Semua Bab The Alpha Twins' Hidden Mate: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Today is my father’s funeral.I didn’t cry. Not because I didn’t feel anything, but because I didn’t know what to feel. The grief, the anger, the confusion. Arthur was never much of a father to me. He had never been soft. He hadn’t been gentle. Not the kind you miss when they’re gone. But now that he’s dead, I feel like someone cut the last thread tying me to this pack.The last time I’d stood in front of a crowd like this was my wedding day. My hands in Adrian’s, my father nowhere to be found. And now, here I was again, wrapped in black, surrounded by strangers pretending to grieve. It’s all fake. Before I could make sense of that betrayal, I was burying the man who gave me half my DNA and not much else.The pack didn’t mourn Arthur. Not really. Most of the murmuring voices weren't remembering him—they were buzzing about the new alphas. The twins. Lucian and Kieran. Two names that had spread through the territory like wildfire. Not because they were strong, though they were, but beca

The werewolves whispered among themselves, their voices like dry leaves rustling in a storm. Some looked shocked. Others looked thrilled. Chloe? She looked like she’d swallowed a lemon.“How dare you be so disrespectful,” Chloe hissed, stepping forward as if she might slap me herself.I didn’t even blink.Several guards stepped forward, flanking me. One of them nudged me roughly to start walking. I didn’t fight it—what would be the point? The path had already been chosen the moment I refused to bow.As they led me through the center of the pack grounds toward the alpha house, the full weight of what had just happened settled over me. Not the fear—no, I’d already faced that. But the bitter taste of defeat. I wasn’t dead, but I hadn’t won either.From today on, I was no longer a fighter, no longer a defiant outsider standing on my own terms. From today on, I became a servant. And with every step closer to the alpha house, my dream of leaving the pack behind, of starting over in the huma

KIERANThe full moon always brought with it a storm. Not just the ache in my body, the desperate pull to give in to the wolf—but the voices.Every time I went feral, they came. Whispers from ghosts long dead. Some were the alphas Lucian and I had crushed in battle—bitter, mocking murmurs that gnawed at my mind. Others were crueler still. The voices of my parents, cold and disappointed, looping endlessly in my head. They never shouted. Didn’t need to. My mother’s voice was always quiet, cutting deeper than any scream: “You were too soft. That’s why we died.” And then my father’s: “One mistake, and everything burned.”I was only ten. Too young to fight. Too young to lead. But old enough to know I’d failed.I’d let a rogue slip into our territory. A lone wolf who begged for food and shelter. I believed him. Trusted him. But he was a spy for a rival pack. The next week, blood soaked our den. I watched my father’s body ripped apart before my eyes. My mother died trying to protect Lucian. I

I woke to the scent of cedarwood. A bed—an actual bed—cradled my aching body, its plush mattress so foreign after the cold stone floor that for a moment, I wasn’t sure I was still alive. The light was soft, golden, filtered through heavy curtains. Warmth radiated from somewhere near, wrapping me in comfort I didn’t trust.Then I noticed the walls. Dark wood. Framed photographs. A hunter’s rifle mounted above the doorway. This wasn’t a dungeon anymore. This was a bedroom. And not just any bedroom.I turned my head slowly, trying not to jar my stiff neck. On the nightstand beside me sat a small framed photo. Four figures stared back at me from the picture—two men, a woman, and a large hunting dog, all caught mid-laughter in some happier time. The woman had warm, honey-blonde hair that curled at the ends and the same piercing silver eyes as Lucian. The man looked strong and calm, with a broad hand resting gently on one boy’s shoulder.Kieran.Even as a boy, his smile had been wide, open.

Kieran didn’t respond to my question. He just stared for a long moment, his jaw tight, then released me without a word. It was unlike him not to have the last say. His silence was more unsettling than any threat he could have made. But I didn’t wait around to question it.I slipped out of the room, my heart pounding, muscles still tensed from the confrontation. I didn’t feel safe—but at least I was alone. Finally.Back in the narrow servant quarters, I didn’t collapse in exhaustion. I trained. Push-ups, sit-ups, shadowboxing in silence until sweat soaked my collar. The only thing that kept me sane was motion—reminding myself I still had control over my own body, even if I was under theirs.The guards rarely spoke to me. The servants avoided eye contact, their gazes flicking to the collar at my neck like it was a live wire. I wasn’t just different, I was a warning. A symbol of what happened to defiant wolves. No one dared ask what I'd done. But I saw their whispers, their pity, and som