexorable pressure that promised to shatter us all. No, n

Amara's POV The sacred clearing was alive, pulsating with an ethereal glow, bathed in the gentle luminescence of countless lanterns and the incandescent wash of the full moon. The air hummed with a tangible energy, the very trees whispering with a hush that felt less like wind and more like reverence, as if holding their breath for the sacred ceremony. The pack had gathered in a wide, unbroken circle, a silent, expectant ring of faces, their eyes reflecting the shimmering light, forming a protective, watchful barrier around the ancient Moonstone Altar. It gleamed in the center, a monumental slab of polished white stone, worn smooth from centuries of rituals, of vows made and bonds forged. I stood beneath the majestic full moon, its powerful light a beacon, my heart pounding a frantic, primal drum against my ribs, each beat echoing the tumultuous symphony within me. Three distinct heartbeats answered mine—familiar, chaotic, yet surprisingly steady, like the undeniable pull of gravit

Amara's POV The mansion was swathed in a profound silence, bathed in the soft, golden glow of strategically placed lamps and the hushed reverence that always followed moments of immense significance. The Binding Ceremony had concluded hours ago, yet its powerful echo still resonated within me, a subtle thrumming beneath my skin, wrapping around me like invisible threads of fate. I stood by the window in one of the upper rooms, a chamber more luxurious and intimately appointed than any I had ever occupied, gazing out over the moonlit forest. The ceremonial gown I still wore, despite the late hour, shimmered faintly in the dim light, its silver embroidery catching the elusive moonlight. Though cloaked in silk and intricate patterns, I felt utterly bare, exposed. Yet, paradoxically, I also felt a profound sense of completeness. An integration of self I hadn't known was possible. Behind me, the soft creak of the door opening broke the stillness, but I didn't turn. I didn’t have to. I

Amara's POV And I couldn't take it. The slow, agonizing, delicious torture was pushing me to the brink. I needed more. I reached behind me, my fingers tangling in the thick hair on Jaxon's thigh, pulling him closer still, my back arching into his relentless pressure. He let out a low curse, a guttural sound of pure pleasure, and his hands, powerful and impatient, slipped beneath the lace of my panties, discarding the flimsy barrier. His fingers were hot, seeking, finding my aching core. When I moaned, a raw sound of pure bliss, Ryder's eyes, dark with desire, met mine. His breath was coming in ragged gasps, his jaw tight. “Tell us what you want, Luna,” he demanded, his voice low and strained, thick with urgency. “You,” I said, breathless, barely able to form the word. “I want all of you. Every touch. Every kiss. Every part of this bond.” Ryder’s gaze never left mine as he reached down, gripping himself, his arousal a testament to his own intense need. His eyes were hooded