All Chapters of Rise of the Alpha's King Rejected Mate : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The Weight of a CrownThe wind on Crescent Ridge was sharp that morning, carrying with it the scent of pine, earth, and wolves. Lyra stood on the rocky outcrop overlooking the valley, her cloak snapping behind her in the breeze. Below, Crescent Ridge stirred with life. Wolves sparred in the training fields, others reinforced their defenses, while scouts came and went with news from the borders.It should have filled her with pride—an Alpha, standing over her united pack. Yet, unease prickled in her chest.The night before, her wolf had stirred violently, restless beneath her skin. A gnawing dread, nameless yet suffocating, had followed her into her dreams. She had seen flames. She had seen shadows with eyes too bright, too cruel. And always, always, she had felt Lucian’s presence, like a serpent coiled just out of sight.Darius’s voice broke her thoughts. “You’re awake earlier than usual.”She turned, finding him behind her. His hair was damp from training, his shirt clinging to his c

The Ironfang ChallengeThe night air was sharp with anticipation, every breath heavy with smoke from the border fires. The Ironfang wolves gathered in a loose circle, their eyes gleaming amber in the darkness, their jeers echoing off the trees. Word had spread quickly, an outsider had come to challenge their Alpha. And not just any outsider: the Silver Wolf herself.Lyra stood at the center of the clearing, cloak shed, boots planted firmly on the dirt. The bond of Crescent Ridge tugged faintly at her chest, reminding her of what she had left behind, but she forced her focus forward. Tonight was not about her fear, or even her pride—it was about survival.“Bring him out,” she said, her voice ringing steady across the circle.The crowd parted, and a figure emerged. The Ironfang Alpha towered above the others, a mountain of muscle and scars, his wolf aura suffocating the air around him. His name was Garron—known for crushing rivals’ skulls with his bare hands, his reign earned in blood a

The Edge of the AbyssLucian watched the battlefield through the mirror of obsidian that floated before him. The glass pulsed faintly with dark light, rippling like disturbed water, replaying the image of Lyra’s silver fire devouring his Shadowborn.He didn’t move for a long while. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.The shadows in the room shifted uneasily, as though aware their master’s silence was far more dangerous than his rage.Finally, he exhaled a sound like wind moving through ancient bones.“She burns brighter than expected,” he murmured. His voice was soft, yet it carried through the stone hall, curling around the pillars like smoke. “Too bright for what she is supposed to be.”From the corner of the chamber, a figure stepped forward—Eryndor, his second-in-command. The dark general bowed low, his armor of blackened steel whispering faintly as he moved. “My lord, the Shadowborn performed as commanded. The Ironfangs lost nearly a quarter of their warriors before she turned the tide

The Ruins WhisperThe wind howled through the northern cliffs as Lyra led the small convoy of riders toward the Vale.Every hoofbeat echoed like a heartbeat against the stones. The path they followed had long been swallowed by moss and frost, the old world buried under centuries of silence.She kept her hood drawn low, her cloak snapping behind her like a banner. Rowan rode close to her left, his sharp eyes scanning the ridge lines. Behind them, a dozen Ironfangs followed hardened warriors who had seen too much death for their years. Yet even they fell quiet the closer they drew to the Vale.Lyra could feel it too, a heavy presence pressing at the edge of her senses. The air thickened, humming faintly, alive with whispers only she seemed to hear.You should not have come here…She clenched her jaw, refusing to let the unease show. “Keep your formation tight,” she called out. “No one wanders.”The wolves obeyed. Only Rowan leaned closer, his voice low. “You hear it too, don’t you?”Ly

Whispers Beneath the MoonThe wind was restless that night. It howled through the silverwood trees like a spirit that had lost its way, tugging at the hem of Lyra’s cloak as she stood at the edge of the cliff. The Vale spread out beneath her silent, wrapped in mist, its lakes glowing faintly under the half-moon.But she didn’t notice the beauty of it. Her heart was too loud, too uneasy. The pulse of the bond had been different tonight.It wasn’t a whisper like before, it was a scream.The moment it hit her, she’d dropped to her knees, hands clutching her chest as Lucian’s energy tore through her like fire and frost combined. For a heartbeat, she’d felt him — truly felt him. His anger, his loneliness, the hollow ache that used to be love.Even now, hours later, she could still taste it on her tongue.“Lucian…” she murmured, her breath forming a cloud in the cold air.She hated that his name still had weight. That even after everything — the blood, the betrayal, the darkness, it still