Todos los capítulos de I Rejected My Mate To Protect The Pack: Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

When Sanctuary Crumbles Marcus pov The emergency call came at three in the morning, jolting me from the first decent sleep I had in days. The phone's shrill ring cut through the quiet of the Silverstone pack house like a blade, carrying with it the kind of urgency that meant lives hung in the balance. I drove back after talking with Hunter and Tara and I'm exhausted. "Marcus?" The voice on the other end was Alpha David Chen from the Mountain Ridge Pack, three hundred miles north of Silverstone territory. David's usual calm composure was completely shattered, replaced by barely controlled panic. "We need sanctuary. Immediate sanctuary for what's left of my pack." I was already pulling on clothes, my mind shifting into crisis mode. "What happened?" "They hit us tonight. The Broken Bond Brotherhood—at least a dozen of them, maybe more. They knew exactly where to strike, exactly when our defenses would be weakest." David's voice cracked with grief and rage. "They went after thr

Standing Together Tara pov The Silverstone pack house felt different when Hunter and I arrived that evening—charged with tension and filled with the subdued energy of a community preparing for war. Refugees from Mountain Ridge Pack had transformed the common areas into temporary living spaces, and the halls buzzed with quiet conversations about security measures and evacuation plans. But the biggest shock was finding Lydia Crescent in the main kitchen, efficiently organizing meal preparations for the displaced families. Hunter stopped dead in the doorway, his arm still in a sling from his shoulder injury, with me beside him carrying our shared hospital bag. Lydia looked up from the industrial-sized pot of soup she was stirring, her usually perfect appearance replaced by practical clothes and her platinum hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. "Hunter," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "You look better than I expected." "Lydia." Hunter's tone carried warning and confusion i

United We Stand Hunter pov The great hall had been transformed from a formal Council chamber into a war room in the space of an hour. The ornate banners still hung from the rafters, but the ceremonial seating had been replaced with tactical displays, communication equipment, and maps showing Brotherhood positions throughout the territory. I stood before the assembled crowd—not just Council members now, but pack warriors, refugees from Mountain Ridge, and volunteers from allied territories who had arrived throughout the day. The tablet containing the Brotherhood's ultimatum rested on the podium before me, its screen dark but somehow still emanating menace. Tara sat in a chair positioned just behind and to the side of where I stood, close enough to offer support but positioned to show that she was my partner, not my shadow. Her presence was a steady anchor as I prepared to address the largest gathering of supernatural leaders in decades. "Before we discuss our response," I bega

When Roles Reverse Hunter pov The warehouse should have been cleared. The Brotherhood's leadership was either dead or in custody, the hostages were safe, and the fires were beginning to die down as emergency crews worked to contain the damage. Tara and I were making our way toward the exit when the attack came from behind—silent, swift, and deadly. I heard the whisper of displaced air a split second before pain exploded across my abdomen. A curved blade, wielded by a Brotherhood operative who had been playing dead among the bodies, sliced through my tactical vest and into the muscle beneath with surgical precision. "Hunter!" Tara's scream cut through the night air as I stumbled forward, my hands instinctively moving to my stomach where warmth was spreading beneath my fingers. Fuck I thought not again. The operative—a woman with wild eyes and Brotherhood tattoos covering her arms—raised her bloodied knife for a second strike, her face twisted with fanatical rage. "For the na

What Love Looks Like Hunter pov Three days after the warehouse battle, I was finally cleared for discharge from the hospital. The morning sun streamed through the windows of my room as I carefully pulled on a clean shirt, mindful of the still-tender stitches across my stomach. The worst of the pain had faded, replaced by the duller ache of healing tissue and the restless energy of someone who had spent too many days confined to bed. Tara sat cross-legged on the unmade hospital bed, organizing the small pile of personal items we had accumulated during my stay—flowers from well-wishers, books she'd read aloud to me during my recovery, and the tablet containing dozens of messages from pack leaders across the country expressing their gratitude for ending the Brotherhood threat. "Ready to go home?" she asked, looking up from her task with the kind of smile that made my chest tighten with emotion. I never thought she smile at me again. "More than ready," I replied, moving to sit b