All Chapters of Marked in the Middle: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The morning after the siege was a silence that felt wrong. Not peaceful — just empty. The kind of quiet that settles after too much has been broken to make noise anymore. Smoke still rose from the ruins, and the scent of blood clung to everything.I stood on what was left of the ridge, the wind cold against my face. The forest below was blackened, charred to the bone. We’d held the line, but it hadn’t felt like victory. It felt like a delay.Kael was down by the medic tents, his hands stained with dirt and blood that wasn’t all his. He’d barely slept — none of us had. When his eyes found mine, I saw it there: that same exhaustion buried under steel. The unspoken knowledge that this was only the beginning.I climbed down to him, stepping over broken debris and burned-out rifles. The survivors moved like ghosts — quiet, methodical, hollow-eyed. They didn’t need orders anymore. Survival had become routine.“How bad?” I asked.Kael didn’t look up from the wounded wolf he was tending. “Twe

The rain came late that night—slow and steady, like the sky was finally mourning what the world had lost.By then, the valley had gone quiet. The smell of blood clung to the air, heavy and metallic. Smoke rose from what was left of the Silver Ash’s encampment, curling through the ruins like ghosts that refused to leave. The fires had stopped burning, but their glow still haunted the horizon, painting the clouds a sickly orange.I stood in the middle of it all, my body aching, my hands raw and streaked with dirt and blood that wasn’t all mine. Around me, the survivors were moving through the wreckage, gathering the wounded, whispering the names of the fallen.Everywhere I looked, faces I’d known were gone.Roman was somewhere near the ridge, directing the cleanup in silence. His voice—usually sharp and commanding—was quieter now, like the war had drained something from him. Kael and Lira were with the search teams, trying to locate whoever was still breathing under the rubble.And me?

The night was restless—like the world itself couldn’t decide whether to breathe or burn. Clouds shifted fast over Viremont’s ruined skyline, casting jagged shadows through the broken windows of the safehouse. Inside, the air was heavy with gun oil, wolf scent, and the weight of what was about to happen.Nora hadn’t slept in two nights. Her eyes burned, but her mind wouldn’t stop. Maps, routes, weak points—all circled, rewritten, and rethought. She could hear Kael in the next room, pacing, muttering under his breath. His wolf was close to the surface now. Everyone was.They were outnumbered. Outarmed. But not out of options.The Iron Moon Summit was happening tonight. The Alphas of the north, the Council remnants, the rogue leaders—they’d all gathered to form a new order. A world without “rogues.” Without anyone like Nora.She leaned over the table, tracing the plan with trembling fingers. “If we hit them before the oath is sealed, we still have a chance.”Roman stood behind her, his p

The wind over Viremont carried the smell of smoke, steel, and something older—something that made even the night hold its breath. The fires had died down, but the ruins of the Iron Moon Summit still pulsed faintly, as if the stones themselves were remembering what had happened.Nora sat by the broken balcony of what used to be the council chamber, knees drawn to her chest, staring at the jagged moon reflected in a puddle of ash and rainwater. Her mark had stopped burning hours ago, but she could still feel it—like a heartbeat that wasn’t hers.Every few seconds, it throbbed in rhythm with something beneath the city.She didn’t tell the others. Not yet.Roman approached from behind, his footsteps careful, as though afraid to break her focus. He didn’t speak right away. Just stood there with his arms folded, his gaze following hers out toward the quiet ruins.Finally, he said, “You haven’t moved since dawn.”“I didn’t notice,” she

The silence after war is the worst kind of noise.Not because it’s empty—but because it’s full of ghosts.Three days after the fall of the Vale stronghold, Viremont was still choking on smoke. Every step through the ruins echoed with memory. Every alleyway looked like a scar that refused to heal. I’d walked through death before, but this was different—this time, it wasn’t just bodies we buried. It was what we believed in.Kael and I had made camp in what was left of the western ridge—a shattered observatory that overlooked the valley. The view should’ve been beautiful. Instead, the horizon looked like it had been bled dry.He was patching up his arm with what was left of our medical kit, muttering curses under his breath. “I told you,” he said finally, not looking at me. “We should’ve left after the fire. You’re still walking like your bones forgot how to move.”I smirked faintly, though the ache in my ribs almost made me bite my tongue. “You’