All Chapters of Claimed By The Big Bad Alpha : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Tristan stood at the center of his old room in the Eldorin palace, the silence pressing against him like a long-forgotten memory. The air here hadn’t changed—it still carried the faint scent of stone,and carried the same oppressive feel. The torches along the far wall flickered, casting erratic shadows that danced over the worn blades mounted above his fireplace.He ran a hand through his hair as he paced in front of window. From there, he could see the great marble courtyard where he'd once trained from sunrise to dusk, a boy too proud to admit pain. The same place he’d made his first kill under his father’s watchful eye. The same ground where he had escaped after the accusations of him trying to kill Rhovan.He squeezed his eyes shut.This room remained him of a cage...the whole palace did.The council meeting had been adjourned—he had expected that but was still livif. The elders are dragging their feet, insisting on “strategy,” on “rest,” while every part of him screamed to move n

Three Days LaterI stood in front of the passageway again.The cold hallway was quiet around me, but my heart thudded so loudly in my chest it might as well have echoed off the walls. I had trained like a damn dog these past few days—bruised, battered, pushed past exhaustion. Damian’s mood had been darker than usual. More impatient. Less forgiving. Like something was shifting behind his eyes, something he wasn’t saying but couldn’t keep buried anymore.It was like he was trying to speed everything up.But I had other plans.I stared at the portrait on the wall—the ridiculous one. The one with the man in royal robes and the world’s most obnoxious mustache curling over his smug lips. If I hadn’t known better, I’d think he was smirking at me. Mocking me.This was it.I knew I had to go back. The book weighed like guilt beneath my clothes, hidden under the long jacket I’d stolen from the laundry. I’d kept it close, hidden it through the training days, and not once dared to open it again.

I stayed frozen with time, chanting my mate's name like a mantra. Drops of rain drizzled down but I couldn't feel it...I couldn't feel anything.Tristan’s blood soaked into my dress, warm and sticky, seeping between my fingers as I cradled him. The blood around us was partly washed by the ranin. His head rested against my chest, eyes half-lidded, lifeless. The knife still sat in my palm like a curse, slick and cold, a reminder of what I’d done.No. No, no, no—The sound of feet skidding on grass sliced through the silence.I heard it but I couldn't care less.Not when my mate—my mate—was lying in my arms like this.“Luna?”The voice cracked.Emma.The little girl I saved the night of my coronation. She stood at the edge of the garden, hands clenched in her dress, eyes huge and wet as they locked onto me.Onto him.I didn’t speak. Couldn’t.The next voice was harsher and older. “Beta Lucas—over here!”More footsteps thundered in. Dozens.I didn’t lift my head. The sob caught in my thr

Jessica Lewis ( AN HOUR EARLIER)A soft hum filled the silence. Not a sound exactly, but a feeling—like music woven into the fabric of the void. My lashes fluttered as light bled into the darkness, warm and gold like the first breath of dawn.I stirred, unsure how long I’d been sitting there. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days?My limbs moved before I understood why. I rose slowly, breath shallow, as the white glow deepened, illuminating the space around me. I felt the shift before I saw her—like a tide changing direction, like the first heartbeat after death.She stood just beyond the reach of shadow, her form clothed in silver light, skin soft like moonstone, eyes holding the weight of galaxies. The Moon Goddess. Again.My heart stuttered.“You…” My voice was hoarse, broken. “Why are you here?”Her lips curved faintly—not in amusement, but in understanding. “Because you’re lost, child. And this time, you do not know the way back.”My eyes burned in shame. I looked down at my hands—clean,

The room smelled faintly of cedarwood and antiseptic, dimly lit by the low evening sun filtering through thick curtains. I lay still on the bed, barely able to lift my head. My entire body felt like it had been torn apart and stitched back together. My bones ached with exhaustion, and my skin buzzed with the remnants of the power I’d unleashed in the underworld.Tristan stood by the window, arms folded tightly across his chest, shoulders hunched. He hadn't looked at me since the doctor walked in. His jaw was clenched, brows drawn in a storm of thoughts I couldn’t reach. “How is she?” he asked, voice low, rough with something that sounded a lot like pain.The doctor—a middle-aged woman with calm, precise hands—offered a reassuring smile. “She’s just a bit weak. Her energy’s been drained, but she’ll recover after some good rest. No permanent damage. She's quite strong.”I wanted to laugh at that. Strong? I felt like a puppet with its strings cut.The doctor gave me a gentle pat on the