All Chapters of Tempting the Alpha’s Father : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The rain had not stopped for two days. It drummed against the ruined stone like an army’s march, steady and unrelenting. Every drop seemed to whisper the same warning—they’re coming.Adrian heard it too. He stood at the outer wall, cloak soaked through, eyes fixed on the forest. “He’s close,” he murmured. “Lucas won’t wait any longer.”Emma joined him, pulling her hood tighter. The world smelled of pine and iron. “How many do you think?”“Too many,” he said quietly. “But numbers won’t save him if he doesn’t know the ground.”They had spent the past week preparing for this. Paths were disguised, false trails marked, warning bells hidden in the branches. The ruins had become a labyrinth that only Adrian could read.Still, Emma’s heart thudded with dread. Every time the wind shifted, she imagined the rustle of armor, the low growl of approaching wolves.By nightfall the mist thickened, and the first echoes reached them—sof

By the time they reached the southern border, dawn had burned away the mist, leaving the sky clear and pale. The air was warmer here, touched by the scent of cedar and salt from the distant coast. The land felt different—open, waiting—but Emma could sense the unease beneath its calm surface.Villages that once greeted travelers with open gates now barred their doors at night. Smoke rose from hearths, not beacons. The southern clans had learned to survive between loyalty and fear.Adrian stopped on the ridge overlooking the valley. “They’re watching us,” he said quietly. “Every eye, every whisper. They remember who I am, but they don’t know whether it’s safe to remember out loud.”Emma pulled her cloak closer. “Then we give them a reason to speak.”They approached the first settlement by mid-morning. The villagers scattered when they saw them, though not in panic—more like animals testing the wind before deciding whether to flee. Only one

Three days of restless quiet passed before the storm finally moved. Scouts came running through the southern valley at dawn, breath steaming in the cold air, mud splattering up their legs.“They’re marching,” one gasped. “Two columns—east and north. Corrin’s banners in the front.”The news spread faster than wind through dry grass. Within the hour, the clans were packing supplies, sharpening blades, and posting lookouts on the ridges. Every hammer strike, every shouted order echoed like a drumbeat of approaching war.Adrian stood at the center of the camp, maps pinned beneath stones on a makeshift table. Lyra hovered nearby, her cloak still wet from travel. Emma stayed beside her, listening to the rhythm of their planning, forcing herself to breathe through the rising panic.“They’ll reach the river in three days,” Lyra said, tracing the map with one gloved finger. “If they bridge it, the valley falls within a week.”Adrian nodded

The rain had not stopped for hours. It fell in sheets so heavy that even the loudest shouts barely carried more than a whisper through the storm. The southern valley, once quiet and serene, was now a battlefield cloaked in darkness, rain, and mud.Adrian stood atop the ridge, water running down his face, cloak plastered to his chest. Beside him, Emma gripped his arm tightly. “They’re close,” she said, her voice almost lost to the roar of the river and the wind.Adrian’s eyes scanned the flooding river below, noting every branch, every rock, every tree that could either aid them or endanger them. “Corrin is reckless,” he said. “He believes the storm will overwhelm us. But he underestimates the terrain—and underestimates me.”By nightfall, Corrin’s army had begun to push into the valley. Soldiers trudged through mud and water, banners dripping and torn. Lucas watched them silently from the high ground, teeth clenched, uneasy in his own position.“He

Grey clouds rolled across the sky, heavy with the promise of more rain. The valley had barely recovered from the last storm, yet the sound of marching feet was already returning.From the watchtower, Emma saw the distant shimmer of armor along the northern ridge. “They’re coming,” she said, voice tight.Adrian joined her at the window slit, eyes narrowing. “Corrin moves faster than I expected. He means to finish what he started.”Below them, the southern clans were already in motion—blacksmiths working at broken anvils, archers stringing new bows, healers laying out bandages in quiet determination. Every clang of metal was a heartbeat counting down to war.Lyra arrived with a bundle of damp papers clutched to her chest. “A messenger bird from the north,” she said. “Lucas sent this before Corrin realized the lines were compromised.”Adrian unfolded the note. The writing was hurried but clear:Corrin marches with three divi