Lahat ng Kabanata ng Mated To The Cursed Alpha : Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

I return to pack lands as the sun is just starting to move toward the horizon. The drive was a haze, my mind too caught up in Harry's face and that flawless control and the awfulness of it all to pay much attention to the drive itself.Rylan stands on my porch when I pull up. Naturally he would."Supplies again?" he asks, voice falsely calm as I come out of the car."Something along those lines.""Humor me. You're driving into town almost every day now, but I've never seen you come back with so much as a bag of supplies." He gets up and crosses his arms. "Want to let me in on what's really going on?""Not particularly." I move around him to the door, but he stops me."Zara. I'm your brother. And I'm not an idiot." His voice cracks a little. "You've been odd since you got better. Distracted. Sneaking out at strange times. Returning and looking like—" He waves his hand at my face. "Like that.""Like what?""Like a person who's been making out with someone and then freaking out over it."

The witch's name was Morgana, and she'd stolen from my father.Not money or territory or anything reasonable that could be negotiated. She'd taken something far more valuable: information about pack vulnerabilities, security protocols, the locations of safe houses we used for injured wolves. Information that could get pack members killed if it reached the wrong hands.Father wanted it back. Wanted her dealt with quietly, efficiently, before word spread that the Draven pack could be compromised so easily. And he'd assigned the task to me, his younger son, the one desperate to prove himself worthy of the family name.I was twenty-seven. Arrogant. Convinced that my Alpha strength and Father's training made me invincible.I was an idiot."You're sure she's in there?" Dexter asked from beside me. We were crouched in the alley behind Russo's, a bar on the outskirts of town that catered to supernatural clientele. The kind of place where questions weren't asked and violence was handled intern

"What a wonderful story."The voice comes from the edge of the clearing, smooth and amused. We all turn to see a figure stepping out of the shadows, hands in his pockets, wearing a smile that doesn't match the tension in the air.Harry.Zara makes a sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. Her face drains of color as she stares at the man she watched die years ago."Thank you for helping with a very great epilogue," Dexter says, his tone conversational despite the sudden appearance. "Because I didn't really know what to reply to him with, considering he wouldn't have been dead by now if he was really the killer." He tilts his head, studying the newcomer with predatory interest. "But wait a sec, who are you?""Hey," I say, my voice hard as steel. "I definitely killed you."Harry's smile widens. "Yeah, you really did. Only that was Harry." He gestures to his body like it's a suit he's borrowed. "But don't worry, just call me Harry. The name is kinda cute, honestly. I transferred my

Three hours into research and we have nothing.Mira's books are spread across every surface in the cabin, ancient texts in languages I can't read mixing with modern grimoires and handwritten notes. Sage has been chanting diagnostic spells over strands of Zara's hair, trying to pull residual magical signatures from her encounters with fake-Harry.And I'm reading the same passage about soul transfer for the fourth time without retaining a single word."This is useless," I say, pushing back from the table. "We're looking for a needle in a haystack when we don't even know what the needle looks like.""Then we narrow down the haystack." Dexter appears in the doorway holding three coffee cups. He's been on the phone for hours, pacing the porch, voice too low to overhear. "Coffee. Drink. You're all getting stupider from exhaustion.""Gee, thanks," I mutter, but I take the cup. The coffee is strong enough to strip paint, exactly what I need."Any luck with your contacts?" Mira asks."Define l

The pack is waiting when we return. Every senior member crowded into the main cabin, tension thick enough to taste. Rylan stands the moment we enter, reading our faces for information."Well?" he demands."We have a name." Dexter moves to the center of the room, commanding attention without effort. "James Thorne. Younger brother of Thomas Thorne, beta of the East Side Pack. The pack that was systematically destroyed three years ago by a psychotic Alpha named Robert Cross.""I remember hearing about East Side," Sage says quietly. "The rumors were... disturbing.""The reality was worse." I settle into a chair, exhaustion finally catching up. "Robert cursed their pack bonds. Made it so feeling loyalty or love caused physical pain. The pack tore itself apart trying to escape the agony."The room goes silent. Pack bonds are sacred to werewolves. The idea of them being weaponized is fundamentally horrifying."James watched his entire pack destroy itself," Dexter continues. "Watched his brot