All Chapters of I Stole His Mark: Chapter 51 - Chapter 58

The stone chamber felt colder than usual as Caelan entered, the torches lining the walls flickering like they shared in the discomfort of what was to come. His boots echoed against the marble floor, and every step felt heavier than the last. The scent of stone and ash filled the air, mixing with the muted tension of unspoken judgment. Every face he passed as he approached the council held a different brand of scrutiny—some cold, some curious, but all questioning.The council was already seated in their high-backed chairs, carved from the ancient timber of the Hollow’s sacred forest. Their expressions were carved from something harder. Grim. Calculated. A silence wrapped around them, taut and waiting to snap. Caelan’s eyes flicked across the room and landed on Ryvan, who stood near the eastern column, arms crossed, his eyes unreadable but alert.The Head Elder rose slowly, as if lifting the weight of the room with him. “Alpha Caelan,” he began, his voice gravelled with age and authorit

The door shut behind them.Ilia didn't turn. She stood by the window, fingers digging into the windowsill, breath shallow and fast. She had spoken her truth. She had faced them. But the fury simmering in her chest refused to cool.She was done proving herself.How many times had she bent to fit into their expectations? How many times had she been asked to be quieter, smaller, more obedient—just to earn a place at the table? She had clawed her way from servitude, bled for acceptance, fought to be seen, and still, they questioned her worth.The shame should never have been hers to carry.She spun away from the window and stalked across the room, her footsteps echoing sharp against the stone floor. Magic coiled beneath her skin, humming with fury and power. Her siren blood pulsed. Her wolf wanted to bare its teeth. Her very soul trembled with rejection—not from them, but from herself, for letting it go on this long.She would not be paraded. She would not be owned. She would never again

The silence stretched long after Ilia’s final words, but it wasn’t the silence of confusion—it was the silence of submission. The glowing tendrils of her magic had begun to recede, but the weight of her power pressed down like the aftermath of a lightning strike. It wasn’t fading; it was settling, embedding itself into the marrow of every person present. No one dared speak. No one dared move. They felt it—the shift, the reckoning. Not a request. Not a plea. A command. An unspoken truth: they didn’t have a choice anymore. She had become undeniable."Stand," she said simply.Chairs creaked. Breathing resumed. The council rose slowly, eyes cast downward, like men waking from a vision they did not understand.The Head Elder cleared his throat, trying to reclaim some authority. "Ilia, your power is... overwhelming. Dangerous, even."Ilia turned her head slowly, eyes gleaming like the edge of a blade. "My power is necessary. It's what this Hollow has ignored, feared, and suppressed for too

The arena was still.The weight of expectation settled like fog over the stone ring, thick with tension and anticipation. From the surrounding terraces, the Hollow watched in silence. Elders, warriors, civilians—all drawn to witness what had already become legend.At the sharp blast of the horn, the challenge began.Helena didn’t hesitate. She threw off her ceremonial cloak and lunged.Her fists were like iron. The first blow landed squarely in Ilia’s ribs, knocking the air out of her lungs. The second, a sharp elbow to the side of her face, sent her staggering backward.Ilia tried to reset her stance. She remembered what Derrin taught her—breathe, protect your center, stay light on your feet. But Helena gave her no room to think.Another strike. A boot to her thigh. A cruel backhand that split Ilia’s lip.The crowd roared in approval. Blood hit the dirt.From the stands, Caelan leaned over the barrier, his chest heaving.“Ilia!”Derrin stood beside him, knuckles white around the rail