All Chapters of Marked by the enemy alpha: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

The Silverridge Pass had always been a place of cold winds and colder politics. Nestled high in the mountains, where the snow rarely melted and the trees whispered secrets older than any pack, the Crescent Summit’s stone citadel rose like a spearhead carved into the cliffs. Its massive silver gates gleamed under the morning sun, guarded by elite warriors from all corners of the realm. Banners of the surviving great houses—Ironhowl, Stonevein, Nightveil, Mooncrest, and several neutral clans—flapped listlessly in the frigid breeze. Aria’s breath fogged before her as she dismounted. Her riding cloak, thick and fur-lined, bore the crest of Mooncrest now restored—an intertwining crescent and flame. At her side, Kael surveyed the citadel with narrowed eyes, his hand never far from the hilt of his sword. Behind them, Elandra and a small entourage of trusted warriors waited silently, their expressions unreadable. “They didn’t waste time rebuilding,” Kael muttered as they approached the gat

The night wrapped the forest in a deep, tranquil stillness, broken only by the faint sigh of the wind threading through the towering ancient trees. Moonlight spilled like liquid silver through the thick canopy, illuminating the forest floor in shifting pools of light and shadow. The air was crisp, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and pine, a reminder of the wildness that still pulsed beneath the fragile peace. In the heart of this wilderness, Kael and Aria stood face to face, their breaths mingling in the cool air. Their bodies were tired—worn from battle, sacrifice, and the relentless strain of leadership—but their spirits burned with a fierce resolve that refused to dim. Around them, the shadows seemed to lean closer, whispering secrets of the past and portents of the future. Kael’s gaze locked with Aria’s, steady and unyielding. His dark eyes held the weight of all they had endured together—the betrayals, the near-death encounters, the fracture of the Council, and the eve

The moon had begun its descent beyond the dense canopy of Silent Ridge, casting pale light upon the blood-soaked battlefield. Kael’s cloak fluttered faintly in the wind, heavy with the scent of ash, iron, and smoke. The silence after the battle was eerie—deafening in its own right. No howls pierced the night, no cries of victory echoed through the trees. Only quiet remained, haunted by the memories of those who had fallen. Aria sat beneath the twisted trunk of a silver-pine, her side freshly bandaged, the blood already seeping through the linen. Her breaths were shallow but steady. Elandra hovered nearby, inspecting the makeshift field hospital that had been established between two massive boulders. The Council healer moved methodically, wordless as she worked, her brow furrowed with focus and fatigue. “We lost too many,” Aria murmured, her eyes fixed on the broken line of the horizon. Her voice was hoarse, not just from pain, but from the weight of all she had seen. Kael approache

The ruins lay hidden beneath layers of moss and centuries of silence, their crumbling spires reaching toward the twilight sky like jagged memories of a forgotten past. Kael stepped forward first, his boots crunching over scattered fragments of stone etched with half-buried sigils. The air here was dense with magic—old, untouched magic. Not the kind pulsing from a witch's spell or a healer’s charm, but deeper, more primal. It was as though the earth itself whispered. Aria followed closely behind, her eyes scanning the surroundings. “This place…” she murmured, her voice trembling with both awe and caution, “it feels like it’s breathing.” Elandra, who trailed them silently, nodded once. “Because it is. The blood oaths sworn here were never broken—they were simply forgotten. But the land remembers.” They stood at the entrance to the ruins of Varethal, the last known site of the ancient Unity Pact—an agreement formed in the earliest days when wolves, witches, and seers had fought sid

The ruins smoldered, their smoke curling into the dawn sky like whispers from a broken past. Kael stood at the edge of the scorched earth, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, his jaw clenched. Behind him, the remnants of the old Silverfang stronghold lay in silent ruin—a once formidable fortress now reduced to charred stones and hollow echoes. Aria stepped up beside him, her eyes burning as she stared into the ruins. “The truth is buried here,” she said, her voice low but resolute. “And now we’ve unearthed it.” Kael nodded. “But at what cost?” The fire had revealed more than broken stone and forgotten secrets—it had brought to light the betrayal etched into their history, the long-standing web of lies spun by elders who had once sworn to protect the packs. The Crimson Fang’s rise had not been an accident. It had been orchestrated from within, born of vengeance, fear, and ambition. Aria turned to face him. “We can’t let the others carry the weight of these ashes. They need t