Todos os capítulos de Wanted By The Alpha And His Brothers: Capítulo 141 - Capítulo 150

Lana's POV The night is thick and silent, pressed against my window like a watching thing. I haven't slept. Every time I close my eyes, Gideon's words echo in the hollow chambers of my skull. She won't be needed much longer. I've been lying here for hours, staring at the ceiling, cataloging every exit from this room, every shadow that could hide an assassin. Kaelia is awake too. I can hear her breathing through the adjoining door, the too-steady rhythm of someone pretending to rest while remaining lethally alert. Maison is somewhere in the lower levels, posing as a visiting trader while gathering intelligence. We're all waiting for the axe to fall. It doesn't fall from outside. It strikes from within. The sensation hits me at 3:17 AM. I know the time because I was watching the clock, measuring the hours until dawn, when my spine suddenly arches off the mattress like I've been electrocuted. There's no lightning. No visible power. Just an impact so profound it steals the air from

Finn's POV(Special Chapter) The night breathes through the walls of Thornwood like a living thing. I've been sitting in this corner of Jessica's chamber for six hours, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the flicker of monitors, the subtle movements of Morwen's hands as she weaves her endless spells. My back is against the cold stone, my knees pulled up, my head bowed. I look like a man praying. I am not praying. I am calculating. And what my calculations tell me is that we are all going to die. The baby is destabilizing because the ritual forced incompatible bloodlines into a single vessel. That's the truth no one will speak aloud. Jessica's Blackthorn blood, my Lancaster blood, they were never meant to merge. We're cousins, distant enough to avoid the worst genetic consequences, but close enough that our combined lineage carries echoes of the same source. The ritual didn't just claim Ronan as the father. It overwrote large sections of the child's magical signature with his e

Ronan's POV The monitors scream. Not loudly, the alarms are set to a low, urgent tone that cuts through the quiet of Jessica's chamber without shattering the fragile peace of her sleep. But to my ears, attuned to every fluctuation in this room, every breath, every heartbeat, it might as well be a siren. I'm on my feet before I'm fully awake, moving to the bank of equipment that tracks the baby's vitals. Morwen is already there, her ancient hands moving across the displays, her face unreadable. The healers cluster behind her, their whispers a nervous hum. "What is it?" My voice is rough from too little sleep, too much coffee, too many hours of watching and waiting. Morwen doesn't look at me. "The heartbeat. It's changed." My blood turns to ice. Changed how? Stronger? Weaker? I push closer, needing to see, needing to know. The display shows the familiar pattern, the slow, drugged rhythm that's been our uneasy reality for days. But as I watch, the line shifts. The peaks rise sligh

Jessica's POV(Special Chapter) The monitors don't lie. I've been watching them for hours, ever since consciousness returned in fragments, flashes of white ceilings, urgent voices, Morwen's ancient face swimming in and out of focus. But now I'm fully awake, fully aware, and fully fixated on the rhythmic pattern that represents my child's heartbeat. It's stronger. After days of decline, of that horrible, slow, drugged rhythm that made my blood run cold every time I looked at the display, the heartbeat has improved. Not dramatically, it's still too slow, still not what a healthy pregnancy should show, but undeniably better. The change happened at 3:47 AM. I know this because I've asked the healers. I've reviewed the logs. I've interrogated every person who was in this room during that time. And every answer points to the same impossible conclusion: there was no medical intervention. No magical adjustment. No change in medication. The baby just... stabilized. On its own. At the exa

Ronan's POV The wrongness has a shape now. For days, I've been feeling it, a subtle shift in the background of my awareness, like a note in a familiar song played slightly off-key. The baby's presence, that constant hum of connection forged by the ritual, has changed. Not stronger. Not weaker in the way I'd expect if the child was failing. Just... different. It's like the difference between a brand and a scar. The ritual burned this child into my soul, a mark of ownership and obligation that I never asked for but couldn't refuse. That burn has been constant, painful, present, impossible to ignore. But now, something has changed. The burn is cooling. The mark is fading. Not disappearing, but... transforming. Becoming something else. I can't explain it. I can't even fully articulate it to myself. But I feel it, and what I feel tells me that the foundation of everything, the alliance, the marriage, the future I've sacrificed everything for, is shifting beneath my feet. Jessica doesn