All Chapters of Marked by fate: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Zahra's POVBut then he exhales, long and shuddering, dragging a hand down his face. His body loosens, just slightly, like a bowstring easing after being drawn too tight for too long.“It’s not just that though,” he mutters, his voice rough. “They want me to take over Seb’s place. King James and Alpha Lucas enrolled me on the Alpha course at AC, I’m to co-alpha with Xander now that the packs have merged. How can I just take Seb’s place? How can I be co-alpha with Xander after everything? I broke up with him because the guilt was eating me alive, we’ve barely spoken since then, unless it’s pack related, and even then, that’s minimal. How can we do what’s best for the pack if we can’t even communicate with each other?”He’s rushing now, words spilling like a wound he can’t stop reopening, and I know it’s more the issue with Xander than Seb that’s carved him hollow. If he hadn’t pushed Xander away, he might have worked through his guilt, might have healed in some small way. But maybe not.

Zahra's POVMy throat tightens as I go on, my words tumbling out, raw and broken. I tell Max how Eli taught me how to please him, how he hurt me when I spoke up—pinching, gripping my arms so hard he left bruises. How he’d humiliate me in front of others when I joined conversations, as if I had no right to exist in his world. How he’d make me change my clothes on weekends because they were “too revealing,” or “too slutty,” even though Luna Alison had bought me every damn thing in my wardrobe.By the time I reach the hardest part, my voice is shaking so much it barely sounds like mine. I tell Max about the other night—Eli’s so-called farewell, what he made me do, and how he punished me when I “dissatisfied” him. Then about his goodbye this morning, the bruise he left on my arm, the same one that started all of this.Max doesn’t interrupt. Not once. He stays completely still, just holding me, letting me fall apart in his arms.I sent his tears before I see them. When I finally lift my he

Zahra's POVA flicker of something—pain, maybe pride—crosses his face before he exhales and nods. “I guess you’re right. Henry, keep her out of trouble. And Zahra, don’t shift.”He turns back to the others before I can respond, already linking them as he heads into the night. Henry and I break into a sprint, Zanthe surging forward inside me, lending her strength and speed. We’ve barely gone three steps when I realise running in a floor-length dress is impossible. I stop, yank one of the throwing knives I tucked into my pocket after the earlier demonstration, and slice the fabric off above my knees. My heart twinges at ruining such a beautiful dress—but better this than tearing it completely if I shift.We take off again, the lake flashing silver to our right as the moon reflects off the surface. The sound of the fight reaches us fast—the clash of bodies, snarls, the sharp tang of blood hitting the air.By the time we reach the southern edge, the battle is already chaos. Blood Moon war

Xander's POVI pace the hospital corridor, back and forth, back and forth, like a caged animal. The waiting is eating me alive. I’m covered in gore, mud, and Goddess knows what else, and when I glance around, everyone else is the same. We must stink to high heaven.There’s still no news. It’s taking far too fucking long. Mara is curled up in a chair, knees to her chest, face buried against them. Zahra’s arm is wrapped around her shoulders, while Elodie grips her hand. The doctors didn’t say much when we brought Zach in. By the time we arrived, he was unconscious—grey with blood loss. Zion couldn’t keep his healing going with the bone protruding through the skin, and once he passed out, it stopped completely.Fuck. I might lose my Beta. My best friend.My chest tightens. I glance over at Max, my heart stuttering. Out of everyone here, he’s the only one who knows what it’s like to face losing your best friend. He stares at the floor, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders stiff. Besid

Xander's POVWe file out quietly. Henry falls in behind us as we move through the corridor, the sterile lights above us flickering faintly. The hospital is still, unnervingly so for this hour. When we step outside, the early morning air hits me—cold, sharp, clean. The sky is pale and washed out, the kind of blue that only happens just after sun rise.I head straight for my truck, the last vehicle still in the lot. The others had taken the other cars home earlier. We climb in silently—Henry in the passenger seat, Zahra and Max in the back. The hum of the engine fills the quiet as I pull out of the parking lot and start toward home.No one speaks. I steal glances at the rear-view mirror now and then. Zahra stares out her window, her face unreadable, exhaustion etched into every line. Max does the same, his jaw tight, hands resting on his knees. Neither of them looks at the other.With everything that happened tonight, I hadn’t thought about it before now, but the image of them sneaking