Semua Bab Carrying the cursed Alphas Heir: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Rowan's POV I dont wake him up—I never do. I wait. And when he wakes, I bow, avert my gaze, and remain silent until he leaves. Then, I wonder when he’ll come again. I head to the bathroom to freshen up. The girl staring back at me in the mirror looks like a mess. Grabbing my brush from the cabinet, I quickly run it through my hair. I keep it long because that’s what the Alpha prefers. We all do. There are three of us, and I’m the least visited. Perrie says he only comes to me out of obligation, a reminder that I was given to him as a gift. In three years, he’s only laid with me five times,twice in the past two months. Zelma claims he was angered when he found out I wasn’t a virgin. I don’t believe her, though. I remember that night. He didn’t seem particularly interested in me, and his indifference neither grew nor lessened when he realized I lacked a hymen. Satisfied with my hair, I tie it into a neat ponytail. Today will be busy. It’s Luna Chelsea’s birthday, and a grand

Rowan's povThe chain strains,then snaps.Pain lances through my bleeding palm, but I don’t care. I’m free.Dr. Bradley stares at the broken restraint, horror painted across her face. “That’s… impossible. Those chains were spelled—”I step off the bed, and her eyes snap back to me.She lifts her clipboard like a shield."Rowan, please. Remember, I'm human.”My wolf purrs at her fear. She likes to hunt.I take a slow, menacing step forward. Dr. Bradley takes two back.“Scream, doctor,” I murmur, my voice dripping with dark amusement. “Scream real loud.”She obeys, screaming loud and the door bursts open.Two guards rush in.One of them i recognise as Jonathan,Zelma’s brother."How the hell did she get loose?" he demands.Dr. Bradley doesn’t answer. She’s too busy pressing herself against the wall.“It doesn’t matter,” she gasps. “Detain her!”Contrary to popular belief, just because I'm an omega doesn't make me dumb, I know I can't win them both in a fight.Still, I won’t go down with

Alpha Kael’s POV I’ve killed for less. I’ve ended lives for betrayal, for disobedience, even for the flicker of a lie. But standing here, with Rowan trembling before me, I hesitate. And I hate that I do. She looks smaller than I remember. Fragile. But I know better than to be fooled by appearances. Wolves can hide claws behind soft eyes. “Rowan,” I say, tasting her name on my tongue like something bitter and forbidden. It's the first time I’ve said it aloud. I never planned to. She wasn’t supposed to matter. Yet here we are. She looks startled that I know her name. Good. Let her feel the imbalance. Let her remember who holds the power in this room. “Do you know who I am?” A stupid question, but necessary. I need to hear it. I need to watch her squirm. She nods. “Do you know what happened to me ten years ago?” She nods again. Of course she does. Everyone does. My curse is legend—whispered in every pack across the lands. A legacy not of power, but of failure. Of bloodline ext

Rowan’s POVThe guards don’t speak as they escort me, not even when we pass others who pause mid-step to stare. The pack is buzzing like a nest of hornets, and I am the intruder they want stung to death.The doors to the meeting hall loom ahead, tall and carved with ancient runes. The last time I walked through them, I was summoned for an oath. Today, I might leave with a sentence.The guards push the heavy doors open.Ten Elders sit around a crescent-shaped table,aged, austere, their expressions carved from stone. Each bears the sigil of their bloodline, their rank. At the center sits Elder Marros, the High Voice, his silver eyes colder than frostbite.Alpha Kael stands near the fireplace, arms crossed, his face unreadable. The Lunas sit to his left,both regal, both rigid. Their stares pierce me like twin blades. I lower my gaze only for a moment.“Rowan,” Elder Marros says. His voice is dry parchment. “You are here to answer questions concerning a matter of grave importance.”I nod

Rowan's POVThe market is unusually crowded for a midday hour. Wolves bustle from stall to stall, arms full of cloth, fresh bread, and jars of honeyed roots. None of them look at me.They part like water around a rock as I pass,stepping aside, pretending not to see me. The silence that follows me is louder than any insult.I came out today because I needed to feel air, to remember what it's like to stand under the sun. To feel like a person, not a rumor.But I regret it already.I clutch the small list in my hand,nothing special, just herbs, bread, and soap. The stall-keeper avoids eye contact as he hands me the items. I leave my change without a word.And then—“Rowan, right?”The voice is like a song, light and unexpected. I turn, startled, and find a girl smiling at me like I’m not the pack’s outcast. Like I’m just… someone.She’s all sunshine,golden curls pulled into a loose braid, freckles dusted across her cheeks, wearing a ridiculous yellow coat far too bright for spring. She g