Todos los capítulos de Alpha's Cursed Bride: Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

‎The clearing’s silence lingered as we left the ancient stones behind, the First Lycan’s words echoing in my mind: *Embrace all you are.* The forest path back to Moonshadow felt heavier now, the air thick with the promise of more battles, more darkness drawn to my blood. My hand rested on my stomach, the flutter of my child steady, a quiet strength that grounded me. I was Lycan, a mother, a healer, and the weight of my power—its light, its danger—was mine to carry. Rex walked beside me, his red eyes vigilant, his hand warm in mine, the bond between us pulsing, a lifeline through the uncertainty.‎‎The pack moved with us, Moonshadow and Ironclaw allies together, their steps steady, their voices low but strong. They’d seen me stop the dark wolves, felt the light of my blood, and their trust wrapped around me like a shield, even as fear gnawed at my heart. The First Lycan’s warning was clear—my power, my child’s power, would draw enemies, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for what came next

Chapter 24 ‎The Crimson Eclipse‎‎Talia‎‎The night had teeth.‎‎They sank into everything at once: into the sky, into the earth, into my skin. The eclipse swallowed the moon whole, and for one breathless heartbeat the world held no light at all. Then my blood answered.‎‎It started in my chest, a white-hot flare that tore outward in a ring of silver fire. The ring hit the oncoming tide of shadow-wolves and wraiths and whatever nameless things had crawled out of the veil, and where the light touched, darkness burned away like paper in a furnace. Screams rose (inhuman, ancient, furious), and the smell of scorched night rolled over the courtyard.‎‎I felt every death inside that ring the way a mother feels a kick in the womb. A jolt of sorrow, a flare of triumph, a sick twist of relief. They were dying were old, hungry things that had fed on pain for centuries, and I was ending them. I hated that it felt good.‎‎Rex’s roar rolled across the battlefield like thunder. He was alrea

‎ Chapter 26 ‎The Weight of Peace‎‎Talia‎‎Peace is heavier than war.‎‎I learned that in the weeks after the eclipse.‎‎The manor was whole again: windows repaired, walls scrubbed clean of blood, the courtyard blooming with wildflowers that had never grown here before. The pack thrived. Pups chased each other across the grass. Ironclaw visitors came and went freely, their laughter echoing through halls that had once known only silence and fear. Rowan and Lyra grew like weeds, shifting at will, tumbling over each other in fur and skin, red eyes bright with a joy I had never known as a child.‎‎And still, some nights, I woke gasping.‎‎The dream was always the same: the tear in the sky reopening, shadows pouring through, Rex’s roar cut short, my children’s voices swallowed by darkness. I would jolt upright, heart hammering, silver light flickering across my skin before I could control it. Rex was always there, arms around me before the light could flare too bright, his voice l

Chapter 28 ‎The Long Shadow‎‎Talia‎‎Ten years after the eclipse, the manor had become something I never dared dream of as a child: a place of noise, of warmth, of unbreakable bonds.‎‎The great hall rang with laughter every evening. Pups from allied packs trained in the courtyard alongside my own children. The forests were thick with game, the rivers full of fish, and the nights quiet enough that we left windows open to let in the breeze. Moonshadow had grown into a beacon—packs came from across the continent seeking alliance, healing, or simply the chance to see the Lycan queen who had closed the veil and ended the darkness.‎‎But queens carry crowns no one sees.‎‎I stood on the balcony of our chambers, watching the sun set behind the western ridge, painting the sky in fire and rose. My hand rested on the railing, the wood worn smooth by years of my touch. Below, Rowan—now thirteen, tall and lean like his father, with my silver-grey coat when he shifted—sparred with a group

Chapter 30 ‎The Flame Passes On‎‎Talia‎‎Fifty years after the eclipse, the manor had become legend.‎‎Its walls stood as strong as ever, but ivy and flowering vines had claimed them completely, turning stone into living art. The courtyard was no longer just grass and flagstones; it was a garden of remembrance—white flowers planted where blood had once spilled, an ancient oak at the center where Rex and I had danced under countless moons. The pack had grown into a nation, alliances stretching across continents, borders open, children of every clan raised together under one sky.‎‎I sat on the balcony that had once been my quiet refuge, now a gathering place for grandchildren and great-grandchildren. My hair was pure silver, long and flowing, my skin mapped with the soft lines of a life fully lived. My body was slower now, joints aching in the cold, but the light inside me burned undimmed, a quiet glow that warmed those around me. Rex sat beside me, his hand in mine, his silver