Semua Bab Alpha’s Enemy, Alpha’s Mate: Bab 1 - Bab 10

“You still wear the scar I gave you.” The voice cut through the music and chatter like a blade. Aiden stiffened, champagne glass halfway to his lips. He turned, and there he was, Dante Veyron. Leaning against the bar as if he owned it, golden eyes glinting, smirk sharp enough to draw blood. The rooftop gala glittered around them. Fairy lights draped across the skyline, crystal glasses clinked, humans laughed, utterly oblivious that two Alpha heirs were circling each other like predators. Aiden’s grip tightened on his glass until it nearly cracked. “Funny. I thought you’d learned shame after the last time I beat you.” Dante chuckled, low and cruel. “Lost? No. I let you feel like you’d won. There’s a difference.” The words slid under Aiden’s skin like claws. He took a deliberate step closer, close enough that their shoulders brushed, voice low enough for only Dante to hear. “Push me, Veyron, and I’ll.” “You’ll what?” Dante leaned in, his breath brushing Aiden’s ear. “Snarl at me u

Morning came with pain. Aiden woke stiff and sore, his shoulder wrapped in a makeshift bandage that reeked of sweat and rust. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was—then the cracked walls and broken windows of the warehouse reminded him. And worse, so did the quiet breathing across the room. Dante. The rival heir sat cross-legged by the door, golden eyes half-lidded but alert, like he hadn’t slept at all. Even battered, with blood dried at his lip and his shirt ripped to threads, he looked infuriatingly composed. Aiden pushed himself upright, a hiss escaping before he could stop it. Dante’s gaze snapped to him. “You’re alive,” Dante said dryly. “Don’t sound so disappointed.” A slow smirk curved Dante’s mouth. “Not disappointed. Just surprised. You bleed easier than I thought.” Aiden’s temper sparked. “Careful. Keep talking and I’ll show you just how soft I’m not.” For a heartbeat, golden eyes gleamed with something sharp amusement, challenge, maybe something darker before

The conference room stank of stale coffee and frustration. Maps covered the table, red circles marking rogue activity. Reports stacked high beside half-drained glasses of water. The weight of too many sleepless nights hung in the air. Aiden leaned over the table, stabbing his finger at the map. “They’re pushing toward the river. If we don’t cut them off now, they’ll carve a path straight through Midtown.” Across from him, Dante leaned back lazily in his chair, golden eyes glinting under the overhead lights. “And if we charge in now, we’ll be walking into their ambush. They want us desperate.” “So your plan is what?” Aiden snapped. “Sit back and let them run over us?” “My plan,” Dante drawled, “is to not be an idiot. You strike fast, you burn out. You wait, you win.” Aiden’s jaw clenched. His wolf snarled, restless. “Funny. I thought Alphas led from the front, not from a leather chair.” For a heartbeat, the room went still. Dante’s smirk widened. Then he leaned forward, bracing

The city devoured scandal like blood in the water.By dawn, the kiss was everywhere. Every news site, every gossip feed, every pack forum. Grainy photos splashed across front pages: Dante’s hand gripping Aiden’s waist, Aiden fisting Dante’s shirt, mouths locked in fire.“Forbidden Heirs Exposed!”“Peace Pact or Secret Affair?”“Blackthorn Weakness: Love or Betrayal?”Wolves whispered in bars, in boardrooms, in streets. Some laughed. Others sneered. A few—too few—looked curious.At the Blackthorn estate, the council chamber was a furnace.Elders lined the long oak table, faces grim. Adrian sat at the head, fury controlled only by the tightness of his jaw. Aiden sat rigid at his side, sweat slick on his palms.“Do you understand what you’ve done?” one elder snapped. “The packs are calling this a circus. How can we follow an heir who makes a mockery of our alliance?”Another growled, “This was a mistake from the start. Blackthorns and Veyrons cannot unite.”Their words cut, but none hurt

The council chamber smelled of blood and suspicion.Aiden sat stiff at the long oak table, the wound on his arm hidden beneath a fresh bandage. His father loomed at the head, flanked by elders whose expressions were carved from stone. On the opposite side, Lucien Veyron sat like a shadow, golden eyes cold as winter.Between them, silence crackled.Finally, Elder Morrell broke it. “Another attack. Rogues, yes—but in Veyron colors. This is not a coincidence.”Murmurs rippled. Eyes slid toward Dante.Aiden’s chest tightened. He could still feel the fight in his bones—the rogues’ claws, the heat of Dante’s back against his, the way they’d fought in sync like two halves of a whole. He wanted to defend him. Wanted to scream.But his father’s warning echoed: You may never be ready to lead.Dante lounged in his chair, golden eyes glinting with lazy defiance. “If I’d ordered the hit, Blackthorn wouldn’t be sitting here breathing.”“Convenient defense,” Elder Morrell snapped.Lucien’s gaze was