Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Wolf Who Chose Me: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

Chapter 11 — The First BlowThe full moon hung like a blade above the Blackthorn territory—bright, sharp, and watching.Ezra felt it before the howls came. Not a sound. A pressure. A weight pressing into his chest like the night itself had grown teeth.He was in the courtyard, sweat soaking through his shirt despite the cold, fists wrapped tight. Kael’s voice rang out behind him—gruff but focused.“Faster. Again. Don’t just swing—feel your wolf.”Ezra rolled his eyes but threw another punch. The training dummy rocked on impact. His muscles ached, but there was rhythm now. Flow. Like maybe—just maybe—his wolf had stopped fighting him and started… moving with him.Then came the howl.Low. Long. Not Blackthorn.Everything froze.Alric, mid-step, tensed like a wire pulled too tight.Kael’s head snapped toward the ridge. His posture changed—no more coach, no more calm. Just a predator, still and deadly.Ezra’s stomach twisted.“They’re here… right?”Kael’s voice was quiet, clipped. “Yeah.”

The snow fell like ash, soft and constant, blanketing the Blackthorn Estate in silence. But beneath the quiet, something felt wrong. The kind of wrong you didn’t hear—you felt it in your spine, in the hush of too many people not saying what they were thinking.Ezra stood by the window of the war room, arms folded tight across his chest. The mark on his arm hadn’t stopped pulsing since the visions on the cliff. It was like it had its own heartbeat now—hot, alive, waiting. And everyone could feel it. Even if they didn’t look at him directly, even if no one dared say it out loud, the weight in the air said it for them:Something’s coming. And he’s the reason why.Kael was next to him, not speaking, just there. He’d barely left Ezra’s side since that night. Not when the elders had pulled him into private talks. Not when Alric said—right in front of Ezra—“Pick your duty or your heart, Kael, before we all pay for it.”Kael hadn’t answered. He’d just looked at Ezra. And stayed.The war room

The storm hit just after midnight—no thunder, no warning. Just a sharp, roaring wind and rain that tore into Blackthorn like the sky was trying to wash it clean. Ezra stood on the ridge overlooking the courtyard, drenched, the cold cutting through his clothes like knives. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Couldn’t.The fire in his chest burned hotter than the storm.His mark pulsed, steady and loud, thudding like a second heartbeat under his skin. Louder than the rain. Louder than the whispers.He felt them—every glance, every breath held when he walked past. The younger wolves recoiled like he was made of glass and gunpowder. The elders suddenly had meetings they’d never mentioned before. Even Mira, bold and unfiltered, kept her words clipped and her distance longer.Ezra didn’t blame them. Not anymore.A week ago, he was just another omega trying to find his footing. Now?He was something else. A gate. A key. A question none of them wanted to answer.“Thought I’d find you up here,” Kae

Dawn broke over Blackthorn like a bruise—bleeding gold and gray across the sky, raw and unkind. No warmth, just light peeling back the dark, showing everything for what it was: cracked, tired, and on edge.Ezra stood in the courtyard with both boots buried in mud, steam curling around his ankles as if the ground itself couldn’t sit still. His cloak snapped in the wind. The estate behind him felt quiet—not peaceful, but tight. Wound-up. Waiting.His mark burned in his skin like a second pulse—not screaming, not raging anymore. Just there. Present. Like it had finally stopped seeing him as a vessel and started recognizing him as something more.The pack formed a loose ring around him. Not close. Not far. Watching. Mira stood near the gates, her hand resting near the hilt of her sword, eyes flicking between the horizon and Ezra’s face. Two scouts—Jorrin and Lysa—hovered to her right, tension bristling off their shoulders. Kael leaned against the stone steps with his arms crossed, face un

The forest wasn’t silent when they left the ruins. It was listening.Ezra felt it the moment his boots touched the mossy path. The trees didn’t sway—they stood still, rigid, like soldiers at attention. The air didn’t move; it hovered. Every snapped twig echoed louder than it should’ve. Every breath he took felt like a trespass.He didn’t speak on the way back to Blackthorn. Not because he didn’t have the words—he had too many. But he didn’t trust what might come out if he opened his mouth. Rage? Grief? Power?Maybe all three.His body felt full. Not bloated, not aching—just… dense, like his skin was stretched over something ancient and alive. Like sealing that tomb hadn’t closed a door, but cracked open something inside him. The god-wolf wasn’t snarling anymore. It wasn’t pacing. It was waiting. And worse—it was listening back.Sometimes, when Ezra inhaled too deeply, it felt like he wasn’t the only one breathing.Kael stayed close. Not clingy, not smothering—just present. His shoulde