Lahat ng Kabanata ng Claimed by the Alpha's Curse : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

The scent of ash and frost clung to Lyra’s skin as she drifted between waking and oblivion. She was vaguely aware of movement—arms around her, powerful and warm, carrying her like something precious.She didn’t understand.The last thing she remembered was the way the earth had split beneath her soul, the way her skin had burned with a light that wasn’t silver, and the man whose eyes had pierced through everything.Alpha Kaelen.They said he was cursed. That he’d been exiled from his pack and had disappeared into the wastelands, haunted by the ghosts of wolves he’d slaughtered.But if he was a ghost, then why did his touch feel so real?---Kaelen’s jaw was tight as he moved through the woods, Lyra pressed against his chest, limp but breathing. Her scent tangled around his mind like a binding spell—lavender, pine, and something darker. Like old magic. The kind the Moon Goddess buried and prayed no one would ever find.But she had found it.Or it had found her.Her skin had glowed with

“I choose fight.”The words left Lyra’s lips with a clarity that settled into the ground like a spell.Kaelen’s eyes didn’t flicker. They locked on hers, the fire between them crackling with shared purpose. For the first time since the blood moon, Lyra didn’t feel like she was surviving — she felt like she was choosing.The corner of Kaelen’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but close. “Then let’s make you unstoppable.”He turned toward the body of the rogue whose neck she’d broken only moments earlier. Blood pooled in the snow beneath its broken spine. Without hesitation, Kaelen knelt, pulled a pouch from his belt, and scattered a dark, metallic powder over the corpse.Lyra watched with unease as smoke curled up from the powder, hissing like it was alive.“What is that?” she asked, her breath ghosting in the air.“Ritual ash,” Kaelen replied, voice low. “It masks scent, corrupts memory. When they find this body, they’ll smell your blood, your wolf, even your shift signature. It’ll

The next morning, the Hollow woke with a wind that screamed.It wasn’t the playful rustling of leaves or the occasional howl of the distant wilds. This wind was angry, it sounded like a thousand voices howling through a shattered veil. It clawed at the trees, bending them to its will, and made the sanctuary stones hum with unease.Kaelen stirred first, muscles tense beneath his fur-lined cloak. He rose soundlessly from the moss-covered floor, eyes already narrowing at the stones surrounding the sanctuary’s boundary. Usually, they glowed with a soft silver light—like moonlight reflected on calm water. But now… now they bled red, a pulsing crimson like an open wound, he didn't like the feeling at all.He didn’t need a seer’s gift to know something was wrong.Lyra emerged moments later, breath fogging in the frost-bitten air, her boots crunching lightly on the frost-laced earth. Her hair was tangled, her eyes wild from sleep, but the beast within her was already stirring threatening to r

AUTHORS NOTE.DEAR LOVELY READERS, I AM EXTREMELY SORRY FOR THE MIXUP,I ACCIDENTALLY UPLOADED THE CHAPTER OF MY OTHER BOOK.I AM EXTREMELY SORRY FOR ANY CONFUSION The Hollow did not weep when they left—but it watched.As Lyra stepped beyond the boundary of ancient stone and into the frostbitten woods, she felt the forest's eyes upon her. The runes hummed softly behind her like a heartbeat slowing down. She turned once more, committing the sanctuary to memory.This place had changed her. Awakened her. But it was no longer safe for her.Not with Dren’s minions still echoing in the shadows.Kaelen walked beside her, silent but steady. They moved fast to the north, through the wildlands where few dared to roam, a place between packs, marked only by bones and forgotten names.Lyra adjusted her cloak and asked, “How far is the Accord?”“Far enough that no one remembers it exists,” Kaelen replied, scanning the terrain. “But I’ve walked this path before. Once.”She caught the tension in his

Smoke curled from the ruins of Nightshade Keep like black snakes fleeing a dying god. The battleground was eerily silent, save for the soft crackle of fire and the distant howls of victory echoing from the high cliffs. Blood stained the earth, some of the dried blood dark and tainted, some bright and clean. The Rift was gone. The curse was broken. But Lyra Thorne didn’t feel like she’d won. She still felt like something important was missing. She stood near the shattered altar where the tether had once pulsed, her palms felt raw, her body was aching from the magic and blood it had taken to destroy it. Her clothes were scorched. Her voice hoarse. Every breath a razor in her lungs. Her eyes hurt as well. Kaelen found her there, his tunic torn, a gash across his shoulder still bleeding despite the attempts of the Accord’s healers. He didn't seem to be bothered by the bleeding. “You’re still standing,” he said. “So are you.” “I wasn’t sure we’d survive the tether’s collapse.” Lyr