Lahat ng Kabanata ng Marked by the Alpha: Blood Oath: Kabanata 151 - Kabanata 160

Eli The whole lodge smells like roasted meat and cedarwood polish, which is code for something important’s happening, and I’m expected to sit still for it.Too bad I’ve never been much good at that.Ronan’s beside me at the long table, sharp and quiet in a charcoal tunic that buttons all the way up to his throat. He looks delectably formidable. Darkness made flesh. His hand rests on the bench between us, a single finger hooked just barely across my thigh, a leash in gesture more than grip. I could slip free any time I want.Obviously, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to play.I stretch with a theatrical sigh, letting my knee brush his under the table. Then I hook it over his, rubbing the inside of my calf along his leg as though I’m just shifting to get comfortable.Ronan doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. But his finger curls harder into the meat of my thigh, and his jaw ticks once.That’s one point to me. I can do better than that.“I still don’t know why we have to do thes

HazelJace’s silence isn’t new. It’s not like he’s ever been chatty, but this silence is different.It’s not the quiet aloofness I’ve grown used to. What I think of as his commander-mode, all discipline and distance, that careful detachment he wears like armor. No. This is worse. This is him looking straight through me.Avoiding my eyes during briefings. Turning away the second I enter the room. Cutting short drills if there’s only a few of us in attendance. He’s never done that before.It’s so subtle that no one else seems to notice, but I do, and it gnaws at me.I spend most of morning training half convinced I’ve done something wrong. Overstepped my bounds somehow, or disappointed him in some way. But there’s no reprimand. No tension in his jaw that says I’ve screwed up my form or disrespected a command.He just won’t look at me. Like the mere act would unravel something inside of him.Eli notices by midday. Which is later than I expect him to , because that bastard notices everyth

EliThe hall is full of wolves I’ve never met before.Allied packs, summoned for what the council is politely calling “an affirmation of strength.” Which is diplomatic code for, if Silvercrest breathes wrong, we bite first.There’s food, of course. Roasted venison basted in honeyed wine. Black bread and fresh butter. Bowls of root mash shot through with wild garlic. I can barely taste any of it. The scent of dominance and calculation is stronger than the meat.I’m on my best behavior tonight, which means I haven’t needled anyone yet.Ronan is beside me at the head table, dressed in ceremonial black and gold, radiating Alpha authority. It’s very hot and I can’t wait for this ordeal to be over so we can go back to our hut.I swirl my wine lazily, eyes tracking the room like a bored cat watching birds. Delegates from all our closest neighbors are here. All sniffing around, trying to decide whether to double down on their Blackthorn allegiance… or tuck tail and slink toward Silvercrest if

HazelHis voice loops like a tether I keep wrapping around my own throat. No smile. No softness. Just that hard line of a mouth cutting me open and telling me I did well.My body keeps moving, but it’s all for him.I run the pattern the way he drilled it into me. Four-count approach, outside angle, shoulder feint, cut to the ribs. I feel the ground the way he taught me to, with the arches not the toes, softness first and then the drive. I hear him, even though he isn’t here.His mouth moves with the words in my head, and that’s where I make my first mistake, letting myself picture it.I know the shape too well. The cut of his lip when he’s unimpressed. The clean bracket of his teeth when he bites down on temper and swallows it. The way the corner quirks when someone does something that fits the blueprint he drew in his head.I finish the sequence and reset, palm slick against the hilt of my dagger. If I squint, I can see the exact place he stood yesterday when he said it, arms folded,

KieranWe ride hard to get back to Silvercrest. Eating cold meals and barely sleeping three hours every night. I left the coaches, and half the guards, to travel back at a more reasonable pace. The rest of us are pushing ourselves and our mounts to the limit.Running as wolves would be faster, but father doesn’t like us acting like animals.Every mile the gnawing certainty that Father is already plotting gets more urgent.I know it before I see the walls of Silvercrest, before the guards salute me at the gate. He won’t sit idle after I let him know I’d be returning without Eli.The temptation not to tell him until I arrived home in person was strong. But he’d see that as betrayal and keep me in the dark about his next move.He will be making other plans, darker ones, and I hope, naively in all probability, that if I get back quickly enough, I can stop him.If I can just put myself in front of him before the ink dries on whatever vile scheme he concocts, I can steer him from the brink.