บททั้งหมดของ Claimed By The Alpha: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

Ryleigh sat on the edge of her narrow bed, the quiet of her room pressing in like a second skin. The day had been long, her legs sore, her thoughts heavier than ever. The overhead light cast a dull glow against the pale cream walls—bare, cold, and impersonal. The only splash of life in the room was the modest blanket folded neatly at the foot of her bed and the small wooden nightstand beside her.She pulled out her phone for the second time today.Three messages from Derek.Her heart skipped as she opened them, reading slowly, savoring each word as though it had weight.Derek: I miss you. I keep thinking about you. In a few days, I’ll be heading to Brazil. The sickness is spreading faster than we thought. It’s getting worse.Please be safe. I’m going to reach out to Damien first thing—he needs to know what’s coming.She frowned, rereading the last line. Contact Damien? That didn’t sound good. If it was urgent enough to involve the Alpha, things were more serious than she realized.She

Ryleigh stood at the small bathroom sink, her toothbrush lazily working back and forth as she stared into the mirror. Her hazel eyes stared back—wider, more alert than usual. Beneath the sleepy puffiness, there was something steely. Something sure.This was the day.She spat, rinsed, and wiped her mouth with a towel, studying herself. There was no magic spark, no sudden transformation—but she could feel it. The invisible shift inside her. She was about to do something Margaret Blackthorn hadn’t seen coming.And Ryleigh couldn't wait.The house was quiet as expected. It was still early—just after sunrise. No footsteps echoed in the grand halls, no distant clangs of kitchenware or voices drifting through the stairwell. But she knew the others were awake. Working. Quiet little shadows who moved before anyone else rose from their featherbeds.She was one of them… but not today.She slipped out of her sleepwear and tugged on a pair of soft black joggers, a fitted white undershirt, and a gr

The leather-bound record book let out a soft thud as Ryleigh gently closed it and returned it to the shelf. She traced her fingers along the spine before stepping back and letting out a soft breath. There was something sacred about the library—something that smelled like ink, time, and forgotten stories.As she walked out of the pack records room, the shift in atmosphere was almost jarring. The main section of the library was bright and open, lined wall to wall with shelves of books—some polished and new, others so old their pages curled and crackled like autumn leaves. Dust floated in the air, caught in streams of afternoon sunlight pouring through tall arched windows. It was peaceful here… almost like the world outside didn’t exist.Ryleigh wandered through the aisles, her fingers brushing the spines as she passed. For a brief moment, she wasn’t a servant, or a secret, or a girl tangled between two brothers. She was just a reader—hungry for escape.She paused when her eyes landed on

Ryleigh sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers digging into the comforter as the events of the afternoon played over and over in her mind. The trees. The clearing. The massive wolf. And then… Damien.Damien.She clenched her jaw and stared at the floor, feeling the same rush of heat and confusion that had overwhelmed her earlier. The way he emerged from the trees, bare and unapologetic, like sin wrapped in flesh. His voice, smooth and commanding. The way he touched her. Looked at her. Wanted her.And the way he stopped.She had told him the truth. That she was with Derek. And in that moment, something in Damien’s face had changed. He hadn’t lashed out. He hadn’t growled or shown his dominance. But the tension had been there, thick in the air, wrapped around them like vines threatening to strangle her. He had walked away, his expression unreadable, but the power in his steps made it clear—he was still Alpha.Which meant he could take everything from her if he wanted to.Ryleigh rubbed

Sunday morning dawned gray and still, the air unusually thick and quiet. Ryleigh moved through the kitchen slowly, her limbs leaden, her heart heavier than it had been all week. She hadn’t slept much—every time she closed her eyes, she imagined Derek alone in Brazil, sick, or worse, unconscious in some hospital bed with no phone.She stirred sugar into a cup of tea, the soft clink of the spoon the only sound in the quiet house.And then it happened.A door slammed upstairs, followed by hurried, uneven footsteps. The sound of sobbing. Shouting.Ryleigh turned toward the hallway, setting the spoon down.“No, no, no—this can’t be right!” Margaret’s voice shrieked from the upper floor. “Find him! Now!”Ryleigh’s breath caught in her throat.She rushed to the archway just as the towering front doors opened, and one of the estate guards was already running out across the gravel. Margaret stood at the top of the stairs, her long salt and pepper hair wild, a silk robe wrapped over her gown as