All Chapters of Fated to His Masked Alpha : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

The hall smelled of smoke and blood. Not the sweet iron tang of battle fresh, but the bitter, lingering scent that clung to stone after the flames were smothered and the bodies buried. Funerals had been held that morning. Wolves stood shoulder to shoulder in the courtyard, the names of the fallen read aloud, their ashes scattered to the wind. It should have been a moment of unity. Instead, the silence afterward was brittle, every eye heavy with blame that had no safe place to land. Now the council chamber was full again, though no one’s voice carried the same strength as before. Even the elders looked worn, shadows beneath their eyes deep as scars. Daisy sat at the head of the table, posture regal but her hands folded so tightly the knuckles whitened. Troy stood at her side, arms crossed, golden eyes darkened to bronze. Arden leaned against the far wall, his flank still sore but healing, while Lyra sat straight-backed in one of the chairs, her expression unreadable. Between them str

The ridge seemed to hold its breath. Fog clung to the jagged stones, wrapping them in a ghostly haze. Arden’s chest rose and fell with sharp, controlled fury, claws flexing against the soil. Beside him, Lyra’s eyes burned with disbelief, the golden flare of her wolf colliding against the violet glimmers seeping from Elric’s veins.Their cousin. Their blood.“How long?” Arden’s voice was low, dangerous, every syllable vibrating with betrayal.Elric laughed — an ugly, hollow sound that echoed off the rocks. “Since the beginning, cousin. While you were smashing training posts, while Lyra played the diplomat, I was watching. Listening. Waiting. And do you know what I saw?” His smile twisted, cruel and bitter. “A pack clinging to the old ways. Elders too blind to see what’s coming. A family chained by golden light when the world is shifting into violet flame.”Lyra’s throat tightened. “You sold us out.”“I freed myself,” Elric snapped, eyes flashing brighter. “Violet fire doesn’t bind, it

The courtyard dissolved into chaos.Elric’s words — “The heirs carry the Source” — hung like smoke over the crowd, impossible to disperse, choking every breath. Wolves shouted over each other, accusations and fear sparking like wildfire. Some demanded the heirs step forward, to prove or deny the claim. Others snarled at Elric, calling him a liar, a snake. But most… most stared at Arden and Lyra with wide, conflicted eyes.Arden’s throat felt raw, his breath uneven. His fists clenched at his sides, golden sparks threatening to flare. Not here. Not now. If he lost control, if he let the fire slip, Elric’s words would look like prophecy.Lyra stood straighter, though her stomach twisted so hard she thought she might collapse. Her voice, when it finally cut through the shouting, was calm but sharp. “Lies. Poison from a traitor who sold his blood for shadows. He’ll say anything to tear us apart.”Some wolves nodded, relief flickering across their faces. Others whispered louder. A few even

The ridges burned before dawn.Not with flame, not at first — but with screams.The violet-eyed wolves struck like shadows, silent until they were inside the defenses, then exploding with a violence that shook the forest awake. Fires lit the sky moments later, dry branches catching like kindling, smoke curling upward to choke the stars.Arden was already running when the first horn sounded. His wolf roared inside him, claws ripping at his skin, begging to be let loose. But it wasn’t the wolf that scared him — it was the fire. It surged beneath his veins with every step, hotter, wilder, closer to the surface than ever before.Lyra met him in the courtyard, her hair wild, her eyes lit not with fear but with fury. “They’re in the southern watch,” she shouted over the chaos. “They’ve broken through the ridge patrols.”Troy was already shifting, his golden aura igniting as he leapt into the fray. Daisy followed, her wolf a blur of silver and flame, their bond blazing across the battlefield

The great hall had never been so crowded.Allied packs filled the space shoulder to shoulder, their banners draped across the rafters — silver thorns, broken spears, crescent moons stitched in gold. The air was thick with scents, with wolves from every direction pressing into Blackpine territory under the excuse of mourning and alliance. But everyone knew why they had come.Lyra felt their eyes like claws against her skin. She stood beside her parents at the high table, spine straight, chin lifted. She would not bow beneath their hunger. She would not be a prize.But gods, she hated being watched.The first suitor stepped forward: Alaric of Silverthorn, tall and broad-shouldered, his wolf scent sharp with arrogance. He laid a blade on the table — forged from mountain steel, its edge gleaming.“For the heir of Blackpine,” he said, his voice carrying. “A weapon for one who already burns brighter than steel. Take it, and know Silverthorn would stand with you in war, in fire, in bond.”Th