All Chapters of Wanted By The Alpha And His Brothers: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Lana's POV The heavy gates of Thornwood closed behind me with a finality that echoed in my bones. The drive back had been silent, the driver’s eyes fixed ahead, but I felt Gideon’s invisible gaze on me as if he’d been watching from every dark window. Had he seen me with Maison and Kaelia in the park? Did he know the Thorne name? My room felt less like a sanctuary and more like the elegantly appointed cell it was. I leaned against the locked door, replaying Maison’s words. You marry me. The proposal hadn’t been on bended knee with promises of forever. It had been a tactical maneuver, presented with the calm logic of a military extraction plan. A life raft. A fortress. A way to become Lana Thorne, a woman who could walk in the sun without looking over her shoulder for shadows with fangs. I had turned him down. Not outright, but with a whispered, “I need to think,” which in the language of dire choices, was a polite refusal. To marry Maison was to surrender. To declare the bond, tha

Ronan's POV The pain was a living thing. It started behind my eyes, a rhythmic, punishing throb that pulsed in time with my heartbeat and radiated out, tightening my skull and coiling nausea in my gut. I hadn’t been this hungover since I was a reckless twenty-year-old. The stale, sour taste of bourbon and regret coated my tongue. I’d tried to drown the image of Lana walking away, the phantom feel of the mate bond stretching thin and cold, in a bottle of my best whiskey. It hadn’t worked. It never did. Sunlight, entirely too cheerful, stabbed through a gap in the heavy drapes. The sound of the estate coming to life, the distant clatter from the kitchens, the low murmur of voices in the hall, the thud of something heavy being moved, was an assault. Every noise was a hammer on the anvil of my head. A firm, familiar knock sounded at the door. Idris. He didn’t wait for an answer. He entered, a solid, disapproving silhouette against the bright hallway. “You look like death,” he observed

Ronan's POV The quiet of my study was a fragile thing, shattered by the sound of the front doors below being thrown open with a force that rattled the old beams. The cacophony that followed wasn't the orderly noise of my pack was the sound of chaos being met and contained: sharp barks of command, the swift, heavy tread of many boots on stone, and beneath it all, a low, collective growl that vibrated through the floorboards. I was already on my feet, the confrontation with Jessica evaporating from my mind, replaced by the primal alertness of an Alpha under threat. My wolf surged to the surface, senses sharpening. The air, once carrying the stale scent of whiskey and anger, now carried the unmistakable, acrid tang of intruders pine, cold iron, and old blood. Night Fang. Idris burst into the room, his face a mask of grim control. "Perimeter breach. Northwest treeline. They're testing the new patrol lines. Silas's wolves are engaging, but they're pushing hard towards the main house. A

Lana's POV The words hung in the cold night air, more shattering than any scream. This was not the plan. My body went numb, then buzzed with a sick, electric energy. I shrank back into the deeper shadows of the herb garden, pressing myself against the rough stone wall, my breath held so tight my lungs burned. Gideon was working with Peter Holloway. The conclusion was inescapable. The phone call, the fury, the phrase couldn’t mean anything else. There was a plan. Jessica’s kidnapping had been part of it. But something had gone wrong. The “child” he mentioned… Dorothy? Or Jessica’s unborn baby? The “scrutiny”… He was angry because the attack was too public, too brazen, drawing too much attention. My mind, already frayed from the night’s events, became a whirlwind of terrifying connections. Gideon sends Jessica to Red Creek to infiltrate and weaken Ronan. That fails. A new plan: a pregnancy, forcing a union. Ronan demands proof. That’s a problem. Then, a convenient, dramatic kidnapp

Lana's POV The charcoal grey silk felt like a second skin, cool and weighty. Standing before the mirror, I barely recognized myself. The woman reflected was poised, severe, untouchable. The diamond studs Maison had sent winked with a cold, clean light, and the silver hairpin, its tiny hidden eye, was secured in the simple twist at the nape of my neck. I wasn't Lana the fugitive, or Lana the pawn. Tonight, I was an envoy. Maison arrived precisely at seven, not in a Blackthorn car, but in his own sleek, silent electric sedan. He looked different outside the office, still impeccably tailored in a dark suit, but there was a subtle sharpness to his bearing, a readiness that his designer persona usually softened. "You look… appropriate," he said as I slid into the passenger seat, his eyes giving me an approving once-over. It was the highest compliment in this context. "We're not going to a restaurant, are we?" I asked as he navigated away from Thornwood’s imposing gates. "No. The famil