บททั้งหมดของ Four Times Rejected, Destined for The Throne: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

With every creeping day, the grand event in Blue Moon drew inexorably closer. The anticipation was electric, not just within our small team but across the entire werewolf community worldwide. Social media was ablaze with posts and discussions, with every pack speculating about what our first-ever show exclusively for werewolves would entail. No humans were allowed, a deliberate choice that created an air of exclusivity and pride. This event was a celebration of our own, a showcase of our unique culture and strength. The enthusiasm of Amy, Jor, and even Margie was so infectious that I almost forgot my original plan, to seek revenge on the Alpha of Blue Moon. Up until now, he had not shown or said a word, which was a confirmation that he had no regrets about the rejection he had given me. A bitter hatred gripped my heart whenever I thought of his cold-bloodedness but knowing that I would have my chance to sh

Amy’s Point of View still From that moment on, Alpha Henrich was a different man. The rigid, unapproachable demeanor he had previously maintained had vanished completely, replaced by a constant, gentle smile that seemed to have found a permanent home on his lips. His eyes, once a deep and serious blue, now sparkled with a perpetual happiness that lit up his entire face. Everyone noticed the change. The models, who had initially been wary, now approached him with caution, testing the waters before engaging him in conversation. It was clear they sensed the shift in his energy, a warmth that hadn't been there before. During the training sessions, his eyes constantly sought me out, lingering on me with a clear, possessive gaze. Whenever he had a moment to spare, he would walk up to me and stand by my side, taking my hand in his as if he had a constant, physical need to touch me.

Anna’s Point of View Jor was in heat. That simple fact added a whole new, complicated dimension to her situation. In our world, being in heat meant that a she-wolf had met her fated mate and that they had accepted each other. But that made her story so confusing because there were strong indications that she was still involved with Manager Andrew. A secret lover and a fated mate! The two truths simply couldn't exist at the same time, and the gnawing sense of dread I felt told me this conflict was a recipe for disaster. "Anna, Anna, it's so hot inside me. I can't bear this any longer," Jor groaned as Amy and I held her by each arm and carried her towards one of the vacant apartments. "My wolf is tearing me apart from the inside! She wants to mate!" A wave of sheer terror passed between Amy and me as our eyes met. We were completely out of our depth. Both of us

Ettire was practically buzzing with nervous energy, like he couldn’t sit still. He kept shifting in his seat, fidgeting nonstop, while I stayed perfectly still, calm, detached, like I couldn’t care less. He had a thousand questions swirling in his head, all the things he hadn’t planned for, hadn’t seen coming. That cool, dismissive front he’d put on when he pushed me away was totally gone. What was left now was unmasked urgency, no filter, no control. He tried again and again to capture my attention. His hand strayed toward mine on the tabletop, a series of feigned, accidental brushes against my fingers, fleeting attempts to bridge the chasm between us. I kept my hand clenched in my lap, hidden beneath the flowing fabric of my dress, refusing to give him even the smallest acknowledgment. He had severed the bond between us, not in the usual, expected way but with a brutal finality, handed down with unsettli

Hidden in the darkest corners of the luxurious space, Atticus watched Anna closely. He stood perfectly still, a lone, dark silhouette against a backdrop of shimmering silks and flashing cameras. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, incense and the excited chatter of a thousand wolves, but he was aware of none of it. His focus was a singular, burning point: her. His simple black suit made him a phantom in a room of vibrant color, and his face was a chiseled mask of concentration. Every muscle was tense, a coiled spring of controlled power. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, were locked on her figure sitting at the VIP table. He was not merely looking, he was absorbing her, reading her every subtle shift in posture, every minute change in her expression. He noticed the tiny, tell-tale signs of her unease. The way her lips were pressed into a thin line, the slight tensing o