All Chapters of Bitten, Branded And Bare: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Enzo's POVThe silence of my office felt heavier than usual. I’d sent away three messengers already, barked at two warriors, and snapped at my beta, and still, my chest hadn’t stopped aching since they carried Lisa out of the fighting ground. The sight of her—small, drenched in blood, ribs visibly broken—kept flashing in my mind. No matter how many years I’d seen warriors bleed, or how many battles I’d waded through ankle-deep in corpses, something about seeing her like that left a sour taste in my mouth. She wasn’t a seasoned fighter; she wasn’t supposed to be on the ground, torn and cracked open like some offering to the moon.And yet, she fought.She fought Irene with everything she had and more. She called on her wolf—however briefly—and survived what should have killed her. That truth alone should have filled me with pride. But instead, it filled me with a sharp, gnawing concern I couldn’t shake.The healers had wanted to put her in the infir

Bryan's POVThe corridors of Alpha Rowland’s mansion were suffocating tonight. Every sound echoed like an accusation, every shadow dragged my thoughts back to the chaos that had unfolded in the arena. I hadn’t been able to get Irene’s face out of my head since then—the sheer rage, the humiliation, the fiery promise in her eyes when she spat that she would make Lisa pay. I had pushed her too far, too fast. I knew it now. And as much as her tantrums could send the entire household into disorder, I had been the one who set her on this disastrous path.I took a deep breath as I approached her chambers. The guards at her door lowered their heads respectfully, but even they looked uneasy. No one liked being near Irene when she was in this state. “You can wait outside,” I said quietly. They didn’t hesitate to step aside.I pushed open the door and found her sitting upright on the bed, her golden hair disheveled, her eyes swollen from crying and furious outbursts.

Irene's POVI had always imagined my father as indestructible. A man of stone, steel, fire, and pride, someone who could not be bent or broken by anything or anyone. He was Alpha Rowland, feared across borders, respected even among his rivals. People trembled when his name was spoken, and they bowed when his presence filled a room. He wasn’t just my father—he was the pillar of my entire world, the man I was certain would always stand behind me, no matter how turbulent life became.But that illusion shattered the moment the news came.I was sitting in my chamber, staring blankly at the silver-framed mirror, replaying the humiliation Lisa had inflicted on me over and over again in my mind. My ribs still ached from the wounds she had managed to inflict, and my pride had been shredded into something that felt irreparable. I wanted blood. I wanted her lifeless body at my feet so I could remind everyone who I was, who my father had raised me to be.And

Third person POVThe night air over Enzo’s pack lands was heavy, a restless hush drifting through the streets, carried by the whispers of warriors and omegas alike. Rumors spread faster than wildfire—the news of Alpha Rowland’s death had reached even the youngest pup’s ears. The elders had demanded clarity, the warriors demanded preparation, and the entire pack needed reassurance. It was in this fraught atmosphere that Enzo called for an emergency pack meeting.The council hall, an expansive stone structure carved with generations of history, was already overflowing with bodies before Enzo arrived. Warriors stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces tense, jaws clenched in suspicion or grief. Mothers with their children pressed near the back, watching with wide eyes, as though the announcement tonight could change the shape of their lives forever.When Enzo entered, flanked by Ash, silence rolled through the space like a crashing tide. He stood tall, regal in

Third person POV The grand hall of the late Alpha Rowland’s estate was still draped in black banners, the lingering scent of mourning incense heavy in the air. Chairs had been arranged in a perfect circle, as was tradition for council gatherings, yet the emptiness left by Rowland’s absence was almost tangible. His chair—larger than the rest, carved with the symbols of his lineage—remained empty at the head of the circle. A silver candle burned before it, a solemn acknowledgment that his spirit had not yet faded from memory.Council members filled the room, some stiff with grief, others sharp-eyed and restless. Beta Morris, who had served Rowland faithfully for decades, sat silently with hands clasped, jaw tight. Several elders shifted uncomfortably, voices low as they whispered among themselves. The atmosphere was not only one of mourning but also of urgency—because a pack without its Alpha was vulnerable, fractured, and ripe for internal and external threats alik