All Chapters of The Alpha’s Forgotten Bride: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

(Rowan’s POV)I have seen blood on battlefields. I have seen wolves tear each other apart. But nothing has ever felt like the rage running through my veins right now.Asher is gone.That small, warm body that had just started to trust me, that had started to laugh when I picked him up—gone. Snatched from under our roof. From under my protection.I should have been faster. I should have sensed it. Some part of me still believes I could have stopped it if I’d been paying closer attention, if I’d not been distracted by Calla’s tears, by my own guilt.Now it’s too late for regret. All that’s left is the hunt.⸻The east wing was a storm of movement—guards fanning out, Knox barking orders, scents being tracked through every corridor. Calla stood in the center of it, her silver hair wild, her hands clenched so tightly the knuckles blanched white. She looked like a goddess of war, barely restrained.Her eyes found mine, blazing. “It’s them,” she said. “It has to be them.”I didn’t need to as

(Calla's POV)We came down the mountain like a tempest over the cliff's edge. The trees, snow, thin air, none of it hindered any of us. My boots struck the path with brutal, even beat, the ache in my legs masked by the one, burning concept of my son. Asher's name pounded in the rhythm of the heartbeat with each beat, prayer and war cry the same idea.The edges of the pack emerged from the morning mist, weathered old wooden fences that used to keep out and now let in.I was already punching up numbers I hadn't dialed in decades on my phone before we made it to them. My fingers shook but my voice as tough as steel when my cousin answered the third ring."Calla?" Kira's voice was sleep-thick but sharp, sleep-heavy but cutting instantly. "Years. What is it?"I swallowed the bolus of fear back in my throat, metallic and tasting bad. "Asher's been taken."A sharp inhale on the other end of the line, then sound of motion, Kira sitting up, likely already logged on to her computer. "Gods, Call

(Calla's POV)The freeway stretched out in front of us like a strip of black glass in the moonlight, trees crowding in on both sides like guards observing us. Our SUV moved smoothly along, a gentle hum of engine and metal. The rear seats were stacked with weapons: gleaming swords next to matte-black rifles, boxes of ammunition, vials of silver, charms and talismans Freya had made us bring. It was strange to have remnants of war littered across hot woolen blankets and coffee cups, but it was the kind of world we had come to live in, a world where guns and ancient magic were fighting the same war on the same side. Rowan was behind the wheel.One hand gripped the steering wheel, the other on his thigh, white-knuckled enough to be gray. His eyes were on the road but his clenched jaw betrayed the story. I rode shotgun in the front passenger seat, hunched forward, my hand pressed to the cold windshield as trees whizzed by. I could see in the rearview mirror the gentle glow of our pack wo

(Calla’s POV)The deeper we moved inside , the more then tension rose. And the air was thick with copper, ash, and old power. My lungs burned with every breath, but it wasn’t just the stench of magic; it was fear sharpening into fury. Somewhere below, my son’s heartbeat fluttered like a trapped bird. I felt it through the thin thread of my wolf’s senses, and it drove me forward faster than reason.Rowan moved ahead of me, a dark shape with silver eyes in the dim light, sword drawn and steady. His presence was a wall between me and the abyss, yet also a spark feeding my anger. Our bond vibrated, our wolves pacing beneath our skin. For years we had been apart, but here—in this labyrinth built on betrayal—we were again a unit, fighting toward the same heartbeat.We reached the final stair. Heat rolled up from below, along with low chanting that twisted my stomach. Freya’s voice whispered in my mind, the circle will bind him, it will drain him; hurry. I tightened my grip on the pistol in

(Calla's POV)I did not know silence could be so heavy.The ritual room, that gushing, hissing well of magic seconds before, was now emptiness of stone and ash alone. Walls still whispered softly with the residue of magic which had foamed between them, but the fire gone out. Smoked herbs lingered thick in the air, bitter and stinging at the base of my neck.My ears still rang with the ring of my own scream, the scream that had been torn from me when magic had burst forth from me and killed Cyrus dead as a rock.I braced my legs stiff and attempted to make them move. My knees protested in pain to bend, my body entreating them to bend and be through with it, but I locked them stiff. There were two people in this room who counted, and until I had double-verified that they were alive, I was not giving up.Rowan was pinned under the debris of a shattered pillar, his wide shoulders out in front of him, his tunic ripped crimson where the sword had sliced through. He'd gone ahead, run forw