All Chapters of Alora's Windsong: Chapter 81 - Chapter 86

Months had passed, and Storm was growing like wildfire beneath a summer moon. Every day, something new sparked in him, a sound, a laugh, a light. His eyes glowed like molten lava, liquid gold swirling like a firestorm, just like his father’s. When sunlight hit them just right, it looked as if the lava of creation itself burned behind his irises.Blaise called it his mark. Ryker called it a warning. Kira only smiled knowingly. “Fire and storm,” she said. “The gods made sure the world would never forget those eyes.”The long winter had broken. Snow melted from the mountains, revealing living green beneath. The scent of grass and spring flowers filled the air again. Yet the peace that came with spring felt thin, fragile, like glass before the strike.Storm sat in the grass beside the porch, chubby fingers reaching for a butterfly that danced just out of reach. Every time he laughed, the wind stirred, soft at first, then strong enough to ripple the trees. His energy hummed through the

The guards were coming. Jake had expected a note, but nothing came today. He lay back on his cot, staring at the ceiling, bored and waiting.The doors clanged open with the long, shrill scrape of metal on metal. Two guards entered with Cline, fully cuffed at the wrists and ankles, his face unreadable. When they were done removing the cuffs, the door slammed shut behind him.“I take it, it didn’t go well,” Jake said with a crooked grin.Cline didn’t answer. He just grunted and turned toward the wall, already bracing himself for the week ahead. He knew Jake well enough by now—nonstop talking, rambling nonsense until you either snapped or fell asleep from exhaustion. At least this time, they had given him earplugs.And the voice recorder.Cline glanced at the small device hidden in his pocket, switching it on so it could record while he slept. It wasn’t for official use, but Alpha would want to hear anything worth knowing. Still, Cline doubted Jake would spill anything good without an au

Motorcycles and a baby don’t mix.We had been saving for the down payment for months, and the day finally came. Sam picked us up early that morning, excited as ever. Storm sat in his carrier in the backseat, babbling to his stuffed fox while Blaise adjusted the straps.The dealership lot was massive, sunlight gleaming off rows of polished cars and trucks. Salesmen in shiny shoes hovered near the entrance, all smiles and charm.We spent over an hour looking at different options, SUVs, sedans, even a few hybrids, but nothing felt right. I wanted something safe, something that could handle mountain roads and snow. Blaise wanted power, something that could take a hit and keep going.Sam whistled low when we passed the larger section of the lot. “Look at these beasts,” he said, gesturing to a row of black and silver vehicles built like fortresses.The salesman followed our gaze, his smile widening. “You’ve got good taste. Those over there are half price. We’re trying to clear room for new