All Chapters of Alpha Kael And The Crimson Bloodline : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The night pressed heavy over Ashwood, its silence broken only by the restless sighs of the forest. A pale moon cut through the treetops, silvering the ground where Kael stood, arms crossed, eyes hard as granite. Across from him, Marek waited in composed stillness, his cloak brushing the dirt, his face half-hidden in shadow. Violet lingered between them, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her sleeve, her violet eyes flaring faintly with the remnants of her spell.Kael’s voice broke the stillness, low and sharp.“Will you help us, Marek?”For a long moment, Marek said nothing. His gaze lingered on the treeline as if weighing the very air before he turned back to Kael. “For now, yes. But understand this—” His tone hardened. “Rhea’s greatest threat isn’t Varek. It’s Eloria. The prophecy binds her. The Grand Magestress will never let her go, not while she breathes. If you wish to save her, Alpha, you must do more than fight Varek. You must find a way to take her far from Eloria’s re

The farmhouse was silent.Rhea pressed her back against the cold stone wall, every nerve in her body trembling. She had watched the guards for days, memorizing their steps, their lazy voices, their carelessness. And finally—tonight—there was a gap.Her chance.She slipped through the door, bare feet brushing against the rough wooden floor. The air outside hit her skin, sharp and fresh compared to the stale stink of the farmhouse. For a moment she just breathed it in—freedom.Then she ran.Her legs carried her faster than she thought they could, dress whipping around her knees, hair flying wild. The trees stretched tall above her, leaves whispering as if urging her forward. She leapt across roots, stumbled through thorns, scraped her palms on branches—but she didn’t stop.Every step pushed her closer to Ashwood.Closer to Kael.The thought lit a fire inside her chest. Her heart hammered, her breath burned, but she kept going. The taste of freedom was almost real—she could see rooftops

The forest had gone still. Not the ordinary hush of midnight, but a suffocating silence that pressed on the lungs, heavy and unnatural.Varek rose from the ground in fits and jerks, like a corpse pulled upward by unseen strings. The wounds that Kael had carved into him closed in seconds, flesh knitting with a wet, crawling sound. His chest no longer heaved with breath. His body simply… functioned.And his eyes—those golden wolf eyes were gone. In their place burned a void so black it seemed to drink the firelight around it, with faint embers smoldering in the center like dying coals.Kael’s hands curled into fists at his sides, every fiber of his Alpha instinct screaming to strike, to end it. But something deeper—older than instinct—warned him to hold still. His jaw flexed, but he did not move.Fenrak had no such control. He stepped forward, a snarl on his lips, only for his own legs to falter, as if some primal terror had locked his muscles in place. His fists trembled at his sides,

The Draven Estate loomed at the edge of Ashwood like a relic of another age. Its stone walls rose against the night, weathered and scarred, but unbroken, like the man who called it home. As Kael led them inside, the heavy oak doors groaned against their hinges, opening into a vast hall lit only by the flicker of a dozen torches. Shadows crawled across the ceilings, curling into the rafters like restless spirits.The moment they entered, Violet’s strength gave out. She collapsed against the carved banister, her breath shallow, her body trembling from the toll of their last battle. Her skin was pale, her lips nearly bloodless, and the faint burns from witchcraft still marred her arms.“Easy,” Kael muttered, catching her before she hit the floor. He lowered her carefully onto a velvet couch near the fireplace, his expression tight.Rhea rushed to her side, brushing strands of damp hair from Violet’s face. “She’s burning up,” she whispered.“She’ll live,” Kael said, though his tone carrie

The forest was dead quiet.No wind. No rustle. No sound but the slow crackle of energy still pulsing from Eloria’s staff. The light of her runes flickered faintly, casting ghostly reflections on the trees. The Order stood frozen — weapons raised, eyes scanning every shadow that moved between the twisted trunks.Then came the voice.Low. Drawn-out. Distorted, as though several throats spoke through one mouth.“Grand Magestress…”Marek turned instantly, sword drawn. His wolf snarled beside him, hackles raised. The remaining members of the Order shifted into formation, forming a half-circle around Eloria.From the darkness ahead, a figure stepped into view.Bare feet dragging through the mud. Clothes torn, soaked in blood. His eyes glowed faint red, but it wasn’t the color of life — it was the color of corruption.“Varek…” Eloria whispered.But it wasn’t really him.Something else stared through those eyes — something older, colder, and wrong.Marek moved immediately, planting himself be