Todos los capítulos de ALPHA BROTHERS WANT ME : Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

The blade was sharp now, too sharp. I’d spent the last thirty minutes running it along the whetstone again and again until the edge gleamed like frost. My fingers ached, knuckles scraped raw from where I’d slipped once. But I needed to feel something and the blade was the only thing that didn’t lie to me.The compound stirred around me, boots thudding on floorboards, voices murmuring in sharp bursts, and the distant crack of wooden staffs in the sparring pit signaling Crescent’s quiet preparation for Viktor’s inevitable coming.Rowan approached, his steps softer than Kael’s, quieter than Zane’s, yet carrying a steady presence as he sat beside me, placing a cloth-wrapped bundle on the bench, the faint scent of strawberry jam and honey rising from it as I paused my sharpening, my hands still gripping the whetstone.“Figured you hadn’t eaten,” Rowan said, leaning back slightly, his hands resting on his knees as he watched me, the morning light catching the soft lines of his face.Blinkin

I found Kael in the war room sitting on the oak table, one leg swinging casually, his arms resting loosely at his sides, sweat staining his collar and dried blood crusting his knuckles as I crossed the threshold, my boots scuffing the floorboards.My chest tightened from Elias’s warning, the air heavy with the truth of Viktor’s proximity, and I paused by the door, my fingers brushing the hilt of my dagger as Kael stood, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that stilled the room.Crossing the distance in three strides, Kael stopped just short of me, his presence commanding as he spoke. “What happened?”“I had a visitor,” I said, leaning against the table’s edge, my hands gripping the wood to steady myself as I met his gaze.“Who?” Kael asked, his body tensing as he stepped closer, his hands flexing at his sides.“Goes by the name Elias,” I said, the name dropping like a stone as I pushed off the table, standing straighter, my fingers still brushing the dagger’s hilt.Kael’s jaw

The sparring yard’s sand still clung to my boots as I loitered by the training post, my pulse racing from Zane’s kiss, Kael’s touch from earlier and Rowan’s quiet promises tangling within me. My body felt like it might split from the weight of their desires and my own, yet a reckless part of me welcomed the fracture.I wandered toward the med wing, my boots scuffing the dirt path, drawn by an instinct I couldn’t name. The scent of antiseptic and warm herbs enveloped me as I stepped inside, the quiet space meant for healing.I paused in the doorway, my hand resting on the frame as I spotted Rowan seated in a low armchair by the east window, his legs stretched out, one braced from a recent skirmish, his loose shirt damp with sweat, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a book open in his lap.Looking up, Rowan’s eyes met mine, a gentle smile curving his lips as he set the book down, his voice soft but certain as he spoke, his hands resting on his knees. “Is it selfish that I hoped you’d find me

When the alarm was raised, I was already on my feet, moving with Kael through the corridor just outside the temporary guest room we’d claimed hours ago. His shoulder brushed mine as we navigated the tight corners, neither of us speaking, both of us reading the shift in the air. It wasn’t chaos yet, but the balance had tipped. People were moving faster. Voices sharpened. The packhouse, with its creaking bones and fortified spine, had changed overnight from a haven to a hunting ground.I kept pace easily, tracking the sounds of booted feet slamming down the lower stairwell. The farther we got from the residential wing, the thicker the tension became, like the very walls knew that something unnatural had breached its edge.We reached the main hall where Jace was already shouting orders, sharp and clipped, directing scouts to cover blind spots Kael had mapped weeks ago. Rowan was near the west archway, pulling his hair back and securing it with a leather tie, his shirt half-buttoned and s

The first lead came at dusk, delivered by a scout who didn’t know he’d just given me a pulse of hope to chase.He hadn’t meant to say her name. But he had.Calla.He was recounting border patrol near the east glen, rambling more than reporting, mentioning a rogue female who’d passed through three days earlier—one with bright eyes and an unregistered scent, one who ran when approached but didn’t attack.“She had a mark,” the scout said, nervously tugging at the strap across his chest. “Not a bite. Looked old. Worn like it used to be part of something.”I asked what color her wolf was.He said dusk-gray, with white along the jaw and tail.My heartbeat stilled. That was my mother’s wolf form. At least, the one Viktor used to speak of when he wanted to remind me what I came from. He never said her name without venom, but he’d taught me her shape like a warning. Her wolf had been graceful, swift, clever enough to escape him once.I tucked the knowledge into my spine and made my way out of