The Alpha king and the Hunt のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

Aria..... The corridor felt endless. My robe clung to my wet skin, every nerve on fire, and the remnants of heat still pulsed through me like a living thing. My wolf whimpered inside, restless, desperate, and I had nowhere to hide from it. Every shadow in the hall seemed to move, every footstep behind me making my skin crawl. Damien's refusal still rang in my ears. “Go back to where you came from.” I had stumbled to him, desperate, hands gripping his coat. My voice cracked with need, but his expression had been like a blade—painful, determined, unyielding. His wolf had pushed close to the surface, but even that had been controlled, restrained. He had walked away. He truly was cruel, they all were And I was left exposed, I was whimpering with need I had forgotten the way back to The Alpha king's chamber , my need was searing and I wanted to just die Every step back to the main hall felt like a mile. The air around me was thick, my scent saturating every inch of the corri

Aria......... The evening sun dipped low, painting the forest and the great halls of The Alpha king's domain in hues of molten gold and crimson. I followed cautiously, still wrapped in the soft warmth of the king's protective presence. Tonight was different. For the first time since i had been claimed by the king I would meet those who were closest to him—those who had always been in the shadows, moving unseen, striking unseen to say I wasn't scared would be an understatement. “Aria,” He said, his voice low, smooth, commanding, and I flinched ever so slightly. “These are my shadows and my Beta. They will be your allies now, and I expect you to show them respect.” Two figures stepped forward. The first was a woman, her hair dark as midnight, eyes sharp and unblinking. She moved like a panther, quiet and lethal. she looked every bit the warrior she was. The second, a man with a scar that ran jagged across his cheek, had a wolfish presence that made every hair on my arms rise. Bot

Kaelen’s POV) The stench of rogue blood still lingered in the halls. No matter how many torches the servants lit, no matter how many herbs were burned to mask it, I could smell it seared into the very stone. Death always clung to the aftermath of war. But it was not the blood of rogues that soured my wolf’s temper. It was betrayal. I stood at the head of the long table in the war room, maps unrolled across the surface, my shadows stationed silently in the corners like living weapons. Varric leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, waiting for me to speak. Aria’s scent still clung to me, sweet and maddening, but I shoved the distraction aside. For now. “This was no coincidence,” I said at last, voice low but carrying to every ear in the chamber. “The rogues knew too much. They moved with purpose, with coordination. That does not happen without guidance.” Lyra’s dark eyes glittered. “There is a traitor.” I inclined my head once. “Yes.” Kael shifted slightly, his scar pull

Aria’s POV.. The hours before dawn were a blur of movement, grief, and whispered arguments carried through the smoky air. Fires smoldered where the rogues had torn through, leaving half-charred beams and broken homes behind. Wolves rushed back and forth, binding wounds, gathering what little they could carry. Children clung to their mothers, eyes wide and hollow, while warriors limped, too proud to show how badly they were injured. I moved among them with my family, my cloak pulled tight against the night chill. The sky was still bright with starlight, but already the weight of change pressed down on all of us. For the first time, Damien’s pack—no, his former pack—moved not under his orders, but Kaelen’s. It did not sit well with everyone. As I passed near the outer wall, I heard the mutters. “She’s the one who convinced them.” “A servant girl who thinks herself a queen.” “If not for her, we would stand our ground.” Their words stung, though I told myself they wer

Kaelen’s POV — I stood on the balcony at dawn, winter light silvering the world. Beneath me, the fortress moved—soldiers running drills, servants hauling supplies, mothers corralling children whose eyes were too old for their faces. The watchers in the tower scanned the lines of trees beyond the outer palisade, but I already knew what lived there: not just rogues , but darkness. Aria’s voice haunted the edges of my mind. She had come to me with a report, a wild and terrified thing, and for reasons that should have been trivial—pride, habit, posture—I had hardened and turned her away. My silence was not because I was cruel or heartless; it was calculation. If I allowed my people to see me soft, to think my new found mate could be favored above duty, rumors would spread like wild fire. But the price of that calculation was her pain That hurt had been a blade pressed against me all week. Today, I would track the rogues, Tracking was a language my wolf learned before I did; his