All Chapters of The Alpha’s Untamed Beast is: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

LYRA'S POV “Finish your statement, Ethan.” I say, voice low but unrelenting. “Before you got the chance to, what?” I ask, my voice barely audible. “You don't get to dangle unfinished sentences at me like that, and just stop.” My words come out more broken than I mean it to. Damn. His throat bobs, Adam's apple rising and falling as if the words are physically stuck there. I don't let up. My eyes bore into his like they're scalpels, and I'm here to dissect every damn emotion he's hiding behind that broody Alpha exterior. He hesitates, then leans in, just enough that I can feel the heat of him. “Before I got the chance to show you how much I care.” The words hang in the air, thick and tangled in all the things we've been avoiding. And just like that, the armor I've been wearing– gritted teeth, sarcastic deflections, forced bravado– starts to crack. I step closer, refusing to let him retreat behind silence and half-truths again…not today. My heart isn't just pounding– it's stagi

LYRA'S POV The darkness isn't empty. It pulses. Not the kind that comes with sleep. No. This is cold. A drowning breath-snatching, bone-deep kind of dark that buzzes with power and memory. My lungs burn as though I'm truly underwater, pulled by invisible tides deeper into a vast, boundless abyss. It isn't just black. It's weightless, formless, like I'm stepping into a pause between thoughts, it clings to me, yet doesn't touch me. There's no floor beneath me, no air to breathe, yet I'm not suffocating. I'm floating, or maybe I'm falling. It's impossible to tell. My body remains numb. I can't scream. Can't move. For a moment, I wonder if this is death… Then I hear it– my mother's voice. “Lyra.” I had never gotten the chance to properly know her. She died two years following my birth. Dad told me so much about her growing up, every story filled with just how much adoration her had for her. I'd have given anything to get even a minute more with her. To spend more time with the

DAN'S POVI've faced rogue attacks, tracked scents no matter how faint the trail, and served on the front line and beyond for Ravenwood for as long as I can remember.But nothing– nothing– could've prepared me for the five seconds of skin contact I had with Clara yesterday morning.Her fingers had brushed mine. Just a brush. But it was like touching lightning.And then she bolted like I'd burned her.Now here I am, standing at the edge of the training fields like an idiot, holding a clipboard I haven't looked at in ten minutes while watching warriors run drills I'm supposed to be overseeing.“Captain, you good?”Jax, one of the junior warrior's voice, snaps me out of my spiral. I blink at him like he's grown a second head, then cough and wave the clipboard in a show of fake authority. “Yeah. Yeah. I'm good. Keep form on those turns.”He raises a brow but doesn't push, jogging back to the others. I run a hand down my face and sigh.Gods, I need to get it together.She says she doesn't

CLARA'S POVThe mirror stares back at me with someone else's eyes.They tell me the face is mine– this body, the scars, this name, Clara.I can't help but repeat it like a mantra whenever I stare back at my reflection alone. Clara. Clara. Clara.But it still feels like slipping under someone else's skin. Like trying to remember a song I once knew all the lyrics to, only now it's muffled and warped by static.I sigh, sitting on the edge of my bed as I fiddle with the hem of the sweater Lyra brought me last night.She means well. Always so gentle, cautious, like I'm a porcelain doll about to crack. But when she looks at me, there's this unspoken grief in her eyes. Like she's mourning someone I'm supposed to be.I hear a knock on the door and I smell her right after. Speak of she-wolf.“Clara?” Lyra pokes her head in, voice soft.“Hey.” I reply keeping my voice light like we're old friends…we were cousins now after all… though I have no idea of the relationship we used to have before the

LYRA'S POVA blood curling scream slices through the quiet like a knife. My heart shutters, chest tightening in panic.It came from down the hallways..."Clara!" I call, scrambling out of bed, all traces of sleep vanishing like smoke. My feet hits the floor hard, echoing through the empty hall.Every instinct screams that something's wrong. The way her voice cracked– it's not just fear. It's raw terror.I sprint down the corridor, feeling the weight of the packhouse closing in, shadows lengthening their claws to reach for me.I reach her door in seconds. It's locked."Clara! Please, open up!" My voice is urgent, desperate as I huff, breathing hard.No answer. Just silence, and a faint scent of cinnamon lingering outside.I pound on the door. "Clara! Please!"What could've possibly happened– be happening to her?My fingers fumble for the lock, heart hammering, like it's trying to escape my chest.The door clicks open just a crack, and I shove it wider, hurrying inside before she sudden