Semua Bab Marked by the Alpha: Blood Oath: Bab 11 - Bab 19

EliThe rotting wood around the window crumbles under my desperate fingers.I've been clawing at it for what feels like hours, prying at the rusted screws with the jagged edge of a splintered chair leg. Every muscle screams. Every heartbeat pounds like a war drum in my skull. Cold sweat slicks my skin, but I can't stop. Won't stop.The first screw gives and something vicious and hopeful unfurls in my chest. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, tasting copper, forcing myself to work slow. One careful turn at a time.The bolt scrapes against the door and my blood turns to ice.No. Not now. Please, fuck, not now.The door explodes inward.Ronan fills the frame like a nightmare made flesh. His black shirt hangs open, revealing the intricate tattoos that map his chest like battle scars. Sweat dampens his dark hair, making it stick to his temples. But it's his scent that hits me like a physical blow. It floods the cabin, seeps into my lungs, makes my wolf cower and keen.I stumble back

RonanThey scatter when I dismiss them. Jace lingers just long enough to meet my eyes, his stare a quiet question, before he too steps away.The fire spits and pops in the quiet that follows. I stand at the head of the table, fingers tapping once on the scarred wood before I draw my knife free of its sheath. The blade gleams orange in the light. I press it flat against my palm, feeling the bite of metal against calloused skin. Not enough to cut. Not yet.He surprised me.That soft-spined, pretty, omega exterior of his hides steel. He stood in front of my council and didn't beg. He came out with the truth when pressed. Raw and jagged, but hiding nothing. The breeding pens. The punishments. I’ve seen them for myself. It’s cruelty beyond even what I’m prepared to dish out.And he not only survived them with his angelic face and tempting body. He quietly rebelled. Planned and executed his escape.I close my eyes, let the memory of him fill my head. The curve of his throat beneath my

JaceThe night air is sharp, biting through my jacket like frozen knives as I lean against the lodge's railing.Below, the clearing hums with low conversation. Wolves moving like shadows between the cabins, their voices a constant murmur of pack politics and territorial disputes. My eyes track one shadow in particular. He’s stacking the last of the crates, shoulders tight as a coiled spring, movements clipped and precise. He's still rattled from being hauled before the council. I can smell it on him, sharp and bitter, like a fox backed into a corner with nowhere left to run.I rub a hand over my jaw, the old scar at my chin pulling tight. A reminder of the night I earned my place at Ronan's side. Ronan was right to bring him in, even if the council hates it with every fiber of their being. An omega marked by the Alpha means less trouble from rival packs, not more. Protection through possession. But looking at him now, watching the way he flinches at every sound, I can't shake the

RonanThe office smells of smoke, old leather, and blood dried into the cracks of the wood.Maps sprawl across the table, overlapping in layers of scars and borders. Knives pin the corners down. Each mark is a choice I’ve made. Each line a wound. Blackthorn territory stretches wide, but beyond it lies Redmaw country. The shadow in the trees, always pushing, always testing. Looking for a way to take what’s ours.Mara stands at my shoulder, braid swinging as she leans in. Her eyes are sharp as flint in the lamplight, catching every detail. “The scouts have reported seeing three of them. Claw marks in the bark to mark their path. Fresh tracks in the snow.”I drag my finger across the northern ridge. “Here?”She nods. “Past the old watchtower. Bold little bastards.”My jaw tightens. “They’re looking for weaknesses.”Her nails click against the table edge, restless. “So what are you going to do about it?”I straighten slowly, the lantern light throwing my shadow tall across the wall. “W