Marked by the Ruthless Alpha のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 69

JacksonPain doesn’t come all at once, it creeps in slowly. It starts as a low hum beneath my skin, a vibration so familiar I almost mistake it for calm. For control. For the hybrid settling after the storm. I lie still on the stone floor of the sacred chamber, staring up at the carved ceiling, watching torchlight bend and blur, and I tell myself I survived again.But my body doesn’t believe me.Every breath feels too shallow, like my lungs are no longer entirely mine. The power inside me coils and recoils, restless, unsatisfied. It presses against bone and blood, testing for cracks, searching for weak points. I can feel it everywhere under my ribs, along my spine, in my hands where sparks of silver gold energy flicker and vanish like dying stars.I clench my fists and the stone beneath my palms fractures. That scares me more than Kai ever did.“Jackson.”Aliya’s voice reaches me before her touch does. Soft, careful like she is approaching something wounded and dangerous at the sam

AliyaPain is not the first thing I feel, it's weight. It presses down on me from every direction above, below, inside my chest until I can barely tell where my body ends and the ritual begins. The stone beneath Jackson glows blindingly bright, symbols spinning and reforming like living things, and the air vibrates so violently my teeth chatter.I can’t tell if the tremor in my hands is fear or power. Maybe both.Jackson arches beneath me with a hoarse cry, his back lifting off the platform as silver-gold energy erupts from his skin in violent waves. The hybrid is no longer contained it’s emerging, vast and radiant and terrifying in its scope. I feel it brush against me, not physically, but somewhere deeper than flesh. My wolf whimpers but not in fear. In awe.“Aliya!” Jackson gasps, his fingers clawing weakly at the stone. “It’s too much, I can’t”“Yes, you can,” I snap, leaning over him, planting my hands firmly over his heart. The moment I make contact, the bond detonates.Pain

AliyaI wake to the mountain breathing.That’s the only way I can describe it, the slow, steady pulse beneath the stone, a living rhythm that presses against my back and ribs like the rise and fall of a massive chest. For a moment, I’m disoriented, tangled in warmth and unfamiliar silence, my senses stretched thin and sharp all at once.Then I feel him.Jackson’s arm is heavy around my waist, his palm warm against my stomach, his presence no longer a roar in my bones but a deep, resonant hum, controlled, focused. Awake in a way that makes my wolf lift her head cautiously, like she is standing at the edge of something vast and dangerous and right.I turn slowly, afraid of waking him, studying the lines of his face in the soft glow spilling from the chamber walls. He looks different. Not peaceful, Jackson has never been peaceful but steadier. Like the storm has found its eye.And yet my chest tightens.The bond feels heavier.Not strained like before. Weighted. Anchored in a way that pu

AliyaThe night does not let us rest.Even after the wolves disperse and the clearing empties, even after the echoes of kneeling and whispered allegiance fade into the trees, the air remains charged, like the world itself is holding its breath, waiting to see who will strike first.Jackson and I move through the forest in silence, our footsteps muffled by pine needles and damp earth. The bond between us hums constantly now, no longer a quiet tether but a living thing alert, responsive, coiled tight. I can feel his awareness stretching far beyond mine, mapping the land, sensing threats, counting heartbeats that aren’t our own.We are being watched.Not hunted yet, at least not openly. But watched.“You are bleeding tension into the bond,” I murmur quietly as we move between the trees.Jackson exhales slowly, forcing some of his power back under control. “Sorry. Instinct.”“I know.” I glance at him. Moonlight catches his face, sharper somehow, like the edges of him have been honed by w

AliyaThe Black Marsh breathes, that is the first thing I realize when we cross the tree line and step into its borders. The air here is thick, damp, layered with decay and ancient life tangled together so tightly they cannot be separated. Every inhale tastes like iron and rot and something old enough to remember the first wolves.My wolf recoils instinctively, hackles raised, uneasy not from fear exactly, but from recognition.This land is alive.And it is watching us.Jackson slows beside me, his shoulders tense, posture subtly shifting into something more predatory, more kingly. The royal power inside him responds instantly, spreading outward in invisible waves. The marsh answers in kind. Reeds sway though there is no wind. Dark water ripples without disturbance.“This place doesn’t like outsiders,” I murmur.Jackson’s jaw tightens. “It respects strength.”We move carefully, stepping where the ground is solid, avoiding pools that look shallow but radiate danger. The bond between