All Chapters of BOUGHT BY CRUELEST ALPHA: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The liquid moonlight still coats my hands, its glow pulsing in time with my heartbeat—or maybe it's the child inside me, stirring with something sharper than kicks. Something like recognition. Silas' wolves turn as one, their eyes reflecting the firelight in shades of copper and rust. The scent of them hits me—sweat and gunpowder and something bitter underneath, like wolfsbane left to rot. The first one lunges. I don't think. My body moves with a grace that isn't mine, twisting aside as his claws rake empty air. My elbow connects with his throat, the crunch of cartilage vibrating up my arm. He drops, gurgling. The others freeze. I don't. The hallway blurs as I run, my pulse a drumbeat in my ears. The walls are scarred with claw marks, the portraits slashed beyond recognition. Arthur's face stares up at me from a torn canvas, one golden eye remaining intact amid the ruin. The great hall doors hang crooked on their hinges. Inside, the fire has burned low, painting everyth

His fingers find my throat before his eyes open. The pressure isn't cruel—not quite—but it's absolute. Arthur's palm presses against my pulse point, his thumb resting just below my jaw. Testing. Claiming. The scent of wolfsbane and blood still clings to him, thick as fog, but beneath it I catch something warmer, something that makes the baby kick hard enough to steal my breath. "You bleed for me?" His voice is wrecked, scraped raw from poison and smoke. I don't answer. Can't. My blood is everywhere—crusted under my nails, smeared across his lips, staining the furs beneath us in rust-colored blooms. The cut on my palm throbs in time with my heartbeat. Arthur's grip tightens. Not enough to hurt. Enough to remind me who holds whom. His eyes are wolf-bright even in the dim light, the gold nearly swallowing the black. "Say it." The words claw their way up my throat. "My mother was Whitefang." His fingers twitch. "A rogue," I continue, watching his face for any flicker of re

Vienna paces like a caged thing, her heels clicking on stone, each step a tiny detonation. Her perfume cuts through the stink – something expensive and cold, like frost on dead roses. She stops behind Arthur’s chair, trails a blood-red nail along the headrest. He doesn’t stir. Just lies there, breathing too shallow, skin still the wrong shade of ash. The machines beep, beep, beep. Mocking me."Thomas," Vienna says, the name dropping like a stone into still water. "Wasn’t just muscle. Wasn’t even just Silas’s dog." She leans forward, bracing her hands on the table. Her knuckles are white. "He was The Chimera Order’s failed experiment. A mongrel. Like trying to stitch a wolf to a house cat." A bitter laugh escapes her, sharp as broken glass. "Turns out, you need special glue."Claire shifts beside me, a low growl building in her throat. I feel it vibrate through the floorboards. Vienna ignores her. Her gold eyes pin me to the chair. "Your grandmother," she says, slow, deliberate, sa

The hybrid's claws rake across my shoulder before I can twist away. The pain comes a heartbeat later—white-hot, searing—as blood soaks through my shirt. The scent of it sends the creatures into a frenzy, their glowing green eyes dilating, nostrils flaring. "Move!" Vienna shoves me backward just as another hybrid lunges. Its teeth snap shut on empty air where my throat had been. Garrick's roar shakes the walls as he tackles the thing to the ground. His knife flashes once, twice, black blood spraying across the concrete. But there are too many. They're coming from everywhere—dropping from the ceiling vents, slithering through doorways, their movements too fast, too fluid, too wrong . Claire's wolfsbane grenade arcs through the air. The explosion sends two hybrids staggering back, their skin blistering, their shrieks piercing the chaos. The acrid smoke burns my lungs as I scramble for cover behind an overturned table. Garrick stumbles into view, clutching his side. Blood seeps b

Moonlight slants through the curtains, painting silver stripes across the floorboards. Safe. We’re safe here. The lie tastes bitter. Havenbrook’s walls are thick, the wards strong, but the air stinks of wolfsbane tonight. Not the crude poison Kael used—something subtler. Older. Like the scent clinging to Kieran’s clothes when he appeared in the ruins. Elara stirs, her tiny face scrunching. Goldfire flickers in her veins, reacting to something . They’re watching. The thought slithers down my spine. I press my nose to her downy hair, inhaling milk and that sharp, electric tang that’s all her . My pulse thrums where her cheek rests against it. Too fast. She’ll sense my fear. A floorboard groans in the hall. I’m on my feet before the handle turns, my free hand scrabbling for the silver-plated dagger under the blanket. Claire slips inside, her boots silent on the rug. Moonlight catches the fresh scar across her throat—Vienna’s parting gift. Her nostrils flare as s