Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Lycan Prince's Blood : Kabanata 81 - Kabanata 90

Lowell suddenly feels it — a sharp pull deep inside his chest, like something is slipping from his grasp. His breath catches. His heart pounds in confusion. He glances at Nathan, his voice urgent and low.“We have to leave. Now.”Nathan doesn’t question it. He only nods, his eyes filled with concern. He turns to the Alphas and Betas still gathered around the long table.“My apologies… we need to leave,” Nathan says quickly, bowing his head.The men nod in understanding, sensing something serious. Lowell doesn’t waste another second. He strides out, his pace hurried but controlled. Nathan matches his steps.As soon as they are seated in the car, Lowell grips the steering wheel tightly. His hands tremble. He stares straight ahead, his thoughts racing.“I can’t feel her,” he mutters, more to himself than to Nathan.Nathan looks at him sharply.“You mean Nana?”Lowell nods, his voice breaking. “Her… her presence is faint. I can’t feel Lana either. Something’s wrong.”Nathan doesn’t speak.

Six months LaterThe sun is bright over NorthHill Pack, its rays falling gently on the grand hall decorated in silver and royal blue — the colors of strength and loyalty. The air carries the scent of fresh roses and burning sage, a tradition to invite blessings. Warriors stand at attention, families gather, and elders sit with approving smiles.Lowell stands tall at the center, his face calm but his chest swelling with quiet pride. His eyes never leave Nana. She sits beside him, her long dark hair cascading down her back, her frame still fragile but her spirit strong. Her gown is simple but elegant, flowing white silk with silver embroidery around the edges. Her hands rest carefully in her lap. Every movement she makes is cautious. She is still healing. But her eyes shine.Felicia holds the young Lycan Prince in her arms, gently rocking him as he stirs. Her face is soft with affection. She glances between the child and Nana, her heart full.The drums begin to roll slowly, the sound de

Lowell stands by the window, unmoving. The night is cold and heavy. The weight in his chest suffocates him. He has led armies into war. He has faced death more times than he can count. But nothing — nothing — has prepared him for this. His six-month-old son, his first pup, is gone. Taken from his own walls.His fists tremble at his sides. He wants to smash the glass, rip apart the walls, tear through the night until he finds him. But he cannot lose control. Not yet. The pack watches him. They look for strength in their Alpha. And yet, inside, he is breaking.Nana sits curled on the couch, her body shaking with silent sobs. Her face is pale, her eyes red and swollen. She clutches the small blue blanket their son loved. It still smells like him. His soft baby scent, warm milk and innocence. The scent that now feels like a knife in her chest.Felicia kneels at Nana’s side, her own face streaked with tears. She keeps whispering, “I’m sorry… I should have been with him… I should never have

Lowell’s heart pounds louder than the rustling of the leaves. The air feels heavier, colder, filled with a tension that squeezes his chest tight. He smells her before he sees her — her scent sharp, twisted with desperation and triumph.Melissa walked out of nowhere among the chaos.She steps out slowly, her hands trembling but steady enough to hold the dagger against the soft skin of his son’s neck.Lowell’s breath catches. His mind refuses to believe what his eyes are seeing. His boy — his little boy — trapped in the arms of a woman he once trusted. The knife glints under the faint moonlight.He turns sharply at his Beta Nathan, even though he had Stephen pinned on the ground on the ground, he knows he can’t do anything as long as they have the child.His men were all stunned.It feels like the entire world is standing still.“How the hell did we not take the child to a safe place first? Fuck, I let my anger blind me” He mutters to himself.“Please…” His voice comes out broken, strai

Lowell’s body trembles against the cold bite of the silver chains. Every muscle strains as he pulls, but it only burns deeper into his flesh. His wrists are raw. His breathing is uneven. But his eyes — his eyes remain fixed on the boy.His boy.He watches the sorcerer cradle the child like a delicate object. The chanting has not stopped. The ancient words float in the air, heavy and dark, swirling around them.Lowell pulls again. The chains tighten. His skin sizzles. His knees threaten to give way, but he forces himself upright. His son is crying softly now, reaching out tiny arms that tremble with fear.“I need to get to him,” Lowell whispers to himself, voice hoarse and cracking.He pulls harder. The chain bites deeper, slicing into his wrist. Blood trickles down, but he doesn’t care. He jerks forward again. Another burn, another sting, but still he moves an inch.The sorcerer looks up, calm and detached. “Alpha,” his voice is flat, without emotion, “I suggest you stay still. This r