Semua Bab MARKED BY THE LONE ALPHA : Bab 1 - Bab 5

I stared at my reflection in the shattered mirror of a motel bathroom. Blood trickled down from my shoulder, soaking into the sleeve of my black hoodie. The pain throbbed like hell—but I was used to it.I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and muttered, “This back pain is killing me.”With a wince, I reached for my phone and dialed the number. As it rang, I peeked through the cracked door into the living room.Bodies littered the floor, limbs bent the wrong way. The furniture was splintered. Plates broken. Bullet holes in the walls. Smoke rose from a smoldering curtain fire.Another successful night.“Lea?”The familiar voice made me blink.“Already done,” I said coolly. “Now my salary. Send it.”I ended the call. No time for back-and-forth. No need for confirmation. The High Table always paid...eventually.I gave one last glance at the bodies and muttered, “You all gave me a hard time. You better be worth every single penny.”Then I bolted for the window.As my boots hit the fire es

There’s a silence that screams louder than any voice.And for the past few days, that silence had been living inside my head, clawing through the gaps in my memory like it owned the place.Something was missing—something important.And that was a problem.Not for most people, maybe. But when you're a government-trained killer with platinum status and a photographic memory, forgetting isn’t just suspicious—it’s lethal.“This is bad,” I muttered, staring blankly at my ceiling.Then the phone rang.Sharp, cold, and right on cue. The sound of a mission calling.I answered.“Details.”There was a pause. Not hesitation—just the kind that happens when someone’s trying to figure out how much they should say before you start asking questions they don’t want to answer.“Lea,” said the voice on the other end. It was Marrek. Old school, loyal to the High Table. “You’ve been one of our most valuable operatives.”That sentence alone made my skin crawl.“You’re stalling,” I snapped. “Spit it out.”

A howl tore through the night like it was trying to rip open the sky. Not a dog. Not a wolf. It sounded… wrong, deep and unnatural. Like a scream that had grown teeth. I sat up in bed, heart racing, knife already halfway out from under the pillow. Silence. I stared at the window. Trees, mist. Nothing. Then I rolled back onto the bed and muttered, “Who lets their emotional support bear out this late?” I closed my eyes. But I didn’t sleep. I waited. The next morning, I was dressed before the sun finished waking up. James, forever carved from old marble and unresolved trauma waited at my door. “The master will see you now,” he said. “Oh good,” I yawned. “Was worried I’d miss today’s 'Stare Like a Cult Leader’ meeting.” He didn’t blink. I’m convinced he doesn’t need to. The easy study was everything I expected. Dramatic bookshelves, unnecessary candles, and curtains so heavy they could double as body bags. Standing by the window, back perfectly straight like