All Chapters of Four Times Rejected, Destined for The Throne: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Anna’s Point of View still When we stepped into the club, every head in the room swiveled our way. Yes, we werewolves always stood out. Something in our quiet elegance, in the rhythm of how we carried ourselves, tugged at human senses before they even knew what they were drawn to. The women instinctively tightened their grips on their men, while the single patrons halted their conversations, giving us their undivided attention. Jor and Amy were clearly in their element, basking in the sudden spotlight, but for me, nah, my mood was far from joyful. The heartbreak from Ettire’s severance still ached like a wound too fresh to fade. I plastered a fake smile on my face, sure I would not ruin the evening for my friends, who were clearly ready to immerse themselves in the night’s distractions. Jor and Amy were quickly swept away by a couple of handsome human men. I knew they were safe, humans st

Anna’s Point of View still Seven days on the road, gone like smoke on the horizon. Honestly, the week had left its mark, a whirlwind of moments I won’t soon forget.After that night of clubbing, we stuck to our original plan, enjoying more of nature, camping around a bonfire, and chatting about everything except work. Of course, Margie’s disappearing acts had become a regular occurrence, we quickly understood that Beta Emile was picking her up occasionally to strengthen their bond. She always returned blissfully happy but hadn't yet felt the need to tell us about the progress in her relationship. I suspected she was afraid of plunging me back into a state of sadness with her cheerful tales about her wonderful connection with her werewolf mate, who just so happened to be the Beta of my ex-Alpha. “Hey, I feel rested and ready to tackle things again,” Jor confessed on our first day back at work.

‘This apartment is dreadful! Our woman deserves something that truly matches her status. I am so done with climbing drainpipes, I am a distinguished Alpha wolf, for Goddess sake!’ Slade was throwing a tantrum inside Atticus’s head, snarls of protest and irritation spilling over with each step they took along the shadowed, familiar route to Anna’s apartment. With practiced agility, he leaped from one balcony to the next, careful to avoid alerting any sleeping residents. Anna lived in a penthouse, fortunately, and the building wasn't overly tall, making the ascent relatively easy. Still, the secrecy of it all grated on Atticus, a constant annoyance for his powerful, unconstrained wolf. The Alpha paused on Slade’s words, caught in an uncharacteristic moment of reflection.He knew his wolf was right. They had been doing this for almost two months now, twice a week, sneaking out of the high-security prison in his private helic

Amy's posture went rigid, her spine a straight line as her eyes flashed with a volatile mix of hurt and anger. "Absent-minded? My judgment clouded? What are you even talking about?" she retorted, her voice trembling slightly, betraying how deeply Jor’s words had cut. "You dismissed these designs without even giving them a proper look! You offer the designers no credit, no guidance on how to correct their work, just destructive criticism that’s tearing down morale!" This was no longer a simple disagreement, it was a simmering resentment bubbling violently to the surface, rapidly escalating into a full-blown argument. My friends squared off like agitated roosters in a cockfight, with little tolerance or understanding evident between them. Both had been off since our return from the road trip, prone to snappish remarks, easily irritated, and quick to find fault. Their usually harmonious dynamic seemed to be unraveling at an

I suppose it was only natural for the scent to vanish amid the chaos. In a place so unruly, even the most distinct traces seemed to evaporate without ceremony. When we finally reached the corner bar, a dimly lit oasis away from the main dance floor where I knew the Hawk’s scent had been strongest, he was nowhere to be seen. The stools were occupied, the space crowded, but no glimpse of his distinctive presence. “Have you found him yet?” I asked Amy, trying to keep my voice neutral, injecting a carefully manufactured casualness into my tone. My own curiosity, however, burned beneath the surface as I covertly studied her reaction. Disappointment, stark and painful, rippled across her features as she shook her head slowly. Her eyes frantically scanned the dense crowd while her hopeful energy visibly drained away, replaced by a hollow, defeated look. “I would have sworn he was right here,” she